Chapter Text
Yuji holds his ID card so tightly in his hand, he thinks it may slice through his skin. His other hand is twisted up in the strap of the rucksack he has on his back, pulling it painfully taut over his skin through his shirt. There’s a Beta couple standing at the reception desk ahead of him, paying their entrance fees and discussing things too quiet for Yuji to hear. They’re older than him, comfortable and smiling, somewhat at home in the airy and open entrance.
They’ve been here for a few minutes, with the receptionist tapping lightly on her keyboard every so often, then she hands them two items: a silk collar that’s a deep and rich shade of red, and a leather wristband of equal colouring. Yuji remembers seeing in the comments he’d read on Google about the club, that red indicates that its wearer is completely off-limits to scene solicitation. A collar is for a submissive, a wristband is for a Dominant. They are here together, likely for each other — if the look the shorter Beta gives the taller one is anything to go by, at least. So submissive and utterly devoted.
Something in Yuji’s chest surges with a tinge of envy, longing and aching for something like that. A partner, someone to place a hand on his back at the desk, someone to wrap a collar around his neck, someone to take his own jacket and reveal a back littered with the licks of a crop or whip. He watches them as they move, unable to look away, enthralled by their shifts in stature, falling into roles that allow them to sparkle and shimmer.
They look right; secure and indulgent.
Like everything Yuji could ever dream of.
They move away, towards a cornered hallway that’s far out of his eyesight.
When the receptionist rises from her seat, Yuji takes a breath in and makes his way to the desk slowly. He’s introducing himself with a tremor in his voice and a quick stumble over his words once the Alpha receptionist has politely greeted him. They drift into an awkward silence and Yuji wishes he had drifted in closer when the other clients approached the staff member, if only to know what to say.
Still, the receptionist, cordial, professional, and soft-spoken, was prepared for scared, young, Omegas drifting unsurely through those doors.
“Is this your first time here, Itadori-san?” She asks. Her voice is light and airy, as if designed to put nervous Omegas, like Yuji, at ease upon arrival. That doesn’t stop the fiery blush working its way up Yuji’s neck to spill up onto his cheeks and right to the tip of his ears.
Too warmed by his embarrassment, Yuji forgoes speech and nods, lowering his eyes.
“Is this also your first time in a fetish club?”
Again, somehow flushing redder, Yuji nods. She smiles warmly in return, her expression giving no indication of mockery, nor a want to ward Yuji off.
“In that case, I will take your payment here. Then, another member of staff will come to aid you with setting up your account and give you an induction.”
Yuji settles his fee and sits rigidly in a plush, leather seat that was around the corner the previous couple had disappeared around. He waits patiently, hugging his backpack closer to his chest whenever patrons arrive, or move between rooms. Their clothes, the way they act, the way they speak, it drips of things Yuji has always been fascinated with. Seeing those things, hearing them too, only confirms to the loud, ready part of him, that this is where he will find exactly what he’s been waiting for.
Something else that serves as a balm to his doubts is the steady thumping of a bass-heavy song. It comes from somewhere along the hallway that stretches in front of him, and the visceral monotony of the vibrations is settling. If only because nightclubs have grown familiar enough for Yuji in the months since his twentieth birthday. Though, he usually has Nobara and Megumi — and sometimes even Sukuna — flanking him, pressed up close to his Omega body, dousing him in their Alpha and Beta scents. Protecting him from those he doesn’t want coming close, but also warding off anyone who he’d happily welcome to inhale his scent from his throat and press their bodies up to him.
It’s pleasing to think that, even if he doesn’t do anything specific tonight or venture into any new experiment, he could easily lose himself in the room where the music is coming from. He could sit at the bar and observe, or move down into the crowd, inserting himself into the face-less throng. That would be a good option to take for his first time here, to slowly immerse himself into the setting by using what he knows — of dancing, bodies grinding, and hands feeling. Rather than following his original plan of finding someone to scene with, to be not just innately submissive as an Omega, but as a person outside of that, too.
But a dance and a firm-handed fondle isn’t quite what he’s drummed up the courage to do.
A Beta woman with neatly coiled up hair in the fetish club’s uniform approaches Yuji, greeting him and gesturing down the corridor, asking for him to follow her. He does, focusing on the way her heels hit the painted-black concrete floor with each step.
She leads him to an office, offers him a seat and some tea, and then settles elegantly into a seat behind a desk.
“So, Itadori-san, I’m aware that this is your first experience in a fetish club, therefore I would like to start by thanking you for choosing this club to be your first.” Like the receptionist, she simply draws Yuji into an odd in-between of relaxation and utter mortification. His shoulders unfurl and his stomach doesn’t twist, but his face stays red-hot, and his mouth stays incredibly dry.
Yuji sips his drink. The bitterness of green tea flourishes on his tongue, turning his parched tongue and gums sodden.
“Now, why don’t we start with the easy aspect of setting up the basics of your account, and then move onto the more delicate matters, okay?”
They fill out his general profile and scan his ID, allowing Yuji to settle that tiny bit more, realising that this part is almost identical to registering with a gym. It is when the Beta produces a small booklet and places it on the desk between them, that Yuji wishes to curl up slightly.
“This is the club’s handbook, and this is your personal copy, for you to take and fully familiarise yourself with. Inside are the basics of what we do to ensure your safety, especially as an Omega, whilst you are here. But, also, what’s expected of everyone within the establishment; the sanctity of safe-words, honesty within scenes and their negotiations, and respect for others and their own preferences.”
She continues on like that, discussing security cameras, and everything else about what the club does to protect its users. Her tone, whilst still pleasant, rings with a seriousness that makes Yuji listen intently, reading over paperwork she places before him next. Written confirmation and insurance, both on his own behalf and the club’s, that there will be mutual respect for these rules. Yuji takes his inkan out of the front pouch of his rucksack and presses the red ink onto all the appropriate spots, leaving his legally binding signature behind.
“I understand that this is a new experience for you, Itadori-san, and am I correct in assuming you would like to engage in a scene, either with our hired staff or another, trusted and available patron who matches your needs, this evening?”
He licks his lips once, twice, three times over, willing his shyness to quieten and let him do this one thing that he truly wants.
“Yes,” he finally manages to murmur, staring down at where a little bit of his stamp ink has bled on the paper. “I would like that.”
“Wonderful!” She moves, taking away the confirmation document and grabs a folder on her desk. “There is a tiny bit of paperwork that goes with this, for your ease and those you may decide to scene with. It is not exhaustive of all fetishes and kinks that exist, but this is what is readily available in our club, both equipment-wise and in what our people specialise in. Other interests are subject to negotiation between you and your scene partners.”
Handed to him is a printed list, broken down into sections with each small title coming with a short explanation, next to spaces to be marked on under the placement of “likes”, “soft limits”, and “hard limits”.
“For most people, these lists are constantly evolving and changing with their tastes and relationships. So, do not think that what you may mark down today has to stay that way, you’re always allowed to change your mind. Even during a scene.” She looks him over and Yuji sees her observe the state he’s in. He must look especially meek, and nerve riddled, because she then tacks on, in an even, forthright tone: “Especially during a scene.”
Yuji flicks his eyes through the list, slightly overwhelmed by the sheer specificity of so much that’s offered and interested in so many things that something in his ears pop as he moves his tongue in his mouth. There are a handful of things that Yuji instantly knows he would mark off as a “like”, feeling hot under the collar just reading the descriptions.
However, there’s so much he cannot even fathom the sensation of, which he’d love to stick a little question mark beside. If he trusted someone enough, to know they would take care of him and that they would never truly damage him, he would let them at least try. Not on his first night, but at some point down the road, when nerves and excitement don’t bite at his muscles beneath his skin.
The Beta gives him a few moments to read over the form for a few minutes and offers him both a pen and a pencil.
“I recommend marking stuff in with the pencil first, then the pen, once you’re sure; saves paper and marking it down twice feels more official than just the once.”
Yuji does as she says, putting crosses in boxes and following his idea of using question marks, and the room turns near silent. Only the soft whirr of the computer and the short drags of graphite on paper can be heard. Yuji isn’t even breathing as he goes down the list, and the woman fades a little into the background. Her mild Beta scent doesn’t impede on Yuji’s senses, and her solid black uniform melts her into the dim room easily, letting Yuji focus on imagining how a bullwhip, or riding crop, or cat o’nine tails would sting and scratch on his skin. He knows, just from his own research, that a paddle — plain or not — would hurt in a more thump-y, solid way, and that an open palm could rest somewhere in between those sensations.
But he thinks he’d like them all, especially as someone who enjoys putting a salty finger onto a mouth ulcer, or pressing a thumb into a raised and blackened bruise. His mouth waters just at the thought of feeling and he knows his scent must have changed, as the Beta moves to turn the air circulation onto a higher setting.
When he’s finished with both the pencil and the pen, the lady smiles and gestures for him to pass him the paper with both her hands held out. She turns her attention to the screen before her for a moment, clicking around slightly, then she places her focus on him.
“I’m going to compare what you’ve marked down with someone suited to you… Do you have any preferences with the person? Age, genders, bonded status; whatever you can think of, it’s okay to ask for.”
“An unmated Alpha, if that’s okay?” Yuji blurts out, wishing he still had the pen in his hand to squeeze, if only to release some of the energy that’s whirling inside him at the mere mention of what he would like. “I know this might sound weird, especially for my first time, but I don’t think I could be comfortable with someone who is mated, like they’re bonded, so I know that’s probably safer for me, but I just… I’d convince myself they weren’t focusing on me, so I’d be anxious that they would be distracted and then I’d be distracted, and I just don’t think that would work.
“And I’m a bit young, right? I’m twenty, and most other people I’ve seen here are a bit older than me… So, um, maybe, someone that’s a little close to me in age? Doesn’t have to be super close, but no one, like, over fifteen years older than me, perhaps? I don’t know, I can’t tell if I’m being too vague or too specific with this.”
Rather than cut off his rambling explanations, the lady maintains her placating smile, nodding encouragingly, “No, this is absolutely fine, Itadori-san, I’ve already got some people in mind, so I’ll just see if any of them are in and available this evening.”
She clicks around on her computer and her smile changes, Yuji can’t quite recognise it, but she joins her hands together in a soundless clap. “I think we have just the right person for you. So, why don’t we get your collar ready whilst someone informs your potential partner?”
. . .
Yuji is shown into a small bathroom, one lined with mirrors, to bind the collar around his own neck. He doesn’t look upwards, though, until the collar is in its rightful place; the strip of leather sitting comfortably around his throat, just below his Adam’s apple.
In the centre of it runs a thin line of white (denoting his inexperience) but, bracketing that, is the same crimson he had seen the Betas at the reception desk wear.
And something within Yuji goes blissfully quiet.
It looks perfect.