smfics

[smfics]

cherry thrill | okkotsu yuuta x reader

ftm trans!yuuta. reader is afab, no pronouns used for reader. nipple play, oral sex, subtop yuuta. first time (for yuuta). reader is very forward. The relationship is recently established; at the beginning of the fic, reader doesn't know yuuta is trans. it's all good tho. Banner by @/cafekitsune. Length: 2.8K. Just barely made it in time for TDOV yay! ♥ listening to... ▷ cherry thrill - movements

“Do you trust me?”

Yuuta can’t seem to be able to tear his eyes off of the poster on the wall behind you. He’s nervous, nervous as hell. And locking eyes with Joan Jett plastered on your wall across from this couch seems to help distract him some. At least it’s better than looking into the eyes of a tiger (that means you, by the way.

Because that is entirely how you’re looking at him right now.)

Yuuta chews his bottom lip and nods.

“I know you told me you haven’t done anything like this before.” Yuuta nods idly. Joan’s reassuring smile sparkles behind your head. “But if you want it—I’ll be good to you.”

His lips perk up some. “I know.”

Your gaze, which was fixed on his face, trails down, sweeping over the pale column of his neck. He wears an oversized flannel over an oversized shirt paired with oversized jeans, his bony body drowning in fabric. Despite dating for weeks, you’ve never been graced with anything more than a glance at his collarbones, or a few presses of your lips to his own. He’d confessed to you early on that he was extremely inexperienced. But that’s okay; you’d be more than willing to be his first, a strange sort of satisfaction brewing in your tummy at the thought.

In comparison to his usual chastity, today seems like an anomaly. What was a “come over and watch a movie with me” date has turned into… well… this. Not that you’re complaining.

You’re straddling his lap, grinding yourself down against him as you shove your tongue down his throat. Your shirt had been peeled off and tossed onto the floor at some point during your heavy make out session, in an act to push Yuuta just a little harder than usual. You admittedly want more than just a few kisses tonight. And Yuuta’s eager hands cupping and groping your breasts as you bite at his lips tells you that he must feel the same way.

When you tell him sweetly that you’ll be good to him, his skin feels hot. Your fingers cup around his nape and tug at the roots, pulling him up to look at you. You kiss him, making a show of moaning against his lips as you grind against his pelvis. The signs are all there: he kisses you back, sucking on your tongue; his hands grope your chest, your thighs, squeeze at the meat of your ass.

So why isn’t he hard?

You pull away from the kiss, a web of saliva netting between your lips. Yuuta’s dazed when he looks at you—you imagine little hearts floating around his face, like a lovestruck fool out of a comic strip.

“Yuuta…” you use the hand you have at his nape, and turn it just slightly, so that you brush your thumb against his spit-soaked bottom lip. He parts his lips just enough for you to thumb over his Cupid’s bow. His lips are such a lovely shade of pink—so so pretty, so kissable.

Before you find yourself sucking on his tongue once more you pry your gaze away from it, and search his eyes pointedly. “I want to have sex with you. Badly. Would that be okay with you?”

Yuuta’s whole body reaction is charming. The soft breaths that washed over your thumb stop; his eyes grow wide, like a cornered animal, as his face blooms pink. He blinks. And blinks. And blinks.

“Um.. I—I want to too,” he stutters once his brain seems to come back online. He stops you when you lean forward to kiss him again, clearly hesitant over something. “I have a, um… confession to make.”

“Confession?” Your brows thread together in confusion and he keeps you away from his lips.

“I don’t have… um…” words seem to fail him at that moment, his lips mouthing something but no sound comes out. When you look into his eyes they’re glassy, on the brink of tears. Is he forcing himself to do this with you? Your heart sinks at the thought.

“Yuuta, if you don’t want this, don’t force yourself, it’s oka—”

You feel his grip on your sides tighten. “It’s not that,” He takes the hand that you’ve placed on his face and brings it down to between your bodies, pressing it against his crotch. You feel nothing there—not even a bulge. When you don’t say anything, he looks away, his grip on your hand going limp.

It takes a few seconds, as you clear the hazy lust clouding your mind, for this all to click in your mind.

And then it does.

“Oh.”

He panics, then. “I should have told you earlier, I’m sorry—”

“Baby,” you hush him, palms to his cheeks. “Did you think that would upset me?”

He resorts back to blinking, a little dumbfounded, and nods. “I don’t know—maybe,”

“I love you,” you tell him for the first time. His ears feel hot as the words reach them. “Exactly as you are.”

Yuuta’s overwhelmed with emotions at the relief that comes with admitting this to you—and for a while, you stay like this, letting him wrap himself around you and sob into the crook of your neck as you pat his hair and soothe him, reassuring him that you’d never be upset with him for something like this. Hell, as his crying subsides, you give him just a little grief, in the form of “Did you really expect me to reject you?”.

To which he shyly admits that he didn’t; but his anxiety won out every time it came up, avoiding breaching the topic until now. You don’t blame him at all, of course.

And he doesn’t know if he can love you any harder than he does in the moment when you kiss his damp eyelids, thumb at his cheeks, and tell him, “this doesn’t change a thing. 'kay?”

The hesitancy Yuuta felt before vanishes completely when you kiss him again. This time he lets you sneak your hands under his shirt, lets your hands roam over the soft skin of his tummy, and even raises his arms for you when you motion to peel off his shirt. He’s wearing a binder beneath his shirt, solid black with a zipper down its center. When your thumb and index finger wrap around the zipper, you feel him stop breathing again, so you pause.

“It’s okay,” he nods—it’s the first time anyone’s done this with him, and you feel a sort of responsibility, to make him feel loved with every touch. You’re slow and delicate when you tug, maintaining eye contact with him, looking for any sign that you should stop what you’re doing. But he gives you no such signal.

When you tug the zipper all the way down, the black fabric comes apart with a snap. Suddenly his breasts spill out, sizable enough to droop like a pretty pair of pears… after pushing off the binder, you take the left one into your hand and thumb softly over his nipple. A cute little whine slips out of his lips.

“Would you rather I not touch them?” You ask him, afraid of overstepping. Your stomach churns with desire when his face deepens a shade of pink.

“It—it feels good,” he says as your hand gently squeezes a handful of his chest, pinching the nipple. “I like it—as long as it’s you.”

You can’t help but kiss him again, delighted at his words, at how much faith he’s put in you. As your lips meld against his own you squeeze his breasts, pinching, rolling, massaging—and he squeaks, hums, and moans in delight with every touch. If you weren’t so busy eating up every single way his body responds to you, you’d be upset with him for holding back from this for so long. How much more can you get out of him?

But you can’t help but wonder if you’ve already pushed him enough for today, seeing just how much kissing and groping has flustered him already, and hesitate, pulling away to ask, “do you want to keep going?”

Yuuta surprises you, then. He flips you off his lap and lays you down onto the couch, slotting himself between your thighs. His expression is still flustered but his gaze is something else; darker, determined. “Yes, I want to…”

"Then, fuck me," you smirk at him, pawing up at his jeans. "I'll teach you how."

As you hurriedly peel off each other's pants, Yuuta is grateful that you have a bit more experience than he does. He likes that you guide him, with a mix of eagerness and respect for his inexperience. You don't say much until you're both down to your panties, both of you squeezing at whatever parts of each other's bodies you can grab.

Yuuta sits on his knees between your thighs as you sit up off the couch and rub your fingers over his clothed pussy; the fabric is soaked through.

"Can I take this off?" You murmur, looking up at him. He nods, and your gaze slowly flits down to where you touch him; it feels like it burns his skin as it trails down his lips, then chest, then down the dark hair on his tummy that cuts off at the cloth of his panties, like a promise of something more beneath. With hands at both sides you peel the cotton down, pushing it to his knees—any further down and he would have to move his legs, but right now he can do no such thing, because you lean in, face-to-face with his pussy, and place kisses along his pelvis, his vulva... to say he's embarrassed is an understatement. A glance up at him reveals he's covering his mouth with the back of his hand, ears and cheeks a pointed red.

"Is this embarrassing for you?" you ask him. "You can tell me to stop whenever, sweetheart."

He shakes his head side to side wordlessly. Doesn't protest when you pry his sticky lips apart with your thumbs, showing you his puffy little cock. It's reddened compared to the rest of him; you blow on it, and he shivers, which makes you start to giggle.

"So sensitive, Yuuta. Have you been touching yourself a lot?"

"The medicine, it um, makes me really..."

"Horny?"

"Mmmh,"

Admittedly, Yuuta is someone who's incredibly fun to tease. You've learned this over the few weeks you've been dating, and the urge to tease him about this bubbles up inside you. His reactions are what drive you, always so incredibly cute and innocent.

So you tease him.

"Do you touch yourself like this?" You ask as you thumb over his dick. He starts to squirm, acknowledging your question with a hum. "Or do you prefer fingers inside you?"

You start to rub his cock in a circular motion with your thumb and he all but keels over. "Like that—please,"

You replace your thumb with your lips, wrapping them around his dick. Yuuta's never felt the warmth of someone's mouth there before, nor has he ever felt the sensation he feels when you start to flick your tongue over him, and he nearly chokes on a sob when you start to suck.

"Fuuuuuck," he sighs. It's the first time you've even heard him curse like that. It's delightful. So you hold his lips apart with your thumbs and lavish attention on his cock, sucking and teasing with your tongue until Yuuta's holding you to him with a firm hand, practically grinding himself on your face. He sounds wretched when he cums on your mouth, and you moan in time with him, making him undoubtedly hornier than he thought possible.

"Please," he pants, chest rising and falling as you pull off his cock. "Please let me make you feel good too."

Your lips glisten with his wetness, and when you lean back Yuuta kisses you, tasting himself on them. He doesn't know what to make of the tangy sweetness but he decides he doesnt hate it.

You pull your own panties off as he stares. Practically starts to drool as you hold your lips apart with your index and middle fingers.

“Wanna make me feel good?” He watches with bated breath as you stick your middle finger inside, past your entrance, and pull it back out. It comes out with a sticky sheen. “Then put your cock inside me, Yuuta.”

Ohhhhhhh God, he’s thinking, watching you push your finger back inside yourself. Is this even fair?

Yuuta believes he is entirely unqualified to have someone like you; he doesn't even know what to do with himself when you hook your arms under your knees, pulling your legs back and spreading open for him. He has zero experience with this, marveling at your drooling pussy, unsure about where his body parts should go.

He swallows. "Put it," clears his throat, "Put it in?"

You smile, a bit like a Cheshire Cat. "Yes, darling."

It's cute, the way he shyly shuffles up, shucks both your panties off the couch and onto the ground, and places his thighs right up against you. He's flustered, pink from his ears to his collarbones, as you rest your thighs on his, beckoning him closer with fingers wrapped around his arms.

"Don't think about it too much," you assure him. "Do what feels good."

His intuition and his experience (read: the many nights he's spent humping his pillow, thinking about you) tell him to peel apart the sticky folds of his pussy, to press his dick right against your wanting hole. He shyly grinds himself against you, soaking in the little moans that leave your lips when his dick slides against your clit.

"More," you hum, to his excitement. "Like that."

When he gets a sense of what you like, he pushes your knees back to your chest, earning a gleeful squeal from your lips. He smiles when you do.

"Good boy," you coo, as he continues to grind himself against your pussy. You don't mind how hard he grips the back of your thighs as he leans over you, enjoying the friction between your bodies. In fact, he grips the fat of your thighs even harder upon hearing the words 'good boy'. Discovering just how much he loves praise was not your prerogative tonight, but wow will this information be useful for later...

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of his low, strained groan as his cock catches on your hole. It's so sticky; when he pulls away even the smallest distance, a thin web of slick connects you both. You reach down to your clit, tracing circles over it as he fucks into you with his dick.

Your orgasm builds slowly, between you touching your clit and Yuuta grinding himself against your pussy. After a few moments, he adjusts your legs, shuffles a little closer, and grinds himself right against your clit, a position that is incredibly good for the both of you. Your bodies lewdly rub against each other, pushing you both closer and closer to your peak.

"Just like that, Yuuta," you gasp, watching as his pussy rubs against yours, "Fuck,"

Yuuta's immensely satisfied to see you like this: squirming against the couch, eyes lidded and full of lust because of him. He didn't even think he could have this effect on you, especially due to his, well, lack of a certain body part. But it seems, to his relief, that it couldn't be further from the truth; because suddenly he's drenched as you cum, gushing from when your bodies are grinding against each other. Your voice warbles with a broken moan, and your chest heaves. What a pretty sight... Yuuta had no idea that when he was avoiding intimacy with you, that he was missing out on this. He suddenly feels entirely like an idiot.

"Was that good?" Yuuta asks between pants, his shoulders rising and falling dramatically with every breath. He's shy again when you meet his gaze, like your orgasm wasn't enough of an indication that you enjoyed it. Silly boy.

"Come 'ere," he pull him forward, letting him topple onto you. Immediately you wrap your legs around his torso, and kiss the doubt off his lips. "I should be asking you that, your first time and all."

You kiss at the blush on his cheeks and ask, "Was this okay for you?"

He nods, wordlessly dipping down low enough to take one of your nipples into his mouth. You shoot him a curious glance.

"I wanna make you do that again," he says before sucking at your chest.

"You really like making me go off?" You ask with a giggle. He nods without releasing your tit. "Then how about we try something else."

He releases your breast with a pop. "Hm?"

"Have you ever thought about using a strap-on?"

It seems Yuuta still has a lot to learn from you yet..

#jjk #yuuta okkotsu

[smfics]

transmasc yuuta x gn reader. yuuta’s on T. And on prozac. And horny as hell. fingering+oral sex (yuuta receiving). banner by @/cafekitsune. wc 1.5K.

It’s somewhere smack dab in the middle of the night when you’re inevitably awoken by your boyfriend at your side. Yuuta’s always had trouble sleeping, that you knew even before you shared an apartment with him. But lately, the tossing and turning, the fidgeting, the getting out of bed to pace around the apartment or to go entertain himself in the living room—it’s all gotten more frequent, entirely out of hand. You blame it on his cocktail of prescriptions, but since they do more good than harm, the sleeplessness is just something you deal with.

And of course, the easiest way to deal with it, is to tire the guy out. Which, you excel at, to Yuuta’s relief.

“Baby, you’re still up?” You ask him, turning to your side as you peel your eyes open, adjusting to the darkness of the room. There’s just a sliver of moonlight that shines in from the gaps between the window curtain and the wall, and it perfectly illuminates Yuuta’s dark, sunken gaze. He looks at you with an expression that can only be described as guilty.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles, his breathy voice soft and sweet, unlike your gritty, sleepy one. You reach over to his face, tucking a lock of his dark hair behind his ear and away from his face. He smiles sheepishly. “Can’t sleep again.”

“Anxious?”

Usually the culprit of his sleeplessness is anxiety, as he tends to overthink and ruminate in thought when he should be drifting off to bed. If not anxiety then it’s—

“Um… not tonight. Actually…”

There’s a bead of sweat at his temples. He gnaws on his bottom lip.

You smile when you decipher the needy look on his face almost instantly.

“Horny?”

He sighs, “Yeah, it’s just, you know—”

Of course you know. You lower your hand, rubbing it along his bare hip. He’s dressed in only a loose fitting t-shirt, as he does every night since his bottom growth really started to pick up (after several nights of complaining about the fabric of his boxers rubbing against his cock, you assured him you didn’t mind if he slept bottomless, and he’s been eternally grateful ever since). His gaze lowers bashfully as you squeeze his side.

“Why didn’t you wake me up, Yuuta?” You wet your lips, mouth still a little gummy from sleep, and lean into him. His breath hitches when your hand dips lower, brushing against his dick. “I am always down to help you”

“Feel bad asking,” he hums, your lips kissing at the corner of his mouth. He silently acquiesces to your touch, and you chase his mouth as he lays back against the mattress, spreading his legs for you. “Can’t wake you up at 3 am begging for you to touch me.”

“Who says you can’t?”

He doesn’t get a chance to answer you; your lips mould against his own, swallowing whatever he has to say. Your tongue swipes against his bottom lip, and the petals of his mouth part for you as you rub over his sensitive cock with your fingers. He hasn’t told you, but you’re sure he’s been rubbing the poor thing raw with how strangled his moan sounds against your lips. His hips buck into your touch, like a moth chasing flame.

“It’s—it’s sensitive,” Yuuta whines. You feel bad for Yuuta, in a way. The testosterone makes him horny as hell, but the prozac makes it so hard for him to cum. He’ll try and soothe himself but… no one does it better than you do. “P-please,”

“I know,” you dip your fingers lower, teasing at his entrance. When he isn’t needy like this, he’s so shy; he’ll close his legs bashfully and try and push you away. But when he needs your touch so desperately like he does now, he opens his legs even wider. “I’ll help you.”

You’re laying on your side, pressed up against Yuuta’s, as you kiss at his mouth and dip your fingers inside his cunt. You start with one finger at first, and delightfully feel his pussy squeeze your fingers when you start to suck at his tongue. He’s so reactive to everything you do, and something about it being dark and heavy from sleep makes it feel sexier. His breaths feel so loud in your ear, his moans even more so.

You slip another finger inside and he bucks his hips with every curl of your fingertips.

“Pretty boy, can you come for me?” You ask as he buries his face in the crevice on your neck. His cunt squeezes hard around you at the sound of the words pretty boy, pleased by your praise. Your arm that’s propping you up on the bed wraps around his neck, holding him close to you.

“Y-yeah,” he stutters, answering you even though you didn’t really need him to respond. “Wanna come for you...”

As you push your fingers deep into his pussy, his hand comes down to his cock, and with his fingers he strokes it in time with your movements. You feel his hips buck into your hand again, and with a smothered cry into your neck you feel his body tense up underneath you. Everything you touch feels so wet as he clamps down on you.

Did he squirt on you? You feel a wetness drip down onto your hand, as his pussy pulses around your fingers, and you surmise that he did.

You chuckle against his hair as he struggles to catch his breath. “I love making you come, baby.”

He sighs against your neck, wriggling as you pull out your fingers. “Thank you…”

You bring up your fingers to your lips as Yuuta pulls away from your neck. He’s laying against the pillow again, sweat making his hair stick to his face as his lungs still clamor for air. He watches you with a lidded, far away gaze as you suck his juices off your fingers.

“Love how sweet you are,” you smile, licking at the wetness on your palm. Even under the darkness of the scarce moonlight, Yuuta’s face is obviously flushed. “Can I clean you up?”

Yuuta rubs his hand against his shirt, sticky still from his release. He welcomes you as you shuffle around and properly hover over him, his knees hitching up to fit against your sides. Yuuta tastes himself when you kiss him, his sweet and tangy taste dripping off your tongue. Beneath his ribcage, his heart picks up pace as you groan against his lips. Kissing you makes his head feels so fuzzy, his skin buzzing with excitement.

He’s still on some other frequency as your kisses trail lower, first tracing the sharpness of his jaw, and then the lovely curve of his neck.

“Give me one more okay?” You tell him, squeezing his sides.

“Yeah—yeah, okay.” His chest heaves as you kiss down his body.

Quickly you make your way to his pelvis, and he all but screams when you wrap your lips around his cock. You tease the length with your tongue, running it up and down, and surely then you taste the tangy taste of his juices from before. You feel a hand on your head, Yuuta pushing you down against his body.

“Just like that,” he whines, arching up into your mouth. He’s pushing you down hard as he fucks your mouth, his cock gliding against your tongue. “Fuck, please,”

You begin to suck on his length, and his whole body shudders in response, thighs clamping down at the sides of your face. You know how much he loves this (and how easily he comes, too), so you keep going, even when you start to hear him whine “wait, wait”, reeling from the sensitivity.

You add your two fingers inside him again, pumping them and brushing up against his sweet spot. He gives up any pretense of holding back, and fucks himself on your fingers and your mouth, mouthing “please, please,” like a prayer.

He arches off the bed and clamps down around your fingers, coming for you a second time that night. You drink down every drop of release he gives you, moaning into his heat as he tightens his grip on your head. Releasing his cock you move lower, teasing your tongue into his cunt, and he releases and pushes at your head.

“Too much,” he croaks out, his voice hoarse from moaning, “ ‘s too much.”

You pull away and pepper kisses to his cunt, to his thighs. “Sorry, you’re just so cute when you come, pretty boy.”

“You are too,” he smiles lazily, feeling tired out from coming on your fingers. Finally. “You’re merciless though…” he adds with an exhausted chuckle.

You laugh as you crawl back up to his side, curling into him. “Just a little bit.”

“I’ll get back at you in the morning,” Yuuta yawns, nuzzling into your neck. “ ‘m tired now.”

“Im glad,” you kiss his cheek, watching as he drifts off to sleep, feeling satisfied that you could help your needy boyfriend once again.

#JJK #yuuta okkotsu

[smfics]

obsession is such an ugly word

yuuta x female reader, length 5.2K CW: Yuuta's POV // yandere // alcohol // non-con groping/dry humping/somnophilia A/N: this is a repost from my previous blog, with some small edits. Banner by @/cafekitsune. Part of Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

Rage simmers beneath Yuuta's skin.

He's been good about it, about you. He did it all the right way: had you warm up to him, become friends, even spend time together outside of class. You shared the same major (after he switched, though you didn't know that), so it was easy to find that pretty smile of yours in every class he'd taken this year. He tried to do this naturally, to have you grow closer and closer to him until you'd never want to be apart.

That was his plan, anyway.

But you're stubborn. He likes that about you, but it's made things difficult.

"I'm sorry, Okkotsu-san." The formality stung. "I'm so busy with my studies... dating would be a distraction, you know? Can we just be friends, for now?"

For now. To anyone else that would signify a rejection, but to Yuuta it didn't. Your words for now meant you'd change your mind later, surely. Besides, you're the one who came crawling back just a couple days later. You couldn't stand to be apart for long, could you? See, he just had to be patient a little longer. 

Tonight’s the night he’s been waiting for: the semester’s over now. He’s going to ask you again to be his, now that your excuses have no merit. He’s been waiting for this ever since you rejected him. And true love is worth waiting forever for.

But he finds that being patient is hard when your cheeks are flushed with alcohol and he has to sit back and watch someone else try and make a move on you. He's been so good, so patient. And this classmate, someone so unimportant Yuuta can't even remember his name, he thinks he can earn your stubborn heart in one night?

The table you're currently sitting in hosts four: Maki sits closest to the wall, and you sit beside her. The seat across from Maki is empty; Nobara was here but left earlier in the night as she's leaving for the countryside, heading home to be with her family. She seemed to be rather eager to leave Yuuta's side, and it’s for the best. The feeling's mutual. 

It leaves Yuuta alone across from you, guarding the real estate at his side with his life, as he wants any chance at all to get some time alone with you. At least, he was guarding it with his life, until a certain pink-haired freshman showed up wanting to talk to you and you offered him the seat across from you, no care at all for Yuuta's unspoken plans with you.

"Kampai!" the voices of everyone at the tables around him shout in unison, yours included, everyone clinking together their beer glasses in the middle. Some graduating senior a couple of tables away had made a speech about the end of the semester, and his words were met with smiles from ear to ear. Yuuta doesn't join your cheer, too busy staring at you and steeping in his barely muted aggravation as he glares at his cheap beer bubbling gently in his mug. He’s starting to think he came to this stupid party for nothing.

But a sudden shout startles him from his thoughts.

"Okkotsu-kun!" His eyes widen as you shove your beer glass towards him, "Cheer up, won't you? You've been so quiet all night," a chuckle escapes your lips. "Well, quieter than normal. It's our last day, cmon. Toast with me!" 

"Yeah, Yuuta," Maki yells over the noise, "Stop being a stick in the mud."

He weakly holds out his glass, heart beating just a little bit faster as your beer glasses collide in the middle. The fact that you're thinking of him, including him in your fun... You're sweet to him, always. His grin grows wider as you pull back and take a swig, encouraging him with a wiggle of your brows to do the same.

You wipe your damp lips and giggle as Maki turns and says something to you, the rest of the bar way too loud for him to hear it. He looks back down at the piss-yellow beer in his glass, trying his hardest to focus and pick up on the sound of your conversation. But a loud voice interjects before he can hear you:

"Sempai!" the pink-haired annoyance beside him chimes in, leaning over the table at the izakaya to talk to you. It's the guy who's been trying to get your attention all night, a bright-eyed freshman who's very eager and, to Yuuta, incredibly brazen. Isn't it obvious from how much Yuuta sticks to your side and how much you smile around him that Yuuta's the only one for you? This freshman should be able to tell—everyone should.

It makes him sick.

"Half-way finished with uni," the freshman yells over the noise, a smile audible in his voice. “How does it feel?"

That's right, Yuuta remembers, this gathering is to celebrate the end of the semester. Yuuta never cared about these things, not before meeting you. To him tonight was an opportunity to get closer to you; he didn’t care what the actual reason for the gathering was.

You smile at the freshman. Yuuta tells himself it's different from the way you smile at him. Fake. Your eyes don’t twinkle the same, he tells himself. The confirmation calms the rolling boil of his blood, just a little.

"I'm glad," you nod, blinking up brightly at the freshman across from you. "Knowing you're halfway to the finish line is comforting, you know?"

Yuuta's gaze zeros in on your lips as you speak. You've put on lipstick tonight, a cherry red shade that looks shiny, pretty against your skin. You don’t normally wear such bright colors; you only did once, during a presentation, most days opting for that light blue little ball of chapstick you always use instead of any color. Maybe the fact that you wore a special lipstick meant that you had given this gathering just a little more importance. Is it cause he’s here? It must be.

As he stares, he wishes he could touch your lips, watch your lipstick smear and dull as it coats his lips, his fingers, his—

"What about you, Okkotsu-sempai?"

"I'm sorry?" He blinks out of his reverie, shakes his head as he wills the thoughts of you in compromising situations away. 

"You're halfway through too," the freshman smiles at him. Yuuta wonders who gave him the right to breathe. "You must be happy!"

"Not really," Yuuta starts. A frown forms on the other guy's face, a question evidently on his tongue as he bites his lip. Yuuta doesn't elaborate, turning back to take a sip on his beer.

"Okay then."

Maki laughs, "Itadori don't mind him, he's just being a dick."

"I know what will lighten you up, Okkotsu!" You're looking at him again with the goofy smile. You're tipsy at worst, sloshed at best, but he just finds this side of you endearing too.

He waves his hand, dismissing you with a soft smile. "I'm okay, don't worry about me, I—"

"Let's get some soju!"

***

"Soju was a bad idea."

It's Maki, who's just a little more than buzzed, that puts an end to your many rounds of drinks. Yuuta wasn't very interested in drinking, so he sipped on one shot-glass of soju for the evening, while you, Maki, and Itadori went toe-to-toe on shots of fruity alcohol. Maki's always had great endurance, alcohol included, but you and Itadori are nothing short of plastered. 

It turns out, Yuuta discovers just moments before the end of your drinking, that Itadori has a boyfriend. After downing the last shot of peach soju, Itadori's phone rings and he drunkenly answers with sobbing, whining professions of love to the owner of a dull, annoyed voice residing on the other side of the call. As Itadori's face falls down onto the wooden table, his phone slides out of his palm, and Yuuta gets a glance at the screen. It's a woman's name, Megumi, with a bunch of nonsensical emojis at the end. Yuuta doesn't pay much more attention to him after that—as long as he's not competition, Itadori's not worth thinking about anymore.

You however... you're leaning your head on Maki's shoulder, mumbling about how pretty you think Maki is. Yuuta doesn't want to have Maki on his bad side but he's certainly regretting letting her sit next to you right now, when that could've been him.

"Hey, wake up," Maki shakes your shoulder, and your head rolls with each gesture. "It's time to go home."

Your movements are slow and clumsy as you rise from the table. Itadori has Yuuta boxed in between the aisle and the wall, so he can't do much but watch as Maki helps you rise from your seat. 

"Time to go home," you say, your voice whispy and far-away. Maki props you up on her shoulder.

"I'll walk home with yo—"

"Wait!" Yuuta rises from the seat, pushing a sleeping Itadori out and onto the floor. The poor guy doesn’t even flinch and he tumbles onto the wood, slamming face-first against the grain. "I'll take her home." When Maki shoots him a look, he adds, “It's on the way for me. I don't mind it. Besides, you drank more than me, Maki."

Maki quirks a brow but trusts her friend. With eyes pointing down to the freshman, she says, “Okay. I’m close by here so I’ll keep an eye on the freshman till his boyfriend gets here. You get her home in one piece, alright?”

“Of course.”

Yuuta’s mood flips entirely, beaming as he dashes out of the izakaya and into the frigid February night with you in tow. How’d he get so lucky to be the one to walk you home? Maybe this insufferable gathering was worth it after all.

“Okkotsu-kuuuun,” you give his cold hand a healthy swing once you’re outside, walking down the street towards the closest train station. It’s a short subway trip to your apartment, but with how intoxicated you are, it’s best he gets you home safely.

“Careful,” he adjusts your linked hands, until your fingers are interlocked. He tucks you closer to his side when he feels how unbalanced you are. “You drank a little too much,”

“It’s okay,” you smile. Maybe it’s not so bad you’re drunk, since you’ve never smiled this much at him before. “You’re here, Okkotsu-kun.”

You trip over a piece of cracked concrete in the sidewalk and he catches you, pinning you to his chest. You stifle a giggle, something about the circumstances of it all is so silly to you. 

“You can’t walk,” Yuuta bends down, his hands coming together at his back. “Get on.”

“What if I’m heavy?”

“I’ll be fine. Get on.”

You take him up on his offer and sit on his back, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands have a firm grip on your thighs. He’s stronger than you’d expect, having no issue at all balancing you on his back. A little hum of approval leaves your lips that makes Yuuta glad he’s put so much effort into being strong for you. 

The one thing that does make him feel a little weak is how much he loves your scent. You still smell just like strawberries, though it’s a little tainted with the smell of apple and peach liquor. He’d only ever gotten to smell you up close that one time in the library. And those other times when you’re not able to notice…

“Okkotsu-kun?”

“Yeah?”

“How do you know where I live?”

Oh, that’s right. You haven’t told him where you live before. He freezes for a moment, the seriousness in your voice a sudden change from the bubbly, sweet drunken drawl you’ve had for the last hour.

You add, “Did Nobara give you our address?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” He nods, and continues to walk with you in tow. “Before she left, in case you needed help getting home.”

“Mm… she’s such a good friend,” you smile, laying your head against the back of his. Your body goes limp, and Yuuta wonders if you’re about to fall asleep as he carries you home… he doesn’t mind, but a part of him wishes you weren’t so drunk. It’s rare for him to get a chance like this, and it hurts to feel like he’s wasting it as your deep breaths warm his neck.

***

When you both arrive to your apartment there’s an eerie stillness about the apartment complex, perhaps due to the time of night as well as the thin, cold air. You’re still passed out, sleeping on Yuuta’s back, when he fishes a key from the dirt in a nearby potted plant you keep on the steps to unlock your front door. When you wake he’ll smile when you ask how you got home; he’ll tell you he borrowed your keys. The walls that know the truth will silently harbor his secrets.

Yuuta doesn’t need to turn on the lights; he could maneuver this place blind if need be. 

He toes off his shoes at the small genkan, the tiles stretching perhaps just a couple of square feet. After closing the door, he shifts your weight on his back as he takes one large step over the tile (he wouldn’t dare be rude and drag in any dirt). Through the kitchen, around your small island, and two doors to the left is your bedroom. He takes you there, and lays you down flat upon your bedding. He takes off your shoes for you, and once you’re sleeping soundly in your bed he does a mad dash for the genkan, to leave your shoes there for you once you awaken. 

Yuuta returns just as quickly as he left, and with the moonlight that pours through your windows he observes your sleeping face. With lips parted you heave a heavy sigh, like a tired puppy sprawled upon a cushioned bed after a day of play. He debates whether he should change you out of your day clothes—he wonders if you would want to sleep in something more comfortable. You usually do; he recalls your pajamas of choice are a t-shirt and panties. Should he change you into that now?

The thought of taking off your clothes overwhelms him a little, excitement buzzing his synapses alive. 

The first thing to go is your socks. They are tiny little things, at least smaller than his own, cut low to the ankle. He slips them off with no protest at all from you, his thumbs gliding across the arch of your foot as if tracing it and committing it to memory. Briefly, Yuuta glances up at you, but the touch of his hands across your heel, and then your ankles, does nothing to affect your state of consciousness. Can he get away with all of it without disturbing you? It’s a little challenge he’s decided to embark, to see how far he can push it tonight.

With eyes focused entirely on your cherry lips, on the soft breath that flows in and out past your just slightly open mouth, he continues. You’re wearing a pair of jeans, which he unhooks at the button just below your midriff. It gives him just the smallest peek at your panties underneath, something dark and lacey that pops against your skin. He swallows the desire that pools under and around the frenulum beneath his tongue as he lowers your zipper. Yuuta tells himself he’s just helping you get comfortable. Truly, to him, this is the ultimate test of his patience. 

Long, chilled fingers hook themselves beneath your waistband at either side of your hips. He starts to tug down. Within seconds you begin to squirm and Yuuta freezes, afraid that you will wake up and find him in such a compromising scenario. Would you believe him if he said this was only to help you? His visage, that of a gentleman that is rooted so deeply in your memory, would it assure you in your moment of confusion, or would it be corrupted and shattered? would this be his undoing?

He doesn’t have to wonder for long because as soon as your jeans are past the widest point of your thighs, you’re back to being boneless against your bedding. Part of him expected a little more fight from you; he’d thought his favorite girl was a little more inclined to self-preservation. The thought is followed by the notion that you must be trusting of him, even subconsciously. He loves that about you, the faith in him that no one else has. You’re so trusting. He’ll protect your naivety, along with the other qualities of yours that he finds so endearing. Innocence that only he wishes to keep, that no one else will dare corrupt.

Your jeans pool at the ankles before Yuuta gently slips them down over your feet and off your body. The panties you wore tonight are one of those cheeky kind, giving him the loveliest image of the fullness of your thighs and the curve of your hips. Your body’s more beautiful up close than he could have imagined, and he lets himself drag an open hand up one of your thighs, to feel how soft and supple you are. A thumb slips under your panties, the edge that’s just at your hip bone, just to let himself feel… it’s so hard being this close. There’s so much he wants to do with you, to you, but he’s sure it will happen in time. He tells himself he’s a patient man as he salivates at the thought of ripping your panties off. 

He doesn’t. But he wants to.

Your sweater, which is both a little too tight and a little too revealing (for his taste), is another beast to tackle. Yuuta deliberates it for some time before deciding the risk of waking you if he were to take it off is too great. After much back and forth, he decides to leave it alone. 

He tries to stand up from the crouched position at the edge of the bed but he finds it’s very hard to stay away from you after even one touch. Curiosity has him brushing his fingers over your clothed midsection, tracing the dip in your waist, his thoughts running a mile a minute. You’re so soft, so very vulnerable. How many guys who had approached you had seen what he sees in you? The beauty in something as simple yet as divine as your body… whenever he thinks about it there’s an urge to gauge their eyes out. He’d done some damage with his fists but it wasn’t permanent, so it wasn’t enough. 

His fingers shake a little as they approach the apex between your thighs. His lips part and brows furrow in concentration; fingertips just barely kissing the dark fabric that clings to your skin. It’s so warm, and the patch at the center has just the slightest hint of dampness. A middle finger glides between clothed puffy lips, first over the hood, then over a dipping point, what must be your entrance. Your breath hitches as he presses just a little harder. He wants to taste it—no, he needs to.

You whimper a little when he pushes just a bit too hard. He pulls away instantly, and the breath he’d been holding exits his body, the strain in his shoulders flowing out in waves. His jeans feel uncomfortably tight. Look at what you did, with just one single sound. He’s never been more excited; to know that even a single sound that left your mouth was entirely his doing drives him mad.

The finger that he had pressed against your clothed pussy now presses against his tongue. He doesn’t taste anything, to his disappointment.

He wants to satiate this need that boils in the pit of his stomach but, at least in this small moment of clarity, he thinks he can try to wait for a day when he will get your permission. He is patient, after all. 

Yuuta, in his frenzy to distract himself from your body warming the bed sheets in front of him, chooses to focus on the state of your bedroom. It’s a place that, at least to your knowledge, he’s never seen before.

It is in what he would consider to be a state of below-average cleanliness. This does not come as a surprise to him, and luckily with your state of consciousness (or rather, lack thereof), he does not expend the effort to pretend to be shocked. 

Despite the fact that finals have come and gone, the floor closest to the wall is littered with open textbooks and notebooks covered in haphazard scrawl. Clothes bulge out from your closet across from the bed, dark and light fabrics alike poking through the spaces between the slats, as if you had way too much clothes and not enough space nor enough of a care to organize it all. In the corner, just beside the entry door, is a wicker basket overflowing with laundry: among the articles are pair of jeans shoved into the edge; a sweater with a sleeve hanging out, reaching for your door knob to hide your mess; and panties, so many panties. Some patterned, with florals or little animals, and others cheeky, thin little strings that barely constitute cloth garments at all. The thought of you wearing such a little thing, barely an excuse for clothing at all, stirs something in him, something fierce and heady brewing between his thighs. Had you worn that around him? Have you ever thought of him taking it off of you? He’s thinking about it; thinking about it with such excruciating detail it makes his body sweat.

As he enters a staring contest with the pile of panties, he stops to consider the situation he finds himself in. You’re drunk, and the last thing that would curry favor with you would be to take advantage of you, so he shoves that away to the recess of his mind. You believe him to be a gentleman. So a gentleman he shall be.

But that doesn’t mean he can’t poke around.

He rummages through your laundry and he plucks out a few of your panties from the pile. Under the beam of moonlight, he looks them over: they must be at least a few days old, as they are no longer flimsy and fresh, just a little stiff. As if at one point they had been warm and wet, but no longer so. They’re soiled and dried out after sitting in your laundry. He picks the one he judges to be the worst offender. It’s a cute one—lacy at the edges, cotton in the middle.

He bunches it up in his fist. Then, he lifts it to his face. When Yuuta brings the wad of fabric to his nose he takes a long inhale, a satisfied moan threatening to break past his lips. He loves you so wholly and unconditionally, including the scent of your sex that lingers on your laundry. Especially so.

It’s not wrong if he does it out of love is it? It’s not disgusting if it’s love, right?

He tells himself so as he fills his nostrils with your scent, aroused by your discarded underwear like a fucking dog. He hovers over your laundry basket, forehead pressed against the wall, the tent in his jeans becoming more and more pressing of an issue to fix. 

“Look at what you do to me,” he sighs, breath warming the panties that he keeps pressed to his face. He knows you can’t hear him. But he wants you to look. He wants you to see him, see how desperately and ardently he feels for you.

His free hand makes quick work of his jeans—he snaps the button open with his index and thumb, and then soon after works the zipper down. His open palm snakes down, under the waistband of his boxers, and tugs on his length to alleviate his erection, even a little. 

As he takes another breath from behind the veil of your dirty underwear, he pumps at his cock. He does it slowly, savoring the moment he can finally get so close with you still in the room. 

Can you see him? Do you see how much he wants you?

Yuuta, despite what he believes, is not, in fact, a creature of patience. Within a few strokes he hears you sigh and he turns around to face you. You look so pretty on your bed in those cute little panties and that deep-cut shirt. So pretty. 

Suddenly, fucking his fist in the corner of your room facing away from you isn’t enough for him anymore. He’s so close to you, can’t he just get a little closer? He just wants to see your pretty face. He’ll apologize later. You’ll love him, so you’ll forgive him.

Yuuta moves towards your bed, on something that feels like instinct. Crawls onto your bed slowly, his breath balled in his throat as you sleep soundly. You barely flinch as the mattress dips and creaks with each slow shuffle of his knees. In one fist is your balled up panties, pressed just to the side of your head, holding up his weight. His knees are at either side of your hips as he hovers over you, caging you in like an animal of prey. 

All he can focus on is your face. 

Yuuta uses his free hand to swipe at your lips with his thumb, messing up the remnants of your red lipstick. He’d been wanting to do that all night, to smear the color along your skin until your natural lip color pokes through. You’re naturally so pretty—you don’t need any embellishments, not around him. But it does look quite beautiful all smeared, when it’s a mess made by his design…

He then takes his hand and cradles your jaw, moves it to the side, just enough so your sleeping face is facing his own. So he can look at you, so you can look at him too.

Just like that…

He imagines this will be his view the first time he’ll fuck you. 

You haven’t told him, but he knows you’re a virgin, so you’ll probably want him to be gentle. To be soft, just like this. To take the lead, to tell you “you’re so beautiful” just as he whispers it to you now. To move his hips slowly, let you adjust to him—just as he does now, rutting his clothed cock against your tummy. He does it with a lethargic, purposeful grind of his hips.

This is exactly how you will want it. He knows you. He knows you’ll love this. He knows you’ll love him.

You move a bit below him, stretching out a leg, and it lowers his cock to just above your panties. He wasn’t going to go that far, he only wanted to see you, to feel you. 

What a good girl—you want it too, don’t you?

With dark eyes focused entirely on your expressions, especially the soft little grin on your lips, he grinds his hips against your own once more. He moans when the tip of his cock catches on your clit, and feels a sudden drop in his stomach when your eyes twitch below closed eyelids. He needs to find a way to be quieter…

The panties in his balled fist are promptly shoved in his mouth, self-inflicted in an effort to quiet down/ To remain the gentleman you believe him to be. And he doesn’t mind it, actually. He even sucks on it, right on that stiff double-cotton lining in the center where he knows your pussy once was. A muffled noise leaves his lips as the tangy taste hits his tongue. 

He wishes he could taste the real thing, and imagines what kind of noises you’ll make when he does.

Another push and pull of his hips, and the pleasure he feels from just rutting against your clothed pussy is overwhelming. Would he even be able to hold back when he’s inside you? What kind of incredible feeling will sex be, when just rutting on you with clothes on it feels this good?

He stops thinking too hard about this and just lets himself feel. The fabric between the two of you gets wetter with every passing minute, pre-cum leaking from his cockhead and staining your panties. His teeth gnaw hard on the fabric, drool seeping through with every labored breath. He feels as if everything were soaking wet as he’s drowning in pleasure. And he loves this feeling, wants more more more.

Something happens, then, that has never happened in all the nights he’s watched you dream. As he humps your cunt through the fabric, pushing himself closer to the brink, he hears you whimper out “Yuuta”. In the state he’s in he doesn’t question it at all; his cock catches on your hole, just between the folds of your pussy, and he comes in his boxers pressed right against your sex with a broken moan muffled by your soaked panties in his mouth. What a sorry sight to see.

He rolls himself off of you and spits out your panties into the floor. As you turn over in your sleep he lays in your bed beside you, panting and blinking at your ceiling. Did that really just happen? Did he really get to come so close to you, right on your body, right when you said his name? 

He wonders if its possible to love you any more than he does right now.

Yuuta’s grinning like a fool as you lull back into deeper sleep again, your body turned to its side and facing away from him. His boxers and jeans are soaked through, and his chin and pelvis are sticky, but he has not a single care in the world.

Why would he care about anything else, when it’s so clear to him that he has you now? 

He buttons his pants closed and turns on your bed, to face your back. Once he’s no longer panting, emboldened by what just happened, he slides just a little closer to you. He won’t be able to sleep, not when just being in your presence alone makes his body feel electrified. So instead, he will watch you sleep. 

He slides an arm around your midsection, and curiously touches your panties with one of his fingers. It’s so wet, stained and soaked with his cum. 

He’s left his mark on you, for once.

He sticks that finger in his mouth again, as he had done earlier in the night. This time, he tastes himself. And he tastes you.

Satisfied, he lays beside you, and prepares for a long night of bliss.

#yuuta okkotsu #jjk

[smfics]

Don’t look @ me for this I’m sorry. Blame Twitter user kenkaru86 for putting yuuta & piss kink on my brain for the last week. Tagging @zorosdimples my fellow piss enjoyer

CW: piss, oral m!receving, forward!gn!reader. Length 1.3K. Banner @/cafekitsune

“Here?”

Yuuta’s voice is shaky as he watches you sink to your knees amongst guts and grime. You’re both covered in ooze, the gorey aftermath of a rather tricky semi-special grade curse lurking in this abandoned building, once a factory of some sort. Though Yuuta was more than capable of exterminating this curse on his own, he was never opposed to your company. And watching you fight was… well, he’d be the first to admit you’re an incredible force of nature, at the very least.

Despite the difficulty, the two of you made it out of the fight mostly unscathed, except for a few cuts and scrapes that Yuuta will heal for you on the way back. But where Yuuta comes out of it feeling tired, you’re always the opposite; invigorated by the fight, incensed by bloodlust, adrenaline. Muscles itching for something more, something to help mute the buzzing of cursed energy that leaves your body feeling haywire.

Maybe that’s why he insists on being your partner for missions, actually. Because right when the fight is over, you’re begging for an outlet… and he’s always willing to be that for you.

It’s seconds after the curse explodes into a violet, sticky puddle of gore that you drag him into the nearest bathroom, its surfaces grimy and tinted with dirt and mold, that you tug at his waistline and look up at him with pupils so wide he can’t even make out the color of your irises.

“Yes, here,” you reply, a giggle on your lips as you tug in the strings of his white cotton belt. You can feel him through his dark jeans, how despite his floundering he’s already half hard for you. “Cmon Yuuta.”

“B-but,” he looks around the tiled room, rather concerned with the state of the grime on the floor. “What if,”

“We cased the whole building. You know no one’s here.”

He backs up against the wall as the sound of you pulling down his zipper echoes in the small bathroom. You rub the palm of your hand against the bulge in his briefs and he shudders, sighing loudly.

“But Ijichi-san’s outside, the veil’s probably down by now, and—”

“Yuuta.”

You muster up the most watery eyes you can as you blink up at him. It’s almost laughable how quickly his tense shoulders sag, how the breath held so tightly in his chest dissipates.

“Please Yuuta? I want you so bad—don’t you want me too?”

He brushes the ichor away from your pretty face. He’d kiss you if you weren’t so far from his lips.

“I can never say no to you,”

“I know,” you smile. That devilish grin still paints your lips when you finish pushing down his pants and his briefs, fiendish and hungry stare on what you desire most.

Your hand wraps around his length, guiding it to your lips. As you suck on the tip, Yuuta’s head falls back against the tiled wall. It’s hard to look at you when you’re the one on your knees; he knows if he looks down at you he’ll cum before you’re even satisfied. You like the challenge: him trying not to cum, while you’re trying to make him cum.

You always win but, that’s beside the point.

Your tongue teases the bottom of his tip as you suck on it, and Yuuta doesn’t know what to do with his hands—for a while, as you begin to bob your head, he struggles with opening and closing his fists. You hear him moan, the sound amplified by the echoing off the walls.

“God—wait—” he huffs when you pull off, planting sloppy, wet kisses to his cock. “Wait—”

“What is it?” You flatten your tongue, rubbing it against the base, tracing the vein underneath with a look in your eyes that could give a succubus a run for her money.

“I, um,” he starts blushing, red to the tips of his ears. “I’m sorry, if you keep going I’ll—”

“Cum? Baby that’s the point,” you press his tip to your lips and blow on it. Truly horrible for his resolve.

“No—fuck, no,” he shudders again when you dip your tongue into hip tip, tasting the salty taste of his precum. “I—I have to pee.”

“So pee.”

There’s something very gratifying about the look of horror on his face when you suggest such a thing. What’s so bad about piss anyway? Bear Grylls did it, and he’s surely never battled a curse. You can drink a little piss.

“I can’t possibly—”

“Just let go, don’t think about it.”

“I can’t do that to you,”

“I want it,” you hum, every word vibrating against his cock. “You’d give me anything I wanted wouldn’t you, Yuuta? Cause you love me soooo much? Please?”

He covers his reddening face with his hands, flustered. But he doesn’t stop you when you take his cock past your lips, sucking on it, this time no longer teasing but with full intent to make him cum. Though he hides his eyes behind a forearm, you feel a hand on your head, guiding you. You take him deeper, cheered on by the lovely sounds of his broken moans.

You feel his thighs start to tense up and he exhales desperately, “I can’t hold it I’m sorry—”

He doesn’t think he’s felt more embarrassed in his life than he does right now, knowing that he can’t control the feeling. Despite his hand on your head trying to push at you, you hold onto his thighs, cementing your body in place. With shame swimming in his gut, he can’t hold back—he still feels the warmth of your mouth around him when he starts to feel himself pee.

And he can’t bear to look down. He doesn’t want to find out if you swallow or spit it out, so he keeps his eyes shut until it’s over, until the pressure in his bladder is gone and the tightness in his shoulders fades away.

You’re relentless though—when he finally opens his eyes he looks down and sees you, taking him deeper in your throat. You hollow your cheeks and relax your jaw. Yuuta’s already so close that when he looks down at you, it only takes a few thrusts into your hot, wet throat to finish him off. He groans as he spills into your throat, and you swallow gleefully when he pulls out, spit webbing between your mouth and his tip in a lewd display of affection.

Despite your shaky breaths your smiling, victorious.

“Did you… did you swallow that?” He asks between breaths, incredulous.

“Why don’t you kiss me and find out?”

Yuuta would never turn down an invitation to kiss you—so he joins you in kneeling on the ground, and shoves his tongue so far down your throat it can barely be called kissing.

“What do you think?” You ask him when he pulls away, amusement in your voice.

“You—”

Before he can finish his sentence, you’re broken out of the moment with the loud sound of his cellphone ringing. He hesitates to answer, looking you over with a thousand words in his gaze. before sighing and reaching into his pocket.

“Ijichi-san,” he answers, looking at you. You’re laughing, barely containing it behind a hand over your lips. “Sorry we got lost. We’ll be out right away.”

Yuuta quickly hangs up the call. And you expect him to lead you out, find Ijichi, and spend the next hour apologizing for making him wait. He’s polite to a fault, after all.

But after you stand, Yuuta instead lifts you up onto the nearby sink, pressing your back to the broken mirror above it.

“Yuuta?”

“It’s only fair,” he pouts, placing your ankles on his shoulders. “I’ll be quick.”

“No you won’t,”

He kisses you again, folding you in half atop the sink, your kiss still bitter and salty.

“I’ll try.”

#yuuta okkotsu #jjk

[smfics]

reposting that mtf maki x masc afab reader drabble for the maki cock enjoyers <3 wc: 0.9K, banner by @/cafekitsune

“Maki…”

The green-haired beauty in front of you kisses the corner of your lips just as her name leaves them. Your arms loop around her neck, and a pleased hum vibrates against your jaw as she kisses you lower, lower. She has you pinned against the bedsheets, a position you gladly accept.

“Mm… say it again,” she chuckles. If there’s anything about Maki is just how much she loves to tease.

Her bare chest, slickened with sweat, presses against yours. Her long green hair frames a curtain around you both as she kisses you, entirely eager and with so much teeth. You welcome her as she intends to devour you, fingers clutching the roots of her tresses to anchor you to reality.

“Maki,” you repeat her name again when she pulls away. An embarrassing sort of whimper leaves your lips when she creates some distance between your bodies… but she only does so to let her hands roam. Her palm warms the curves of your chest and waist before dipping lower, fingers slipping between your thighs. Your lips part in a slight gasp as they press against your clit.

“Maki!”

“I’ll make you feel good,” she coos, circling your sensitive bud with the pads of her fingertips. When she looks down at you, and sees you biting your lip to keep quiet, she adds, “Be as loud as you want, sweet boy.”

Her words fluster you and despite how your hips lean into her touch, your face turns away, flames licking your cheeks. “Don’t tease.”

“But you are my sweet boy, aren’t you?” She smiles. Your thighs immediately squeeze her sides as her fingers rub against you faster, coaxing you closer and closer to your peak. She’s so incredibly dexterous that it happens so quickly—not more than a few circles rubbed against your clit that your hips are arching up off the sheets and into her hand.

“Y-yeah,” you whimper, thighs clenched. “I’m yours.”

“Good. Won’t you cum for me?” She murmurs against your lips.

“Mmhm—just for you, Maki,” you gasp as she moves her fingers side to side, and as she presses a rough kiss to your lips, you whimper and cum onto her fingers, wetting them as you make a mess on the sheets.

“Good boy,” she smiles as she drags her wet fingers down to her cock. She gives it a pump as she haughtily adds, “I could watch you do that all night.”

“You can be so sadistic sometimes, Maki,” you giggle breathlessly. But you don’t protest, in fact, you angle your hips up to her as she rubs the tip of her cock against your slick cunt. “I want you to cum, too.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” she kisses you again, pressing the tip to your entrance. “It’s so much more fun to watch the faces you make.” She pushes the tip inside you, and is rewarded with the sight of your lips parting, your eyes squeezing as you start to take her. “Like this face of yours…”

“Don’t make fun of me,”

You can barely manage a fight as she pulls back, only to push more of herself into you. She laughs when you start to moan. “I’d never make fun of you, sweet boy. Keep moanin’ for me.”

“Mm,” she pushes your knees back as her hips finally collide with yours. “Oh—fuck, Maki”

“Just like that,” she hums in approval, hands grabbing at your waist. “Taking me so well, baby.”

You lift a hand to your face, to cover the embarrassing expression you’re sure you’re wearing right now. Maki pulls out and pushes back into you with a force that takes your breath away. Every time she takes you she carves herself into your insides, nestling herself into you so wholly.

Your hands around her neck pull her closer to you. “Kiss me, Maki?”

“Needy,” she smiles. Dips down to kiss you with longing behind her kiss, tongue dipping between her lips as her hips rock into yours. You can’t help but moan as she brushes against your sweet spot, her cock stretching you out and filling you up entirely. “You’re squeezin’ on me,” she exhaled, a smug smile behind it.

“Wanna cum,” your brows thread together as you start to feel another high approaching. “Please Maki”

She pushes your legs up, bending them as far back as they’ll go, and she grinds her hips against yours, so close that she’s able to push right against your clit as she fucks you slow and deep. She’s attentive, giving you what you ask for and more. Combined with her deep moans in your ear, you’re pushed further and further to that second high.

“I’m cumming, Maki,” you tighten your arms around her shoulders, “oh, fuck,”

She kisses you as you cum on her cock, giving her a satisfied moan swallowed by her lips. She pulls away as you start to come down, and with her palms she brushes away the sweaty hair that sticks to your forehead.

“You’re so cute when you cum. Pretty boy.”

“What about you Maki?” You ask her between breaths, your chest rising and falling against hers. Your stomach swirls every time she calls you something sweet—her affection for you makes you feel brittle and soft.

“Oh don’t worry about me,” she smiles. “It’s always much more fun watching you from up here.”

#maki zenin #jjk

[smfics]

true love comes from more than just the heart

yuuta x female reader, length: 1.5K CWs: yandere // reader has loose hair that can be tucked behind the ear // bruises A/N: This is a repost, lightly edited. banner by @/cafekitsune

Part of Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing series

Things with your project partner, Yuuta, have been awkward as of late. It’s been exactly three days, 5 hours, and 40 minutes since the moment he asked you if you wanted to go on a date and you’d let him down as easy as you could. You’d fed him some excuse about not wanting to date right now, not when you’re busy with classes and finals are approaching. But since then, he’s been missing from every group function, and every time your eyes meet in lecture hall it’s like looking at a kicked puppy. It’s eating at you from the inside out, and after said 3 days 5 hours and 40 minutes you can’t take the awkwardness anymore.

“Okkotsu-kun,” you sit down beside him in one of the libraries on campus. You weren’t sure if you’d find him here but somehow, every time you purposefully seek him out, he’s always within reach. “Can we talk?”

He has a laptop and a notebook open on the wooden table, which he promptly shuts as soon as you take a seat next to him. He tucks his arms under the table and looks at you with those very same soggy tired eyes of his. You wonder if he even sleeps at all.

“Sure. What do you need?” He tacks your name and the appropriate honorific on at the end, his voice dulcet and polite.

“I just… feel bad about what happened. We still have to work together on our project and besides that, I like talking to you… but it feels weird suddenly. I feel like you’ve been avoiding me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well you didn’t show up for recitation or group study yesterday… bailed on our project meeting the day before that…” you’re wringing your hands on your lap, and Yuuta’s staring at them instead of looking at you. “Are you listening to me?”

“I just needed some time to myself,” he tries to offer you a soft smile but it comes out more like a wince. 

“Aren’t we friends? We don’t have to cut ties just because of—”

“I dont want to cut ties at all.” His voice comes out a little harsher, colder than he’d wanted. In a lower, gentler voice he adds, “it’s because we’re just friends that I just… needed some time.”

“Yuuta-kun.” He looks back up at you directly, forced to by the fact that you’d used his first name and reached out for his hand. He feels his heart in his throat. “It’s not you, it’s just…”

How do you explain this to him, really? Because it is partially him—your best friend and roommate Nobara had drilled into your head that he’s bad news from day one. But in reality, to you, he’s something of a yellow flag, maybe even a pale green. Not red, not yet. Because there’s nothing really wrong with him at all. He’s just a little intense at times, when he’s not being nauseatingly polite and oozing with kindness and consideration. You don’t entirely see whatever darkness it is that Nobara sees in him.

When he perks up in his seat you imagine a dog with ears pointed up, turned at you. Cute.

“I guess I have really bad luck with guys and it’s been a bit nerve-wracking going about dating. I don’t think I’m ready for that again, not with you.”

“What do you mean bad luck?” He blinks, confused.

“Ever since university started, things have just been so strange…” you subconsciously try to pull your hands away, but Yuuta holds them close to his own. You feel a reassuring squeeze. “I’d get close to someone, they’d seem interested… maybe even flirt or meet for a date… but not long after that they’d just vanish and ghost me. Even as recently as a couple weeks ago, I’d been talking to a guy in civics who then stopped coming to class altogether… It’s happened enough times that I’ve just sworn off dating, you know? I guess it’s for the best—maybe the universe just wants me to focus on school, not on relationships with other people. It’s distracting, anyway.”

As you ramble, Yuuta’s thumb glides over your fingers, lulling you into a sense of comfort. It’s nice to talk about this with someone so patient, someone who isn’t as blunt as your roommate; she had blamed you for every person who would disappear soon after coming close to your orbit. You love her to death but coming to her with a hurt ego only makes the wound sting.

“It’s not you at all!” When he feels eyes on him, the other patrons of the library glaring at him for his outburst, he quiets his voice yet again. “You’re perfect. Anyone who doesn’t see that is wrong and doesn’t deserve you at all.” 

You smile at the sureness and totality in his voice. He’s entirely convinced you could do no wrong, and it feels kind of nice to have someone in your corner for once.

You take one hand out of his grip to push back a lock of your hair and in the process manage to look down at your intertwined hands. To your surprise, his hands are bandaged at the knuckles. How had you not noticed that? And peeking from the corners of said bandages are bruises, faded hues of blue and purple. They aren’t fresh, but they look gnarly, the skin taut over his knuckles just about to burst at the seams.

“What happened to you, Okkotsu-kun?” You twist and turn his hands in yours, and he finds that he likes the attention from you—likes it so much he doesn’t dare pull away. His hands go limp in your palms, soaking up their warmth. “Did you have these the last time we spoke?”

“Um… I’ve been working out with a friend these last few weeks. Boxing.” 

You laugh, a sigh of relief visibly making your tense shoulders sag. It’s with this that Yuuta realizes that you’re not the type to pry. You trust him.

“What made you take that up?” You release his hands, to his internal dismay. “Looks painful.”

He shrugs and tucks his hands back under the table, away from your line of vision. “Hmm… I don’t know. Just something to do, I guess.” 

“I never took you as the type to do anything like that.”

He tilts his head. You watch one of the small hoops in his earlobe sway with the movement.

“Really? Why?”

“You’re just always so nice. You give off such a sweet vibe. Like you help grannies cross the street in your spare time, or some shit like that.”

You both share a chuckle, the first time you’d both smiled at each other since before he’d tried to ask you on a date. You find yourself stuck on the curve of his lips, pink and slightly chapped. 

Why did you reject him again…?

The strand of hair that you’d tucked behind your ear falls forward again, and this time Yuuta is the one to tuck it back for you. It feels so natural for him to do it, that you stay still and let him.

“The Yuuta in your mind is such a gentleman, isn’t he?”

You giggle at his choice of words. Why’s he talking about himself like that? The look in his eyes is a little strange, but in your heart, you agree. He’s never given you a reason to believe otherwise.

“Yeah… he definitely is.”

“I’m glad.” He holds the end of the lock of your hair between his fingertips, curling your hair around his pointer finger. He inhales deeply—you smell like strawberries at this distance. It’s lovely.  

He sighs. His breath sounds so heavy, diffusing the tension between you. “I’m sorry I made things awkward. I hope we can still be friends…”

Your smile is bright. Incorruptible. It’s so fucking pretty—always is.

He lets your hair fall out of his grasp.

“Of course, it’s why I came here. I want to be friends… As long as you want to be.”

He wants to say forever. He wants to tell you he never wants to be apart and never wants to see that smile fade. He even wants to tell you about all the fantasies he has in his head where you’re married and tucked away in a forest somewhere, to be each other’s gravity, the entirety of each other’s universes. But he swallows the words instead—that’s just a little too much for you, right now. Even he knows this. Yet somewhere in his mind, he’s certain he’ll be able to say everything he wants to say to you wholeheartedly soon. 

He just has to be a little more patient…

“I do.”

#yuuta okkotsu #jjk

[smfics]

let me out, I'm starving

yuuta x female reader, length: 4.0K CWs: yandere // reader and Nobara are eating food // explicit sex // allusions to rough sex/roleplay A/N: This is a repost but I have combined it with another post and edited it so this is much longer than the original post I made on my old blog. banner by @/cafekitsune.

Part of Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing series

“He what?”

You wince as you’re met with Nobara’s screech right beside you, and choose to ignore her outcry coupled with the clattering of dropped chopsticks. You punctuate your willful silence with another mouthful of noodles, and Nobara continues to gape at you with an accusatory stare.

It’s “girls night” as she so eloquently (forcefully) declared naught but a few minutes ago, showing up to your shared apartment with takeout and a mission. 

Said mission? 

Getting you to quit seeing that situationship of yours, Yuuta Okkotsu.

It’s not that he is a bad guy per se; he’s incredibly polite, with a voice and countenance so sweet and timid anyone would find him charming. But he gives Nobara the creeps. She swears if you ever turned up missing, his basement would be the first place to check. 

(The second time she said that to you, your first thought was to wonder if his basement wasn’t so bad a place to be).

You don’t have it in you to confront the fact that she’s right: Yuuta is weird. 

Outwardly, there wasn't actually anything weird about him when you first met. He's handsome—not 'People Magazine's Top 100 Sexiest Men' handsome, but handsome enough to get your attention. He dressed inconspicuously, stuck to the back of classrooms, and kept mostly to himself. But he had friends, that much you knew from the times you'd seen him around. And he was always kind: opening doors for you, offering you a smile, and later sticking around and chatting with you as acquaintances would, once you got more friendly. He wasn't exactly serial killer material; not to the exaggerated level that Nobara had placed him in the very first time you ever mentioned an interest in him. Sure he was a bit of a loner, but that wasn't a crime.

It took a few more intimate encounters for you to find that Nobara's intuition wasn't far off. Despite her disinterest in them, she's never wrong about men, it seems.

It’s the eyes. 

He has this stare that roots you in place, that makes the bones beneath your skin feel like the layers around them aren’t thick enough to hide away from him. You wonder if he can see the reds and yellows of your bone marrow beneath the layers of compacted calcium. 

Just that deep, endless blue looking down at you makes your knees too weak to stand. As confident a person as you are, you're reduced to a newborn fawn, struck down to the earth with no strength in its feet. Those first few moments where you're bare beneath him it's like you've never taken a step and are too afraid to. But the fear has never pushed you away—in fact, it’s only drawn you nearer to him, your body a willing addict as it asks for more, more, more. 

It's like a person who's afraid of heights becoming addicted to skydiving. The fear is there, it's heavy on your chest when you look down and out of the plane. But you come back and make the jump—over and over, the adrenaline and fear a nitrous; an incredible blood rush.

Perhaps any other prey animal would feel skittish in the presence of a predator such as him, even if he's tamed. But it doesn’t work on you, not entirely. He makes your skin crawl but your heart race, like watching a horror movie from the comforts of the sticky, dirty seats of a cheap movie theater. The seats aren’t remotely comfortable but the movie’s too good to tear your eyes away.

Besides, you wouldn't get up and dash out of a movie theater for being scared. The threat is contained. The movie isn't real, no matter how much adrenaline rushes through your veins—at least, your mind is convinced that it can't hurt you. Because the serial killer or the scary zombie in the screen can't jump out at you, can't actually harm you... can it?

Anyway, that’s what it feels like to be with Okkotsu Yuuta. 

Everything he does seems to be both gentle and intense, purposeful and impertinent, yet mindful and considerate. Like he's apologetic for taking up space, for existing, but not so for feeling. He's unapologetically a bleeding heart, and he offers it to you. It makes for a dangerous combination—a man with no self-preservation, but the most intense hunger imaginable. More than once had he compared his desire for you to starving. And you believe him, having felt the intensity of his feelings in the strength of his grip and the bite of his teeth.

He’s never done anything to truly make you fear for your life—but you don’t doubt that he could.

“He asked me to marry him,” you repeat the words after you swallow your noodles. The phrase feels like a foreign language on your tongue, sounds like your speaking through the bottom of a glass bottle. It doesn’t feel real when you say it aloud, not like it felt when he whispered them to you this morning over your shoulder.

“He’s fucking insane,” Nobara guffaws, incredulous. Like it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard. “You’re not even dating him.”

“I don’t think he cares,” you reply. There’s this weird grin on your face, to Nobara’s horror. Are you even entertaining something so—

“He should. He should ask you to date him—”

“Well we—”

“—do normal shit like going out to dinner or something—”

“But he does take me out—”

“—get down on one knee—no, both his knees—”

“Nobara.”

“—first he needs to beg you for forgiveness for all those fucking bruises—”

“But I—”

“—Then, he needs to promise to stay a hundred feet away from you for at least a year—”

“Nobara, that’s ridiculous. I—”

She holds up a finger. “I’m not done.”

Your shoulders sag as she continues:

“You need at least a year of dating normal guys to remember what normal, not potential serial killer men are like. And then maybe I’ll allow him to breathe the same air as you again. Maybe.”

"He's harmless."

She quirks a brow in silence.

"Okay maybe not harmless, but he never did anything I didn't agree to."

That’s a bit of a lie, but Nobara doesn’t need to know that.

"You know," she starts, as she picks up her chopsticks and starts picking up another pinch of noodles, "You were so innocent before you ever let crazy stick itself between your legs. Normal."

"I resent that."

"It's true!" She stuffs the noodles into her mouth, but continues talking. You've seen each other at rock bottom, so she's way past something as small as talking with her mouth full. "Before Okkotsu you hadn't even shown a guy your tits before. You were a virgin when you met him! Now he's got your wrists tied to his bed and got you calling him nii-san—"

You flush, "That was one time!"

"He's fucking weird! The hickeys you come home with are nasty, dude. What if he's a fucking vampire?"

"That'd be kind of hot."

"You're beyond saving," she sighs into her noodle carton. "No man's dick is that good." When you're silent for more than a beat, she groans. "Okay, even if it is, he's, like, two steps away from chaining you to a radiator or something. Some Ted Bundy shit,"

"That would never happen," you shrug, digging into your noodles once more, "Why would he wanna date me so bad if he just wanted to do some shit like that?"

"He'll Stockholm syndrome you into it. Don't call me when he's got you tied to a toilet."

You chuckle. "You don't know him, okay? He can be a little intense but he's harmless. Devoted, even."

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, spare me the story about him eating you out the entire night on the first date, okay. I refuse to be jealous of you and him."

"It was amazing though," you grin like a fool. "I think he's more into eating pussy than sex."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Okkotsu supposedly being the world's number one munch aside—" she ignores your chuckling, "—what did you tell him when he said that?"

"What, the marriage thing?" She nods, and there's a snap and fizzing sound as she opens a can of beer. "He was literally balls deep in me, what was I supposed to say?"

"Uh, push him off and run the fuck home, maybe? Anyone with sense would," she retorts as she takes a sip of her beer. 

"But I like him."

That has her spitting out her beer dramatically. She is one for theatrics sometimes. "I thought you said you'd never date him."

"I've always liked him! He's just... intense, you know? It put me off before but..."

"But?"

Your thoughts fall back to the early hours of this morning, right before the whole 'marry me' sex thing, when you'd woken up first and got a glimpse of his sleeping face. His lips parted just a little, locks of black strewn across his forehead, an innocence about him that made all those intense, scary moments feel trivial. An unconscious arm around your waist as you cuddled up to his chest, prey safe in the arms of its captor. He'd never hurt you, he'd keep you safe—a feeling as soothing as it is addicting.

You find yourself just as wanting of moments like those as you are of the thrill. Is there ever a moment that you haven't wanted to be in Yuuta's grasp?

As soon as his body began to twitch awake, eyes slowly blinking the sleep away, you had turned over and faced away from him, embarrassed at the way your stomach felt like worms when he stirred to life. The arm around your waist tightened, pulling you closer.

"You stayed."

His voice was thick with sleep, his warm breath fanning against the nape of your neck. Judging by the still dark sky beyond the windows, you'd maybe only fallen asleep for an hour or two. Your eyes widened at the realization that, despite sleeping together for several months, this was indeed the first time you'd slept in his bed after sex. It was what later prompted Nobara's 'intervention' of sorts: her fears that whatever you were doing with Yuuta had reached a point of no return.

"Is that," you paused to clear the sleep from your throat, "Is it okay that I stayed?"

"I always ask you to," he rubbed his palm up the curve of your side. "You can stay in my bed forever," he muttered as he kissed the bruise on your neck, a bite he'd left just a little while ago turning dark as the blood under the skin pooled. "You know I wouldn't mind."

"Yuuta." you angled your head as he continued to mouth at your neck. The way you said his name felt like a warning. Perhaps 'Down dog' would've had the same effect.

"I know," he leaned closer to your back, shameless as his length, hardened, pressed against the back of your thighs. "I'm a little stubborn though... and patient. For you, at least. I'll wait until you say yes."

He always said it like it was inevitable. The question of you agreeing to be with him, for more than just sex, was never a matter of if, but when.

And when he soon after pushed you down gently, propped your hips on one of his pillows, and fucked you lazily from behind as you hid your flustered face into your arms, he wondered if he'd finally had you. Because if he was stubborn you were downright impossible, always immediately rebuking his advances with an 'I'm not ready for a relationship right now' or some similar excuse. To which he'd tuck his tail between his legs and brush off the rejection, man up, and fuck you like he owed you the best night of your life—every fucking time.

But today no such rejection came. He said he'd wait until you'd say yes and you didn't say no. When he soon after had caged in your body with his, his body entirely surrounding yours as he pressed you into his bed, he'd gotten carried away, spurred on by your first lack of rejection in months.

"I wanna marry you," he'd told you as he grinded his hips into your backside. The angle in this position was incredible, you had to bite down on your arm to stop from moaning awfully loud. Yuuta wished you would. "I can't stand the thought of anyone else doing this with you. I think I'd kill them."

"Yuuta," you moan his name into his mouth, and it always sets him off to hear you say it. "D-don't joke around like-like that."

Despite your words, you didn't think he was kidding.

And, you realized, you didn’t think you minded if he wasn’t.

A sound, something like a laugh, or maybe a breath of relief, tumbled out of his throat when you squeezed down on him in response. He'd angled your head to the side, to kiss you roughly, full of bite. You returned his kiss as his words made you a combination of afraid and excited. Would you ever get tired of the feeling?

Yuuta was like a rabid dog collared, restrained only by your previous rejections, and for a moment you wanted to know what all of him felt like. What would a Yuuta Okkotsu be like if he were set free, if he were given the ability to satiate this hunger? Would he finally consume you whole, or would he stop baring his raw, beating heart so desperately and relent?

"I'm not joking," he pulled back a little, just to rest his head against your nape. Every word felt hot as his breath warmed the skin between your shoulder blades. "Wanna be with you—marry you and everything. Whatever you want, I'll do. I don't care how it sounds, I just—"

"It sounds crazy," you replied, not a hint of malice in your words.

"I know, I—"

“I like you, Yuuta.” You interrupted what was sure to be another round of ramblings from him about how badly he wants to be with you. You’d heard it so many times, and slowly but surely each attempt had helped his feelings worm themselves deeper and deeper into your guarded heart.

He, who had you pinned down to the bed under him as he fucked you from behind, tensed up at your confession.

"Just... slow down a little, okay? Dating comes first. Do it properly, yeah?”

“What?” He completely stopped everything, pulling out and sitting on his knees absolutely star-struck.

You turned around underneath him and matched his posture, finding yourself breaking out into a smile at his look of surprise. Of all the things, this was what broke him?

"I like you… I think about you doing this with someone else and get jealous too… you scare me a little, but I like you. But we should date first, I think." 

His lips started to turn up into an incredulous smile. "Can I... be your boyfriend, then?”

In a voice that’s a little too playful to be considered scolding, you replied, ”Will you stop talking about killing people if I say yes?”

Among all the things he’s said to you, about how badly he wants to marry you or how many kids he’d give you, what stood out in your mind was the way he said he’ll kill anyone who stood in his way. But could someone who blushes as hard as he was blushing at that moment, possibly take a life with his bare hands?

He nodded, suddenly feeling sheepish. You’d turned him into a whole different person, practically.

“Then yes… I want you to be my boyfriend. And you can’t be my boyfriend from prison if you kill people.”

He laughed—god, of all things, he couldn’t stop laughing. His arms reached out to you and he cradled your jaw in his big palms. He leaned into you, and even when he kissed you he was laughing, giggling like a fool. Disbelief surrounded the love that made his heart ram against his ribs, and the feeling left him so incredulous he could only laugh.

“I can, as long” kiss “as I” kiss “don’t get caught.” kiss 

He could barely keep his lips off of yours, and as his kisses became deeper, you found yourself being pushed back down into his bed, facing him this time. You wrapped your arms around his neck and let him slot himself between your legs. He held himself up by the forearms, and as his nose brushed against yours, the ends of his hair falling across your cheeks, his eyes found yours again. They were still as captivating as ever.

“Do you really mean it? You have feelings for me?”

His stare was intense, like he was searching for any sign of deception in yours. He found none.

“Yes, I mean it, Yuuta… I really do.”

It’s impossible to explain, even to yourself. How his obsessive feelings somehow had fueled your own—how you spent the days leading up to this seeping in jealousy at the mere thought of anyone else being in the position that you were in now. It made no sense, falling for someone like Yuuta—who’d stalked you, hurt others around you—but somehow it made all the sense in the world.

He slotted his lips against yours again, in a kiss that was absolutely smoldering. He was intense, as always, but it felt different too. An arm hooked around your thigh, hiking it up to his waist, and without even breaking the kiss he quite easily slid his cock back into you, picking up where you’d left off moments before your confession. You moaned against his lips as you lifted your other leg, hooking it around his other side, and felt yourself being pushed up as he carved himself into you once again. Could anyone else mold themselves into you so perfectly the way he does? Would anyone else even be given the chance to try?

“I love you,” he said, forehead pressed against your own. It was not the first time he had said it, nor will it be the last, but certainly it was the first time you’d ever accepted it wholly into your heart. “Please—tell me you love me,” he begged against the throbbing pulse of your throat. He sounded like he would fall apart if you didn’t say it, his soul so weakly held together by his feelings for you.

You’ve come to accept it as a part of him: that as long as Yuuta Okkotsu loves you, you are his entire world.

And right at that moment caged under his arms and pinned down by his gaze, it felt like he was your entire world, too.

“I love y—oh,” you were cut off by your own gasp as every ounce of his strength was suddenly hooked under your knees, pushing your thighs flat to your chest, weighing you down and robbing you of your breath. A whine, like a dying animal, escaped your lips as your body was kneaded and contorted in his heavy palms, pliable like dough. The way he touched you, fucked you—it was so different from before. He’d always done it with a desperation to please you, to convince you that he’s worthy of your love. But now that he had it, he wanted every last drop, and planned to pry it out of you himself.

“Again,” you crossed your ankles at his nape, toes curling as his pelvis made contact with your body. “Say it again—pleaseplease—“

“I love you,” you told him—though it’s less spoken word and more an exhale, your lungs were barely able to take in a breath with the weight that lay on your chest. “S-so don’t—don’t hurt anyone,” you gasped. “I’m right here, Y-Yuuta,” you implored him, eyes wet with unshed tears.

“Thank you,” he breathed into your mouth—for what you were doing was less kissing, and more trading breaths. Your nails dug into the meat of his shoulders, nails like grappling hooks as you hung on for your life. You squeezed down on him, enamored with the beautiful, pitiful strain in his voice, and he smiled. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You’d never felt closer to God in your life.

“I’ve loved you for so long,” he started to mumble, the words barely perceptible to you. His thrusts onto your body didn’t stop, in fact, they only got messier, needier. “So many times I thought you’d let someone else in—someone who wasn’t me—“ he pried your fingers off his shoulders, the bloodied crescents marking his skin. He pinned your hands down to the bed, his fingers slotting perfectly in-between, and squeezed hard enough to tempt your digits to bursting, leaving nothing but bone. “But it had to be me—who else can love you like I do?”

He paused long enough for you to open your eyes, to look into his, so glazed over with lust and devotion that there was no other answer to give. “N-No one—ah—No—“

“I know,” he pressed his forehead to yours as your legs fell to his sides, his eyes closing in rapture. “No one else.”

Was that the side of him that you always refused to see? The rabid animal that keeps itself trained, claws at bay; the raw, unfiltered strength that lies in every inch of his body masked by the tenderness he holds for you. You love it, despite how much you shouldn’t; you love every single fucking moment that this man is turned into an absolute lunatic over you. Perhaps you are just as bad as he is, for reveling in it and allowing him his moments of heresy.

Your brows drew together as you reeled in what could only be described as a whole-body experience: an orgasm that felt like every organ beneath your skin had been squeezed of its juices, pulp rendered and offered to him as you wailed into his mouth. He accepted it with an offering of his own, spilling himself into you when you kissed him. He kept his body as close to you as he could while he trembled, throbbed. His chest heaved against your own; and he kissed you so many times across your face you lost count, the waves and aftershocks of orgasm claiming you both until there was nothing but soft panting and the slightly awkward stare from his blushing, sweaty face.

Your stomach lurched at the sight. If only you could tell the you from a few months ago, the one who was so afraid of being with him, that the only thing to be afraid of is the thought of doing without such devoutness. 

To those who’d ask why you’d kept crawling back to Yuuta’s bedsheets, even after you’d learned the depth of his devotion: once you’ve had a taste of such fervent piety, it’s impossible to imagine a moment without it. 

Color pools over your cheeks as you sift through that memory, much later now, over noodles in front of your best friend Nobara.

"Yeah he's intense but I think it makes my boyfriend even cuter," you smile bashfully. “I don’t want him to feel like that for anyone else… I like that he’s crazy about me… is that weird?”

"Did you just say boyfriend?"

When you nod she shakes her head and groans.

"Fuck, you're just as insane as he is."

#yuuta okkotsu #jjk

[smfics]

Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

Yuuta Okkotsu x fem!reader

college AU // noncon + yandere themes

Summary: Professor Geto pairs you up with the quiet loner boy in the class, Yuuta Okkotsu, for a semester-long project. You find yourself becoming friends with him, despite the fact that everyone around you finds him strange and off-putting. And even though you’ve rejected his advances, at the end of the semester, you find yourself in an unexpected arrangement: friends with benefits.

A/N: much of this is reposted from my old blog. I may edit/extend/change things before reposting.

➳ true love comes from more than just the heart CWs: yandere / blood / bruises Fresh off the wounds of rejection, you approach Yuuta and ask if you can be friends.

➳ obsession is such an ugly word CWs: yandere / noncon / drug use You and Yuuta both attend a gathering at an izakaya celebrating the end of the semester. Yuuta only attends with hopes of spending time with you; he gets that and more.

➳ heaven is my knees on your bedroom floor CWs: yandere / noncon / oral sex You wake up the morning after with your classmate sleeping next to you in bed. What could go wrong there?

➳ and maybe I'm a little crazy but I won't break your heart CWs: yandere / suggestive You get a little curious and dig around Yuuta's bedroom, but find more than what you bargained for.

➳ I'm not obsessed; far worse, I'm fine A journal entry.

➳ feeding frenzy CWs: oral sex It's March 7th, Yuuta's birthday, and who else would he rather spend it with than you?

➳ I want you in the most unromantic ways CWs: roleplay sex / incest kink Roleplaying in the bedroom is getting a little weird, even by Yuuta's standards.

➳ let me out, I'm starving CWs: yandere / explicit sex Despite Nobara's attempts at convincing you otherwise, you and Yuuta are official!

#yuuta okkotsu #jjk

[smfics]

cw: noncon, reader is restrained, oviposition, monsterfucking, belly bulge, blood, breeding, size kink, two (large) dicks, yuuta bites reader with his fangs. Mentions of a past experience on Yuuta’s part. reader is mentioned to be ovulating. Naga!Yuuta x fem!reader. Shoutout to Sage anon for starting the naga!yuuta agenda… sorry. it's the voices. you know how it goes. Length: 2.1k Banner by @/cafekitsune

For a creature that's holding you against your will, Yuuta is surprisingly considerate.

Despite telling you that the only reason he hasn't eaten you yet is because he can smell how fertile you are, he hasn't touched you in the week since he's kept you in his cave. Earlier, you told yourself it was perhaps because he's changed his mind. Or maybe he had realized, over the last week, that he did not actually want you to "carry his brood" as he so crudely put it himself within minutes of meeting you. Maybe he changed his mind, and was simply using you as a heater at night (which wasn't so bad, admittedly. Being surrounded by his thick tail was definitely better than cold, hard cave floor).

You had high hopes of being freed gently, after a week of him feeding you and attempting to charm you with the bloodied belongings of deceased spelunkers who were not as lucky as you were. You had told yourself that this half snake-half man creature that you could only dream up in nightmares was actually just being kind to you and would release you once your body was healed up enough to move. It was a nice thing to tell yourself each time you were faced with him reappearing from the dark, covered in blood, actively choosing not to feast on your flesh. It had to be for a reason, right?

After you'd eaten a meal of questionable origin (as all meals given to you by him were) he'd taken to his daily habit of 'smelling' you with his tongue. It is a strange thing, indeed, to watch his human lips part and produce a thin, forked tongue. It was nothing short of invasive, having him taste the air surrounding your body. And each day he'd mumble something along the lines of 'not yet'; you didn't understand what he meant by such a thing, and he did not offer to elaborate.

But today the smelling/tasting/whatever he was doing with his tongue produced a different result. Today, with a satisfied hum, he smiled at you with fangs protruding, the dark slits in his eyes looking especially fiendish.

"You're ready."

"Ready for what?" you asked, innocently, as his thick mass of tail had coiled itself around you. It was just on the edge of constricting, as its weight settled on your limbs.

What a naive girl you were.

His answer came to you in the form of him holding you down in his nest, scaled tail too weighty for your limbs to even dream of pushing back. And even with your incessant wriggling, he manages to peel away the layers of your clothing. It leaves your pretty, small human body delightfully open for him. He can’t peel his eyes off of your glistening cunt if he tried.

And despite the week spent in his captivity it is at that moment that you see him for the first time—two large, phallic appendages emerging from a slit where a human man's reproductive organs would be.

Does he really intend to put both of those inside of you?

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt,” he says, fingers digging into the meat of your thighs as the rest of your body is immobilized. You want to say something, anything, but honestly you’re still so stuck on the sight of his two penises. They are way too big for your body, that much you know for a fact.

“It’s—they—they’re too…” your body attempts to move away from his approaching tongue, shoulders pressing back against the flooring. Your body moves not even an inch, held so firmly in place.

“I’ve heard that our saliva assists in easing the pain,” he tells you, syllables just slightly slurred by the weight of his tongue. “I will do my best.”

“H-have you,” you swallow, as his tongue flicks across the small space between his (admittedly) handsome face and your pussy. “Have you done this before?”

His dark eyes widen a little as he says, “Once. Another human.”

You don’t have time to question it any further—when he finishes speaking he unhinges his sharp jaw, further than a human should be able to, and quickly pierces your vulva with four fangs. The piercing scream that leaves your lips echos off the cave walls, pain stinging where he bites. Tears well at the corners of your eyes but the pain doesn’t last very long; just as soon as you begin to feel his teeth pull away, blood bubbling up from the wounds, so does a feeling of numbness begin to seep through the source of your pain. It is as he said—the saliva he leaves in your open wounds fizzles out the pain into nothingness. In mere moments, if it weren’t for the blood in the crack between your thigh and your pussy, you’d forget about the bites entirely.

He flicks his tongue over each bite-wound, and surely the area between your legs starts to feel—well, you can’t feel, actually. At least you’ve stopped thrashing about, to Yuuta’s relief.

It is behind the cages of dark lashes that he looks up at you when he’s done licking the blood away. Though your senses are dulled, you can vaguely feel his forked tongue swipe over your hole. Despite how much you don’t want this, your body responds to the stimulus of his tongue with dripping arousal—he can taste it, the tangy nectar that you drip for him. And to think you had resisted so intensely.

“So warm,” he notes, cool breath passing over your pussy. “You’re perfect.”

You do the math in your head, thinking to yourself that between your last period and the time you’ve been in this cave, it has to have been about two weeks…

Is what he is sensing… ovulation?

Your thighs shake against his palms, struggling as you watch his tongue begin to push itself inside of you. It’s the strangest sensation, that despite the numbness, you can feel his thin, forked tongue move around inside of you, coating your walls in that thin, sticky substance that is his saliva. Just as he had numbed the space between your legs, this too he covers in venom. It reaches a point where you can no longer feel the movements of his tongue, and your body turns boneless against his tail, tired from resisting.

When he pulls away, long tongue no longer numbing your insides, you look down upon his body once again. You more closely inspect his two cocks, noticing quite a difference between the two. The second, lower one is quite thicker, its girth intimidating, maybe even downright frightening. The upper one is thinner, more human-like in size and shape. Though it is large by human standards, it is not as scary as the first one. But the thought of him using both on you, perhaps even at the same time, has your heart pumping out of your stomach. Numbness be damned.

“B-both of those?” You blurt out, eyes wide in fear as his body draws nearer to yours.

“Ah, no,” he tells you, to your relief. “First, eggs. Then, mating.”

Again, you struggle against the weight of his body. Words like “please” and “don’t” leave your lips but he has kept you here for this purpose alone—surely, he’s told you this before, hasn’t he? You’ve accepted his gifts, his foods, his care. He has done it all for you, the one who will help him sire his brood.

He uses the lower cock first, its girth stretching you impossibly wide. He is as gentle as he can be, pushing in slowly and watching for any signs of pain. He had taken his time numbing you, and it seems to have paid off—besides general discomfort, the anguishing stretch that he had expected (judging from his last experience, anyway) did not seem to bother you as much as he thought it would. Your eyes screw shut as he stuff you full with his cock, and as he waits for you to adjust to his full size, he feels the muscles in your thighs relax. The resistance of your upper body against his tail wanes.

“Good girl.”

The sweet tone of his voice makes you shudder. It’s almost unfair that a monster using you like this can be so handsome, can sound so reassuring. You feel him pull out halfway, just to push back in. His upper cock, the one not inside you, rubs against your clit, creating a devastatingly delicious friction. And you watch your belly as he thrusts again, a bump moving along in time with his thrusts.

Is that bump his cock?!

It is unbelievable that your body can even stretch that much to accommodate him. Your eyes follow in time with his thrusts, and though he starts slowly he builds up momentum steadily. When he glances down at where your union begins, he’s satisfied to see a sheen that can only be your wetness. He’s convinced your body wants his as desperately as he wants yours.

“Is this enjoyable?” He asks you, sweat forming at his temples.

You gasp when the head of his cock glides against your engorged clit once again. With the numbness, you cannot feel it, but he certainly can feel how you tighten around his cock in response. He groans.

“Yuutaaa,” you whine, the first time you’ve ever called him by name. He’s elated.

The base of his cock begins to swell.

You screw your eyes shut as he picks up speed, deep breaths and thick, pained grunts erupt from his throat. He sounds different, suddenly, and when you look down you realize why—his cock grows thicker, bumps that you presume are eggs pushing past your entrance.

“Wait—wait—” you beg, arms pushing desperately at the tail that weighs them down.

“I will give my eggs to you,” he tells you between ragged breaths. “This may hurt…”

The word hurt is a blatant misrepresentation of what happens next. His tongue had done a fantastic job of numbing your pussy for him, but it does nothing for your cervix. Yuuta grabs at your hips roughly, and pushes himself into you as deep as he will go. The base of his upper cock pressed hard against your clit, and you quite quickly orgasm all over his cock, squeezing quite tightly. And though you feel nothing but fullness around his cock inside you, your orgasm spurs on his own, his upper cock leaking onto your navel. His lower cock pushes against your cervix, and with pain so sharp it makes you cry out, multiple eggs push through into your womb. You lose count of how many, Yuuta biting at your shoulder, your neck, your jaw—anywhere and everywhere to distract you as he deposits into your womb. You’re not sure how long it goes on for, but when he pulls out, your body feels both full and weak, reeling from waves of pain both in your cervix and everywhere he’s bitten;

Yet, he is not finished.

He removes the lower cock and replaces it with the thinner upper one. You make no protest this time, letting him rut into your used cunt. He’s mumbling something against your throat, but with your body numbed and tired, you pay little attention to it.

Overstimulation takes hold as he continues to fuck you long after you’ve already come all over his cock. He bites onto your breast, fangs and all, leaving puncture wounds with every bite from your shoulder to your nipple.

How pretty you look under him, he thinks. He even hopes he’ll get another chance to do this with you, hopelessly infatuated with this little human he’d met only a week ago.

You helplessly spread your legs as wide as you can when he finishes inside you, coating your insides in his spend and inevitably fertilizing the eggs he’d placed inside you. And just like a snake would in the wild, his cock anchors itself inside you, twitching with the last bits of spend and keeping you locked onto his cock, not wasting even a drop. A weak, defeated moan leaves your lips as his cock stretches inside you once again, plugging you full.

“Yuuta…” you call for him weakly. His tail coils around you affectionately, his arms pulling your chest closer to his.

“You did so well… thank you,” he coos to your weary, sweaty body. “I’m glad I saved you.”

You vaguely wonder: if this is what being “saved” is, would being forsaken have been the better option?

So tired from the ordeal, you quickly succumb to sleep, not knowing the answer.

#yuuta okkotsu #jjk

[smfics]

was horny, had to get this out somewhere. wc: 1.7k. afab gn reader x yuuta, pegging. reader squirts. Divider by cafekitsune

There's something specific about a strapless strap-on that drives Yuuta insane.

You didn't really notice until the second time you had him laying on his back, knees clinging to your sides, and head turned away from you, his face pathetically buried in his pillow with only the red tip of his left ear and the reddened splotches on his neck bared to you. The first time you ever fucked him lasted a good whole three minutes before he was a mess of sweat and cum, but this second time at least he had enough restraint to last a little longer.

But paired with his newfound vigor for lasting longer than the length of a pop song was the fact that this time you could whole-heartedly study him. No longer was he on his knees and elbows, eyes screwed shut and body trembling like a wet dog in the breeze as you pushed yourself into his virgin hole; Instead, this time, you got to watch his reactions: a first-class ticket to the many faces you didn't think your boyfriend could possibly make.

The first was one of surprise: impossibly blue eyes widened and kiss-bitten, sore lips parted as you shimmied up the bed, your five-inch fuscia-colored silicone penis jutted out in his direction like an ominous warning. It's not that he was afraid (because, holy shit, that first time you touched his prostate was the first time he swore he saw God), but perhaps the vulnerability of the whole thing made his skeleton want to push its way out from under his flesh.

What if he came too quickly again? How embarrassing would that be.

And though he never subscribed to the ultra-masculine, rigid gender roles thought to be imposed upon most heterosexual relationships (I mean, you're fucking him in the ass for crying out loud), there was still some unconditioning that was happening in his mind; it was taking a bit of getting used to, to tell himself that it's okay to want this. While most porn in the vein of being penetrated had way too much aggression and leather for his taste, something about seeing you in this position, and the intimacy of being the one penetrated... well, the thought had him rock hard, frankly. He wanted it so badly he'd sit there spreading his legs for you any day of the week.

Which brought him then to his second set of endearing expressions. As your hips touched the back of his thighs, you produced a cute little remote, the color of which was matching with the strap-on. During your first time, you were easier on him--you'd used a more traditional strap-on, a silicone dildo placed into a harness which wrapped around your pelvis. It was simple, flesh-colored and barren of any fancy vibrational modes (pulsation? really?). So when you'd lightly tossed the remote with little warning, and giggled in an endearing way as he scrambled to catch it in his palms, you smiled at his expression of confusion.

"You can make it vibrate," you'd told him as you squeezed lube onto your fingertips.

"For me?" He blinked, voice too innocent for a guy who'd just had three of your fingers knuckle-deep in his ass.

"Either one of us."

He gasped a little bit at that, as if the possibility of making yours vibrate had never even occurred to him. His eyes followed, up and down, as you pumped the silicone shaft with a closed lubricated fist, not unlike what someone would do with an actual penis. Your level of command over yourself was intimidating, though he wouldn't tell you that.

As you grabbed the back of his thighs and adjusted your positions, Yuuta could barely even look at the remote, too entranced by the sight of you. With no straps hugging your sides, if it weren't for the pink color of the silicone, it'd almost feel real... something about that made the back of his neck sweat.

"Ready for me?"

He nodded twice before his expression of confusion, innocence, morphed into one of absolute desperation. And you hadn't even pushed in more than the tip.

"hah," he panted as you rocked your hips into him. You gave him an inch, and tugged it away, like the rise and ebb of ocean waves. "m-more,"

"Yuu-"

With eyes trained on your pelvis, mind swimming with thoughts about how much closer he felt to you without straps in the way, he'd reached out for your forearms, mumbling some pathetic verbiage that barely could count as a whimper. All you could make out was "closer" before the overachiever lifted his hips just slightly off the mattress. You'd notice his lust as you prepped him but his eyes took on a ravenous quality as he took in the image of you, silicone cock and no straps to be seen, fucking into him so confidently.

"okay, okay," you cooed as you leaned down, thighs pushing his own back until he had folded himself up. Leaning down, a new expression of his emerged: lids half-closed, pupils so watery and warbling you'd think he were crying. He outright begged to kiss you, as the last of the silicone cock was pushed into him by your merciful thrusts. How sweet you were, kissing and swallowing at every moan as his strong, toned arms wrapped around your shoulders, begging for more skin-to-skin.

Had he forgotten the remote entirely? You wondered.

When you were finally inside him, fully to the hilt of your strap, you felt the ridges of its base against your clit, and Yuuta outright shivered at the deep moan that left your lips. It was at that moment that he remembered the remote, the second button on it dedicated to the clitoral stimulator. Would you like that? He'd do anything you liked.

So as you pinned down his knees, lifting away just enough to get into a comfortable thrusting position, Yuuta found the remote that he had so carelessly discarded just on the pillow beside his face. A smearing of blush, just the faintest hint of pink, settled across his cheekbones as he watched you pull out and push back into him; from this angle, he couldn't even see the strap. It fooled him into this sense that he was being impaled on your cock.

Fuck, he already needed to cum at the thought.

He slammed one of the buttons without looking at which one, his face turned away to hide his weakening resolve. He thought he had pressed the button to stimulate your clit, or perhaps even the bulb inside of you; but to your chagrin, he had pressed the vibrating mode of the cock that was currently five inches deep inside of him.

"Ah!" he immediately yelped, having never felt a sensation like that before. The reddening of his skin worsened as you giggled at his helplessness, splotches of affection blooming from his jawline to his sternum. A particularly pointed thrust from you did nothing to help the matter.

"Yuuta, baby," you gave his knee a pinch, to which he turned just enough away from the pillow for it to count as a reply. "Want me to stop?"

"No!" he quipped, embarrassingly quickly and just as embarrassingly loud. "N-no, please,"

"You're so cute."

He retaliated with a press of another button. This one, the vibrator inside of you. Your hips stuttered, a labored breath leaving your lips as you paused your movements. With both ends of the strap-on vibrating inside of you both, suddenly Yuuta was so grateful you'd switched from the previous, simple strap. What an incredible feat of technology, he thought for a moment, watching how endearingly you gritted your teeth, attempting to keep your composure.

Perhaps Yuuta's next expression, one that looked to you as if he'd discovered teasing for the very first time, made your stomach flip on its side. Yuuta pressed the button once more, upping your vibrator. He could be a little cheeky when he wanted to be.

"The clit one," your voice, strained, asked him as you slammed into his backside. Each thrust into him had the ridged side of the strap nudging against your swollen, neglected clit. It was you, begging for relief, that spurred him to press the button.

"Oh, fuck,"

what a lovely sound to hear. Yuuta, with cock twitching against his navel, shut his eyes and babbled pleas into the space between your bodies. He pressed buttons on the remote at random, upping the intensity of each piece of the strap until he wriggled against the sheets, body convulsing with the need to cum. Vaguely he could hear you coming apart, a low, sexy moan rolling off your tongue as your grip on the back of his thighs turned painful. He didn't care; fuck he didn't care at all when he was seconds away from coming all over your dick.

Which he did, with an unceremonious sound that perhaps resembled an animal dying. You didn't remember it, fucking yourself on the base of the strap to chase your own high, which had been building slowly pre-clit vibrator. Smashing your hips against that thing felt so good that, as you watched the last drops of Yuuta's cum lodge themselves between the dark, incredibly sexy hairs of his happy trail, you gave yourself one of the strongest orgasms you'd ever felt in your life, juices squirting all over the silicone like it had been you who ejaculated all over it and not him. Or perhaps it was both of you--Yuuta loved to think so.

"PleaseturnthatthingoffYuuta," you begged, overstimulation taking hold as your body plopped down on top of his own. He fumbled with the remote for what felt like forever, though it was probably a few seconds. But in the world of overstimulation the few seconds had you whimpering and begging against his chest, clawing like a wounded animal; which, perhaps if he had not just emptied the entire contents of his ballsack all over himself, would have spurred on a different version of that night's events.

But that, he would leave for another night.

With a relieved, blissful look he kissed the crown of your head, all vibrational modes off and a delightful mix of fluids rubbed between the two of you. Of all the looks he gave you, you think that satisfied smile served him best.

#yuuta okkotsu #jjk

[smfics]

for whoever wants to get notifs / see posts for writing only 👍🏽