#but i'm so tired of staring at this painting that i'm not fixing it tbh

[dovenart]

Who else misses this beautiful man?

[babyboyxiao]

hi! could you do an aged up yatora yaguchi smut? i don’t have anything else specifically just stay true to his character. this is my first time requesting so sorry if i’m doing anything wrong!

thanks!!!

Yellow is the Colour of His Eyes | Yaguchi Yatora x Reader

AN: thank you so much for the request, i'm sorry this took so long! you're absolutely perfect and i'm so excited for my first Blue Period request! i really tried hard to write him in character but idek anymore, it's been a fat while since i last read bp tbh, and idek what that ending was i got hella tired at the end of writing this but i just hope you enjoy it,, i ended up really leaning into the idea of the reader being a fellow student so there's actually quite a bit of plot so i hope that's okay too,, i was also listening to soccer mommy's song of the same-ish name technically it's "her eyes" while writing this and, while the lyrics don't quite line up, i'd recommend listening to it while reading this bc idk it just fits for me :)

Summary: during a rough night pouring yourself into your final assignment of your second year at Geidai, Yatora finds you decrepit in your studio area. the weight of the mistakes in your work weighs heavy on your shoulders and you find yourself unable to hold back your feelings any longer.

CW: smut, nsfw (minors dni!), friends to lovers, angst with a bit of fluff, unprotected sex, gn! reader

As the end of the semester drew near, you found yourself gradually spending more and more time holed up in your studio working on your final assignment. Your hands stained with ink, paint caked underneath your chipped fingernails, and your eyes swelled with a lackluster enthusiasm as you stared at the canvas before you. It was completed, ready for submission and you were elated that you could finally call it a night... but then you spotted it, a dark smudge on the right edge of the canvas. No doubt it was made by your grimy hands as you'd absent-mindedly gripped the canvas while painting. It wasn't just there either, suddenly every imperfection stood out like a sore thumb and you groaned, tears threatening to spill over as you buried your face into your hands. You just sat there, shoulders slumped as you prepared yourself for another couple of hours of fixing all those blemishes. A gentle knock echoed from the door, platinum blonde wisps of hair peeking out between the frame and the door.

"Thought I'd find you here," Yatora huffed, "I've been calling you, y'know?" You didn't dare look at him, you didn't want one of your closest friends to see you in such a state.

"Oh, sorry... my phone's in my bag." You dejectedly reply. You heard the rustle of a plastic bag, then some rattling, and his footsteps drawing near. You furrowed your brows, you really weren't in the mood for this.

"It looks amazing, just a couple more touches here and there and you're almost done. I got you a couple of things to keep you going-" Yatora's rambling was cut short by the shrill screech of your stool. Keeping your head down, you marched over to him and began dragging him back towards the door.

"Yeah, thanks, really. Can you please leave now?" Your voice shook with every word, your fingers trembling as they gripped his biceps and legs wobbling with every step. The tremors in your voice sparking concern, Yatora spun around and clutched your shoulder, peering down to get a look at your face.

"Fuck, you don't look so good. Just- let's get some air, okay? I brought some snacks, you look like you're about to keel over." Yatora huffs, bringing an arm around your shoulder to lead your tired figure outside. You can't it back any longer, your frustration and exhaustion boiling over. You push his arm away, stumbling back towards your canvas. You know you're being dramatic but you can't waste any more time, and you know that if you went with him, you wouldn't want to leave.

"I can't! I have to finish this and, unlike you, I just- I can't work like you do! Constantly working, improving, like you know what you need to get better at a-and you just do it! It's like time doesn't slip away from you like it does for me, I just-" and then it hits you. You're knees crash into the vinyl beneath you, the air is abrasive in your lungs, probably from all the turpentine fumes, the dry skin of your hands absorbing your tears as they fall. The boy is stunned, his feet rigid but, in his stupor, he manages to walk towards you. Squatting beside you, he hesitantly places a hand on your head, ruffling your disheveled hair.

"Is that how you think of me?" he sighs, your outburst simultaneously empowered him yet pierced him. On one hand, the fact that someone like you saw how much he was improving made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, even if it was via some eruption of bitter emotions, and it wasn't like you never praised him, quite the opposite. However, there was something different about how you had said it, that was what was nagging at him; the fact that you seemed to put him on a pedestal like some prodigy when, for him, he was the one lagging behind.

"You're just so onto it," you sobbed, "half the time, I'm just fucking around, but you're constantly growing and doing something. And then shit like this happens and it's last minute and I'm falling over myself trying to finish." Yatora just snorts in response; he recalls all the times you spent sketching out ideas for all kinds of projects, when you'd meet up with him with some new idea just to abandon it an hour later when something new catches your eye. Sure, maybe he had a more consistent work ethic but that gleam in your eye and the hyper-intense passion that you and everyone else got with art was something that didn't really come naturally to him. But that wasn't really it, was it? You both were just seeing each other in those moments, only noticing the shadow the other person cast over you. He brings his hand down to pull you into an embrace, plopping his chin where his hand previously was.

"You know that's all bullshit, right?" Yatora huffs, burying his face into your hair, "you all are way ahead of me, I'm the one who's catching up. Fuck, I still don't know if I even get art yet. I only started a couple years ago now, but you've all been doing this for way longer than I have, you have it all down now but I've only just gotten the hang of it, to be honest." You're shaking in his arms, and you know he's right. All of his improvements were the same as yours however many years ago, but seeing his growth as an artist compared to your stagnation made you forget all that. Of course, how could you have been so blind?

"Fuck," you choke out, "you're right, I'm sorry." You pull away from him, his hand falling limply from your shoulder to your knee, rubbing small circles into your skin. "I didn't mean to say all that, I-I know you're working hard just to pass, we-we all are... I let the stress get to me, I'm really sorry, Yatora." You laugh, rubbing the tears from your eyes as you try to collect yourself, the embarrassment from your little outburst beginning to sink in.

"It's fine, besides, I kinda like the smudges..." he chuckles, his hand reaching around to rub the back of his neck. At this moment, a slight blush begins to creep onto his cheeks, realizing just how intimate the scene had been. You glance up at him, eyes wide and puffy, and he feels all the air leave his chest. He drops his head to avoid eye contact, his hands bashfully trying to hide his blush but you knew better than to let the moment end. Out of curiosity, you slink up to remove his hands from his face, and he loses balance, falling back onto the vinyl. You hover over him for a moment, taking in his flushed appearance before giggling. It wasn't exactly rare to see Yatora like this but, after such an emotionally charged moment, it was exactly what you needed to feel better.

"You know, Yatora, I think I could get used to a view like this." You giggle as he rises, his hand running through his hair as he propels himself forward to sit up properly. He mutters for you to shut up but the smile on his face speaks otherwise. Slowly, Yatora brings a finger up to stroke your cheek, collecting some stray tears. There's a fondness in his eyes that you can't help but shuffle closer to get a better look at. "Thank you Yatora, for checking up on me and dealing with... well, that."

"Don't worry about it..." He trails off, leaning towards you, his single finger turning into a hand cupping your cheek. Planting a hand on each of his sides, you rise up to meet his lips in a small kiss. Your heart is beating a million kilometers an hour, the cool vinyl the only thing keeping you grounded in the heat of the moment. His lips are soft if not a little dry, the faint taste of tobacco offset by whatever he'd been snacking on earlier but you didn't mind. You reached around to tangle your fingers in his hair, while his hands settled on your waist, dipping under your shirt to rub at your skin. You settled on his lap, gasping as he began to trail kisses from your lips to your jaw and down your neck. You thanked every deity that the studio was empty tonight, no one around to witness you grinding against his clothed erection. You didn't want Yatora's ministrations on your body to cease even for a second but, as you desperately began to claw at his shirt, he pulled away for a moment. His face flushed and chest heaving, he asked, "Here? Now?"

"You said I needed a break, right?"

"I said you needed air."

"Same difference." You shrugged, reattaching your lips to his. Despite his complaints, one hand continued to snake up your back while another plunged beneath the waistline of your pants. Meanwhile, yours trailed down his chest to the hem of his shirt, following his movements as you sucked on the skin of his neck. You both paused, desperately removing your bottoms to cut straight to where you needed each other most. His fingers descended right to your heat, clumsily rubbing and prodding at your entrance but, at this point, any stimulation was enough. You let out a small whine, hastily reaching for his cock and rubbing it against your hole.

"W-wait, don't we need a condo-" Yatora's plea was cut off when you sunk down onto his length, a groan was ripped from his lungs before you silenced him with another kiss. Your tongues danced in rhythm with your hips, nimbly rocking back and forth in his lap while the tip of his cock hit your most sensitive spot. Pulling back for air, Yatora immediately reattached his lips to your neck, continuing where he left off by sucking dark purple marks on your collarbone. Your nails dug into his scalp as you bounced up and down in his lap, the muscles in your legs taut and you didn't know how much longer you could keep up the pace you had set for yourself. Sensing your exhaustion, Yatora leaned back, pulling you down with him as he began to thrust upward into you. With your arms planted on either side of his head for support, you pressed your forehead against his, the knot in your core tightening with every lunge of his hips.

"Yatora~" you whimpered, your body overcome by pleasure. Yatora rolled over, capturing you beneath him as he continued to thrust into you. His hands came up to cradle your head while you pulled him down to your lips, drowning yourselves in another lustful kiss. As your ears were assaulted by the wild slapping of skin, you became hyper-aware of your lewd conduct in the middle of the studio. If anyone were to walk in at any moment... The thought alone was enough to send you over the edge, your legs binding themselves around his waist as your back curved up off the floor. As your insides clenched around his cock, Yatora couldn't help but also come undone inside you, the orgasm enough to cloud his better judgment of pulling out. You both remained in that position for a while, the remainder of your clothes clinging to your bodies, your bodies aching and begging for respite. Yatora's senses returned first, panic setting in as he pulled out.

"I- uh... Y/N?" Yatora whispered, you merely hummed in response, still dazed from your intense orgasm. Yatora sighed, pulling you up to settle in his lap, your hands resting on his biceps and head nestling into the crook of his neck. He pulled at one of your hands, holding it delicately in his own, fiddling with your fingers, and examining the blue and yellow stains across your hand. He looked at your painting, and then back at you before smiling. "You're fucking beautiful"

A giggle bubbled out of you, "so are you."

"But seriously, you need air and food, all the paint and turpentine fumes are probably fucking with your head."

© 2022 All rights reserved — do not modify, translate, repost or claim any of my work.