#yuuta okkotsu x [name] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heyimkana · 9 days ago

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Pairing: Yuuta Okkotsu x Female Reader

Word Count: 5K (I feel like I should apologize but if you’ve seen my other works, this is considered super short I’m being fr rn)

Summary: Yuuta is your new neighbor, and everyone loves him because of his sweet and kind personality. He has a crush on you, but you’re a married woman, so you can’t reciprocate his feelings the same way. But when your husband starts cheating on you, you can’t help but turn to him for comfort.

Content Warnings: alcohol, swearing, adultery/cheating, age gap (Yuuta is in his early twenties, reader is almost in her thirties), unprotected sex, also Yuuta going down the yandere route at the end I'm not playing so if it's not your cup of tea don't read

A/N: wrote this in one sitting after aleks @yuutito said something about yuuta and older woman that rewired my brain (how dare she went to sleep after casually telling me this like I wasn't going to just just sit there thinking about *redacted*-ing this ver of him in 124352 different positions). i was supposed to be watching my kids playing in my backyard but i wrote this instead. pls don't call child support. this is also supposed to be a drabble 🤡 🔫 i was going to send it to her on discord but a few people were asking if i was dead (girl, only on the inside lol) cause i haven't posted in a while so hi everyone guess who came back from the war (i'll go through my inbox asap i promise ily)

P.S: don't use your brain when you read this cause i certainly didn't use mine when i wrote this only my dick

Yuuta Okkotsu is your new neighbor.

He lives across the street, and you’re not close to him, not yet. He’s younger than you, much younger than you—a fresh graduate from a reputable university who’s lucky enough to be able to work from home. He doesn’t go out much, but he’s friendly, always leaving good impressions around the neighborhood. Everyone knows Yuuta. Everyone loves Yuuta.

The first time you asked about him, purely out of curiosity, was when you greeted your neighbor next door, an older woman living alone ever since her late husband passed. She just got home from, what you assumed, another trip to the clinic. You saw him stepping down from her porch after making sure she was okay and bidding her with a polite bow. You traded smiles with him, but he didn’t stop for a conversation. You just saw his face turn scarlet at the sight of you, and he dropped a quick “Hello” before he bolted.

“Who was that?” you asked.

“Oh, he’s our sweet neighbor Yuuta.”

“Sweet neighbor Yuuta,” you laughed a little. “He just moved here like three days ago, and everyone calls him that.”

“Because it’s true!”

“Uh-huh, and what did he do that was so sweet to you?”

“He’s helped me with my chores—washing the dishes, bathing my cat, mowing my backyard. He saw me having trouble crossing the street yesterday, so he offered to take me to the clinic today. Such a sweet boy, that man. Very handsome, too.”

That last part you could agree with. Instantly.

You see Yuuta occasionally, always by coincidence, like maybe in the morning when you leave the house to put out your trash or grab a newspaper. He always seems like he’s eager to strike up a conversation but gives up before he can, simply because his heart can’t take it. You know he has a crush on you; it’s clear as day. He’s young, and he’s in love. It’s cute. But you’re married and committed, so that’s that.

You meet him more frequently when he starts going to the same local supermarket. You bumped into him in one of the aisles, with him approaching you first because he saw you struggling to get that ketchup bottle on the top shelf. He’s so polite, and he’s, indeed, very sweet, especially to the elderly, always taking his time to humor them when nobody else seems to pay them any attention. He grabbed the bottle for you, and you ended up chatting with him while waiting in line. He offered to help carry your groceries, and you were thankful because you weren’t sure you could bring everything alone. He walked you to your car, bade you good night, and told you to take care.

He’s your sweet neighbor Yuuta.

Things haven’t been going well with your husband. It’s fight after fight after fight. At first, your relationship became so strained because you couldn’t conceive even after two years of marriage. The truth is, you don’t want to have a baby, not too soon, not when you still want to focus on living your life, but he wants it terribly, and if you want your marriage to work out, there’s no other choice but to try. You’re somehow glad that the universe seemed to work in your favor, at least for now.

You’re unsure if it’s your fault or his—you don’t have the money or time to get yourself tested. Nevertheless, he kept trying, turning your sex life into a string of dull experiments, one after another. It didn’t come as a surprise that after a while, he gave up. What did come as a surprise was when he started cheating.

You have reasons to back your assumptions from all the evidence you’ve found along the way. The lipstick stain on his shirt, the hint of female perfume in his car, the way he never left his phone out of reach, terrified of you looking into it. It’s enough.

It’s Friday night. Your husband won’t be home until late. Still got a bunch of stuff to do at work, he said, which is another way of saying, I got my secretary sucking my dick since you barely even bother anymore. Which is true.

You’re tired of him. You’re tired of having sex with him where he only cares about him cumming inside you and nothing more. You’re so tired of fighting. And now that he's cheating on you, you grow too tired to care. About him. About your marriage. About everything.

So, you head down to a bar one night just to distract yourself. And there he is again. Yuuta. Sitting by himself, watching a football game on the big screen with a beer bottle in hand. He looks rather… lonely, a new face that makes your heart twitch a bit. His solemn look makes him more gorgeous in a way, more mature, more mysterious, and girls love that, don’t they? A slightly dangerous aura to a very sweet face, unapproachable yet inviting.

But that doesn’t last too long because the moment he sees you, his face brightens entirely. He smiles, standing up from his seat to greet you, and you meet him halfway. You end up chatting all night. He’s a fantastic listener, and he’s so kind and thoughtful with each word, comforting you the way you need the most. It’s embarrassing that you nag about your husband like this, but he seems genuinely interested in helping you convey your emotions, and you just can’t stop. It feels so liberating.

Yuuta buys you your favorite drink but also reminds you not to get too much alcohol in your system. You begin to trust him, knowing for certain he won’t take any advantage of you. He walks you home right after. It’s true that he lives right across your house, but he makes sure you get inside safely. He leaves only after he sees you close and lock the door behind you. You spy on him from the window, wanting to see what he does after you’re gone. You see him rubbing a hand over his face, flushed from ears to neck, looking extremely happy that he got to spend time with you.

He’s so cute, you think to yourself. Like a high school lovesick boy, kind of cute.

Yuuta then notices your husband’s missing car, meaning that you’re alone in the house. He looks sad on your behalf, which is so kind of him to think about your feelings that much. Then he turns upset, as if he was thinking, how dare he stay out so late, leaving her without protection like this. Looking visibly worried, he then texts you, “Let me know if you need anything, okay? My door is open for you anytime.” You smile and promptly reply to him with, “That’s so kind of you, thank you.”

He’s your sweet neighbor Yuuta.

These friendly sorts of private meetings between you and him go on for a while. Your husband often arrives late, usually drunk out of his mind or too tired to stay for a chat, and he heads straight to bed without even giving you a goodnight kiss. It hurts, but it’s fine. The more your husband breaks your heart, the harder Yuuta will try to mend it and make it whole again. And he did. Every night, when you’re lucky enough to see him, you’ll feel like a heavy weight is lifted from your chest. You feel… happy, even in this terrible situation, and it’s all because of him.

You usually hang out with him at the bar, but sometimes you don’t feel like going for a ten-minute drive, and you choose to just cross the road and knock your fist against his door. No matter what hour you visit, day or night, for a morning latte or evening tea, he always greets you with the prettiest smile.

He’s your sweet neighbor Yuuta.

Weeks passed by, and now you spend most of your free time chatting with him, sitting on the couch in his living room, and talking about yourself more than you ever did with your husband. He likes listening to you talk about yourself, and he tells you that you shine so brightly when you talk about the things you’re passionate about. He always stammers out his praises, looking like he’s seconds away from combusting into flames just from calling you beautiful or something. He’s so young, so inexperienced yet passionate when it comes to love and romance, and it shows.

You ask questions about himself, too, and you can understand why it’s addicting for him to watch you speak, because the second he does that, he’s breathtaking.

You find out that he likes the things you like, he’s watched the movies you’ve seen, and he’s read your favorite books. It’s not just a coincidence, is it? Maybe you’re a match made in heaven. But even so, nothing happens. He’s too respectful, and he makes you respect yourself. You’re married, and he’s a close friend of yours. That’s it.

He’s just your sweet neighbor Yuuta.

One morning, you find a bouquet sitting on your porch. Oh, right, today’s our anniversary. Your husband has this habit of sending you your favorite flowers on your anniversary. He does this every year, which is nice of him, but you really didn’t think he’d send you one this year, seeing how he barely exchanged more than three sentences with you. So now that you receive his flowers, you’re beginning to think, oh, maybe he’s trying to fix things between us. You’re not sure if you want that, though, not anymore. Most of your heart already belongs to someone else, which is terrible since you’re married, but you can’t help it.

You pick up the flowers anyway; too pretty to be thrown away. You open the card attached to it. I will love you forever, it says, written in his handwriting. The way he wrote the letter f is a little different. Looks like he wrote in a rush, you presume. Either that, or he just didn't care enough. And it’s whatever; you didn’t expect much anyway. You appreciate the thought until your eyes land on the name he wrote.

That’s not my fucking name.

He must have sent flowers to his secretary at the same time and had his card switched. That fucking cheater.

You thought you didn’t care about him anymore, but God, now you’re livid.

Yuuta shows up at the perfect place and at the perfect time. He invites you over to have dinner together at his place. “J-just, you know, as friends,” he says, unconsciously giving you the confirmation that he does not think of you as a friend. Not at all.

So you come over in a beautiful red dress later that evening, and he stares at you, completely in awe, for a good three seconds. “You, umm—” He blushes madly, his head so full of steam he could barely think. “You look like… like a goddess.”

“Thank you,” you simper. That was so corny for him to say, but he meant every word, which makes it endearing. “You look amazing, too.” And he is. God, he looks so handsome in his black buttoned-down shirt, and his parted hair, and his sweet, sweet smile.

I want to fuck the shit out of him.

It’s the monster inside you who speaks it. The part of you that’s been neglected for so long, that’s never been touched in the way you wanted to. And it’s screaming, begging for Yuuta to love you.

But no. We’re friends. We’re just friends, aren’t we, Yuuta?

Yuuta cooks, too, apparently. Every dish looks fucking delicious, and everything else is perfect. The table setting decorated with your favorite flowers. The scented candles with your favorite fragrance set up romantically on top of the cozy fireplace. The soft music playing in the background, a piano instrumental of your favorite song. It’s like a date. A celebration. Like something you should’ve had with your husband today.

“You did all of this on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Hmm?”

You gesture to your surroundings. “We’ve read the same books and watched the same movies. Okay, fine, maybe we have the same taste. But this song, those flowers, everything you’ve set up in this room, you did all of these for me, didn’t you?”

He pauses before he tucks his chin, avoiding your gaze. “I just… wanted to make you happy,” he confesses bashfully. “Is it… Is it too much? Do you not like it?”

“Yuuta, of course, I love it.” You stroke his arm, washing his worry away. “I just… I’ve never had someone care about me this much before…”

He melts under your touch, and there’s so much he wants to say, but his lips form nothing but a sad smile. He caresses your face with tender hand, his fingertips quivering slightly when they land on your cheek. His heart must be beating like crazy right now, you smile to yourself, leaning further into his touch to soothe him.

“I would do this every day for you if you let me,” he whispers, promise behind each word. “I would make you happy, so happy you’d forget what sadness feels like. What loneliness feels like.”

That stirs something inside your chest. “And what do you want in return for that?” You slide up a hand, testing his limit.

He stops your hand by covering it with his own. For a second, just for a brief second, he emits a different feeling. There’s intensity behind his gaze that burns you as if he wanted you all to himself. And that’s understandable. No man, especially one who’s so desperately in love like him, would want to share his woman with someone else, but he knows the situation they’re in, doesn’t he? It’s just not possible for you to be together, not now, not completely. Maybe that’s why he switches back in a blink, smiling until his eyes crinkle adorably. “Nothing,” he answers. “As long as we can be friends like this, it’s more than enough for me.”

He’s a terrible liar, you think, slightly amused. It’s cute how he tries so hard to conceal his feelings and you still can read him like an open book.

The food tastes as amazing as it looks, even down to the last bite. You don’t talk about the bouquet, afraid that you’ll ruin the mood, but Yuuta is always so attentive when it comes to you. He asks you what happened, and he hugs you the second he sees tears brimming in your eyes. You’re not sad. You’re fucking angry. And thank God Yuuta is there to let you vent your frustrations. You go as far as telling him almost every little shitty thing your husband did to you behind your back, as well as the slutty secretary that’s been sleeping with him for money. It feels relieving to finally say their names out loud, with so much hatred, so much rage, and to have Yuuta respond with, “No matter how pretty she is, she’s nothing compared to you. Your husband doesn’t deserve you. If I were him, I would’ve—” he stops himself, just in time, flustered and mortified under your gaze.

You’re older. You’re older than him by eight, no, nine years even. You know what’s going to happen if you encourage him to say the words he’s been dying to say. You know what it’s going to do to your relationship. But fuck that. If there were one man in this world who knew how to treat you like you deserve…

It’s your sweet neighbor Yuuta.

So, by the time the two of you move to the couch with some wine in your system, you lean forward, letting your fingers trace the protruding vein on the back of his hand. His eyes widen at the way your dress does very little to hide your cleavage, but he averts his gaze right away, being the gentleman that he is. But tonight, you want him to be the opposite of that. You don’t want him to be sweet; you want him to let his desire win. There’s a monster hiding inside him, something much more terrible than your own. You sometimes caught its glimpse when he thought you weren’t looking his way. The amount of obsession that fogged his eyes, his fixation over you, turning his sapphire blue eyes so dark, so deep, so intense, like he wanted to have you locked up in his room, tied up and used and thoroughly fucked until you found no strength to stand and no will to escape. It should’ve been a scary thought, but it wasn’t. It was… exciting.

“I want to hear it, Yuu…” Seduction lays thickly in your voice as you lay a gentle hand on his cheek, guiding his eyes back to you. You stare up at him from underneath your lashes with this look in your eyes that makes his breath hitch in his throat. “If you were my husband…” You wet your lip, your tongue a sinful dance to his eyes. “What would you do to make me feel…” You purposely drop your gaze to his lips, letting him catch your message. “…loved?”

You watch him gulp, goosebumps breaking on his skin. You watch his eyes fall to see the way you rub your thumb over the bumps on his knuckles. You watch them turn half-lidded as they linger a second too long on your lips. And you watch him break all control he has over himself, and you let him devour you the way you’ve been wanting him to.

He’s your sweet neighbor Yuuta.

And he tastes even sweeter with your cum on his tongue.

It’s happening too fast, yet it feels like it’s not going fast enough. He starts by holding you by the face, slotting his lips against yours, passionate and gentle at the same time. He pulls away for a moment to see your reaction, and when you kiss him back, he lets out this sinful moan that causes your stomach to churn.

He’s so fucking sexy. Even without trying, he is.

In the next second, he’s eating you out on the couch, spreading your legs, and kneeling on the floor with his head trapped between your thighs, wanting to get as much of you as you can give him. When his tongue circles your clit, and he’s moaning against your heat, it feels so good you almost run away, not used to experiencing this much pleasure. It’s scary how easily he plays with your body. How fast he can tell which part of yours likes to be licked, which ones want to be sucked, and which ones want to be fucked. He moves agonizingly slow, but each touch feels so right that you find no reason to complain. He’s sure to take his time with you, to make you feel loved in the way a wife should be when her husband makes love to her.

He takes hold of your thighs, holding you tight, but you want it even tighter to the point of leaving bruises all over your skin so you can show them to your husband later. His gaze is intense, constantly keeping his eyes on you. Your expression turns him on, making him ache so bad within the constraints of his pants that his eyes turn watery, desperate for release. He’s too ashamed to ask you to touch him, and maybe he doesn’t want to be touched, not yet, he just wants to focus on pleasuring you for now. So he keeps sucking your clit into his mouth, and he slides one hand into his own jeans to grip his cock tightly. He fucks his fist as fast as he fucks your hole with his tongue, groaning, whining, whimpering against your cunt. He’s pathetic. You love it.

You push him down to the carpeted floor after you drench his mouth and chin with your juice, and you push his fingers, coated with his own cum, into your mouth. He curses once at the sight, and it’s so sexy when he does it. After all this time hearing him talk so softly, so innocently, hearing a low, “Fuck, you're making me lose my mind,” tumbling off his lips is such a fucking turn-on.

You tear yourself away from your dress before you rip open the buttons of his shirt, not caring if the two of you are in the middle of his living room, visible for anyone to see if they dare take a peek through the window. You wish the light in the room were brighter. It would’ve been a lovely show for your husband if he came home to see you riding another man’s cock, using Yuuta to your own satisfaction, and watching him make you cum the way he couldn’t.

Yuuta, oblivious to your thoughts, is gasping out your name, one arm hiding his beet-red face while his other one is gripping your thigh. “W-wait,” he flinches, his breathing tattered. “You’re going—too fast—”

You know you are, but it’s so good that you can’t stop. His cock rubs your walls so deliciously as if it was made solely for this purpose. You cum so fast, so hard, and he follows almost right away, unable to hold it even longer when he sees you looking like that when you cummed.

Your body is still trembling when he suddenly lifts you off his cock and guides you to his face. “Ride me again,” he says, begging. “Please, Angel, I want to taste you again.” And you do, sitting on his face and letting him lick, suck, and lap at everything that seeps out of you.

He’s staring at your swollen clit, licking his lips and seemingly dazed as he rubs his thumb softly over it. “I’m sorry I came inside you,” he says, genuinely feeling guilty about it despite you giving him permission to.

You shiver, still feeling so sensitive for receiving so much stimulation at once. “It’s okay. I can’t get pregnant anyway,” you laugh it off. “I haven’t gotten myself checked yet, but we’ve been trying for two years, and nothing has happened yet, so…”

His gaze darkens. “I see,” is the only thing he utters before he scoops you in his arms, carrying you to the bedroom. You’re surprised; you really thought that was it. Both of you came twice already in, like, fifteen minutes. That’s enough, isn’t it? But he’s still young, and he has a lot of energy that leaves him insatiable. If you let him, he’ll have you for the entire night.

It’s not a bad thing, not at all.

So you kneel in front of him on the bed, bite the corner of your lip to drive him even more insane, and stroke him slowly with your hand. “You still want to fuck me?”

“Yes,” he breathes out, the muscles in his abdomens tautening. “Yes, Ma’am, please…”

Ma’am? You almost laugh. How does he keep getting cuter and cuter?

“Okay.” You reward him with a little kiss on the head of his cock, robbing a soft whimper out of his mouth. Lying down on the bed, you spread your legs, sliding two fingers down your body to do the same to your cunt. “Come here and love me again, Yuu.”

He obliges in a split second. Yuuta has so much love to give, and he lets his mouth, his tongue, and his cock paint a perfect picture on your body.

Everything feels like heaven until he suddenly stops in the middle of thrusting his hips, earning himself an impatient whine. His blue eyes have lost their warm, pretty light. They’re as dark as the night, but lust and greed are the perfect colors for him. He sits on his knees, resting your ankles on his shoulders, breathing heavily.

“Yuuta?”

He’s not listening, too captivated by the way his tip slides in and out so easily. You’re so fucking wet for him; it’s embarrassing, but Yuuta would take a picture of you like this in a heartbeat, with your wedding ring still wrapped around your finger and his cock sheathed deep inside you, should you allow him to.

He splays his hand over your stomach, giving a little pressure to your womb. You squirm, suddenly feeling like you no longer have control over anything, over him, not like the way you did before. It’s frightening and thrilling at the same time. “Yuuta, what are you—” Your jaw turns slack at the sensation when he thrusts inside, just once, just to see how far it goes within your walls. He’s so hard and thick and throbbing that you could practically feel him poking from inside of your stomach. And perhaps he’s thinking the same thing, his eyes glistening when he feels a bulge forming under his palm. He swallows. He looks… hungry.

“You said you couldn’t get pregnant,” he says, running a tongue across his lower lip, his eyes still fixated on the way you’re taking him so well, all stretched out and tight around him. “You know what I think?” He pulls himself out completely, shivers in his breath. “I think you’re wrong.” He slams his hips forward so abruptly, and with so much force, you have one hand shooting past your head to keep a safe distance away from the headboard.

“Yuuta—” You gasp out, struggling to match his rhythm. “Wait—”

He only smiles a little, chuckles a little. He’s so far gone. He leans forward until you’re pressed chest to chest, folding you in half before he laces his fingers together with yours. “I think you can get pregnant.” He moves closer to your ear, whispering with his lips caressing your lobe, “And I’m going to show you how.”

He fucks the breaths out of you, swallowing each cry with his mouth, embracing you so tightly you can feel his heart beating against yours. “I’m sorry,” he pants, “It hurts, doesn’t it? I—” He’s interrupted with a low groan, feeling you clenching around him.“—really am sorry—” He smashes his lips against yours, smothering you with his kisses, too. “I know I’m being too rough, but I can't—” He has one hand gripping the top of his headboard, giving him more support to drive his hips even deeper. “I can’t—stop—” He fucks you again, and again, harder each time until you find yourself unable to make sounds. “You’re so good... You feel so good around me... My angel…” You’re being folded, handled, trapped, and he fucks you until you’re drained, until you’re filled, until he’s spent. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry... Just a little bit more..." He kisses your forehead and your cheek to soothe you down, cradling your head as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. His hips start to move erratically. “Don’t ever leave me… I will love you forever, so—ah, God—” He chokes out a sob when he feels you spasming around him again, reeling in another wave of orgasm that hit you so intensely, you see white.

It takes him a little over an hour until he finally lets you go. For now, at least.

But once he gives you a chance to breathe, he cleans you up so gently, dabbing a warm towel over your skin, peppering kisses as soft as butterfly wings down your back, your thighs, your chest, before ending his journey at your stomach. He rubs the supple flesh of your belly and smiles, completely satisfied after giving you his everything. And it scares you a little bit because… You might really end up getting pregnant this time.

“I have to go before he comes home,” you say, feeling your body ache terribly when you try to raise yourself off the bed. They’re not shown vividly yet, but there will be bruises in the morning in places you’re not sure you can cover.

Yuuta hugs you from the side when you barely have one foot on the floor, whispering against the bare skin of your hip, “I’m not letting you go.”

It makes you happy. You feel so wanted, so loved, even after all the affection he gave you all night. The truth is, you don’t want to leave. Ever. To walk into your own home after experiencing what heaven feels like… It would be torturous.

“I wish I could stay with you, too.”

“You do?” He looks up with big, round eyes, hope residing in each one of them. “Would you stay with me forever?”

“If I could,” you reply and it’s true. God, if only you could stay forever with him, let him love you this way, forever. That would be perfect, wouldn't it?

“That makes me happy…” He takes both of your hands, kissing you on each wrist before he does the same to your palms. “That makes me so happy…”

It tickles, so you laugh a little. He makes the same sweet sound, the sound of a boy in love.

“I really need to go, though…” You whisper, hypnotized when he starts pushing your digit past his lips. It’s warm and wet inside his mouth, waking up the butterflies in your stomach. He keeps his eyes on you, looking so sensual as he sucks around your finger, enveloping it from base to tip. “Yuuta…”

“I understand.” He pulls away, ending it with a kiss. He seems disheartened, his smile doesn't shine as bright anymore and it hurts you. "I guess you left me with no choice."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay." He returns your embrace, just one more time before you have to let him go. “Can you turn around for me, please? I want to give you something,” he softly smiles. “A present. It will be quick, I promise.”

You do as he says, excited at the thought of it. What will he give you? Knowing him and how he went through so much effort to prepare a dinner for two friends, you just know it would be something incredibly romantic. Yuuta kisses your nape, open-mouthed and lingering. You nibble on your lip to suppress your moan as he trails his lips from between your shoulder blades down to your spine.

“Yuuta,” you sigh, squeezing your thighs together. You’re aching for him again, and it’s dangerous. Your husband can come anytime soon. “I know what you want, and really, I wish I could stay,” you say from the bottom of your heart, looking over your shoulder to see him, and you’re immediately answered by a kiss. He presses his chest to your spine, one hand cupping half of your neck and your jaw to keep you in place so he can deepen the kiss. His mouth moves with fervor, filling you up with desire, and if it weren’t for the sound of your husband’s car moving into your driveway, you would’ve let him take you there for another hour or two.

“I need to leave. Now.” You break away to gather your clothes quickly. Except you can’t.

You can’t move your hands.

Robbed out of your balance, you fall face-first to the floor. Your breath catches, your heart plummeting to your stomach when you realize you have your hands tied behind your back. You feel something rough grazing against your skin. There’s a rope ensnaring your wrists together, and it’s digging painfully into your flesh every time you struggle to break free.

Panic rises quickly to your chest. You look up, your body froze with terror at the sight of him smiling at you.

He’s not your sweet neighbor Yuuta. Not anymore.

This is the monster you caught a glimpse of before, in full form. His handsome features suddenly feel unrecognizable, not when you can no longer witness the warmth in his eyes.

What is happening? You breathe fast, frightened beyond your mind. Why is he doing this?

“I told you I’m not letting you go,” he says, walking slowly toward you. With every step he takes, your urge to escape grows bigger.

The second the dread sinks in, you part your lips to scream for help, but he clasps a hand over your mouth just in time. “Sshh shhh shhh,” he whispers, bringing you back to your feet. “We wouldn’t want your husband to find out, would we?”

You try to kick and toss your body around, but he’s strong, much stronger than you could ever imagine him to be. From your peripheral vision, you see him taking out a syringe from a drawer behind him, fitted with a hollow needle to inject the clear liquid into your skin. You feel your heart pounding in your throat, your scream muffled as he sinks it into your skin. “There, there. Off you go, honey,” he whispers in your ear, as you begin to lose your will to fight. Your consciousness slowly wanes away with each second passing by. “I’m so sorry, Sweetheart. It’s only scary at the beginning, I promise.” He tosses the syringe away, now empty. “Oh, I almost forgot to ask. Did you like the card I gave you?”

The card? What card?

Oh.

Oh, no.

“I’m sorry for tricking you like that,” he says with a little pout. “Truly, I am. I didn’t want to lie to you, but I had to do something to push you over the edge. I knew you liked me too from the start, but you wouldn’t make the first move. You kept staying faithful even when your husband was cheating on you like that. I admire you for that,” he sighs, utterly smitten by you, but only for a second before his tone drops. “But I was getting impatient, you see. And I knew you were, too. I watched your favorite movies. I read your favorite books. I learned everything about you and did everything you liked, but you still wouldn’t leave your husband for me. So you left me with no choice. I have to make you understand,” he slides his hand up your stomach, passing the valley between your breasts before he chooses to linger there, squeezing, teasing, pleasing. “That no one can touch you like I do. No one can love you like I do.”

You can feel him kissing your neck, licking a stripe up from your collarbone to the spot below your ear. “It was quite tricky copying his handwriting like that. There’s one letter I still can’t do very well even now. But it was enough to trick you, so I think everything’s fine in the end,” he chuckles, the sound filling your chest with horror, though you could barely register it now, not with the drug flowing in your system.

“You asked me what I would do to make you feel loved if I were your husband.” He carries you closer to the window, letting you see, with all the little power you have left, your husband closing the door of his car. Yuuta embraces you from behind, his hands tangled around your waist as he lets you rest your head on his shoulder. “I’m gonna show it to you.” You watch your husband make his way to your porch, oblivious to what’s happening in the dark room across the street. “I’m gonna love you, Angel. I will love you forever. With all my heart. And I’m gonna take my time. I’ll be so thorough with you that once I’m done, you won’t be able to spend a second of your life without me.”

Your husband closes his front door, and with it goes your last chance of escaping, if there was even one.

You start losing strength in your legs, in your arms, but you’re still able to cry, and so you do just that. It won’t help you, nothing will help you, no one will help you, and no one will know what he’s doing to you, not when everyone thinks so fondly of him.

“Oh, Sweetheart, don’t cry.” He kisses your tears away, landing an even softer one on your temple. “Don’t be afraid of me, my love. After all, it’s just me.” He meets your eyes in the reflection of his window, smiling with his hand holding the front of your neck.

“Your sweet neighbor Yuuta.”

***

#yuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuta x reader #yuta x reader #jjk x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #jjk fics #i was this close 🤏 at naming this My Sweet Neighbor Yuuta but that's so cringe and predictable #and while that IS who i am #let me be mature for a second lsdkfad #couldn't come up with a title so there you go #wait what if i just shorten it to MSNY lol #terrible idea people would think i was writing about misogyny #untitled it is #kana.fics #wait i can use it in the tags tho #kana.MSNY #i swear i don't support it guys

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elirium · 1 month ago

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Tokyo Jujutsu Tech Year of 2018

Kyoto Version | 2007 Version

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demigodickrider · 11 months ago

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indefinitely, forever ☆ okkotsu yuuta! [3/3]

okkotsu yuuta (post shibuya) x fem!reader click here for: part one | part two | part three - no spoilers from the manga, dwdw ;) - alternative universe where yuuta is an SCP? - [18+] three-part series, 10k+ words in total

(note: not proofread, expect grammar mistakes) warning: contains SMUT, reader is a virgin, yuuta is a bit OOC/has that gojo satoru influence, romance, happy ending but contains slight angst and comfort, 2nd person pov, reader swears like a sailor

Yuta rolls his eyes playfully at you, large hands toying with the hem of your shirt. It was unnatural just how touch-starved he was; the relentless need to touch you, any part of you, imprinted into the deepest parts of his soul somewhere. "So, do you want to continue?"

"Continue what?"

"Like, if you wanna fuck.. or something..."

"Huh?!" Now its your turn to be continuously shocked.

"O-Only if you want to!" Yuta insists, clamping a hand over his nose and lips out of embarrassment followed by his classic shy gaze to the side. He turns a shade of red you have never imagined anyone could turn to, but Okkotsu Yuta had always defied the impossible.

You've already lost your first kiss to the floor while being chased down by the same man you just made out with.

So would it truly hurt to just fuck him?

No, it wouldn't.

It wouldn't at all.

His eyes watch your every move. He has a bad habit of staring at people, you note. You pry the calloused fingers off his face and capture his lips in another kiss, this time sensual and passionate.

"Are you sure?" He asks, just before he returns the kiss.

"Stop talking and just fuck me already."

"Will do, ma'am." He teases, sealing your protests with his lips.

Yuta wastes no time in helping you discard your top off, trailing butterfly kisses from your mouth and down your neck. Strong arms rest on either side of your body, hands large than yours clasping over the back and holding you down. His kisses now felt ticklish and feverish, each leaving a scorch on your skin akin to summer heat.

Heat pools between your thighs. You weakly tug at his collar to let him know that you want to see him; just as he had showed off before. Yuta ends the butterfly trail at your sternum, right above your breasts. He stands upright and grins wickedly at you.

"So eager to see me?"

"Shut up, you were the one eager enough to strip for me."

"Mhm," Yuta grips the back collar and pulls it off of him, greeting you with an all-too familiar sight for your eyes to feast on. You can't help but stare at his torso. No one would know that such a strong build was lying beneath the soft material of your sweater. The uniform he had on earlier did nothing for his form as it covered everything your eyes had glory to rest on now. Your fingers yearn for contact; they ghost across thickened skin, hardened with muscle from years of training and killing. "I bet you enjoyed the show, didn't you? Since you sided with me because of my body."

"Don't listen to Maki!"

He giggles, taking your hand and kissing the back of it. You huff, but the sight of him leaning into your touch has you feeling all-forgiving.

"Sorry. Good thing nudity is allowed here."

You were about to protest yet again but he dampens your voice with the palm of his hand. With his other, he unclasps your bra and pushes the strap off each shoulder, leaving a kiss on them as he did.

"W-Wait..."

Yuta ignores your pleads this time, resuming the trail of kisses down to your breasts. Your body instinctively arches up when he plays with the buds on your right breast, watching how it hardens in the cold. He latches onto your left breast next, his hot tongue swirling around the swollen areola and flicking it upwards. Pleasure strummed through your body and you grabbed both his wrists to steady yourself. Soft moans leave your lips as Yuta's tongue works wonders, his other hand nipping the bud playfully.

"Oh, fuck." You wrap your legs around his waist, caging him to you. With your bodies pressed against each other you could feel the dig of his crotch on your clothed half. Not wanting to lose the battle, you started to rut your hips in tandem with his suckling on your breasts, an awkward position to be in but it worked given the heavy groans you were receiving from the man. "Oh, Yuta..."

Yuta hums, switching to your other breast. "Must I give this one some attention too?" He pinches the nub in his hand and licks it.

"Mhm..."

"Hm?"

"P-Please." You were in too deep to really formulate anything.

He's pleased with your answer and continues to suck on it, earning a damn near pornographic moan from you.

The tension hung heavy in the air, once-clear windows fogging up from the heat you were both sharing. One moan after another, he drank up the breathy praises, doing his absolute best to please you. "So good, please don't stop..." Not that he ever would. The taste of your skin was addicting to him, and he worshiped your body in ways words never could, pouring every inch of love he had in him to the way he pleasured you. His hands grab at every patch of skin he could cover, running them up and down your body, over and over again in a routine only he knows. Yuta meets your lips in another fiery kiss, fingers dancing ever-so-lightly over the waistband of your pajama shorts, as if waiting for your permission.

You deepen the kiss, a hand shifting through the soft tufts of his black hair and another resting on his broad shoulder. You swipe your tongue on his lower lip and he gives in, opening up, your tongue breaking through and exploring his mouth. His skin shivers to this, reacting sensitively even to the lightest of touches. He tastes of mild peppermint and a tad of coffee from the one you had given to him earlier. He folds into your play, hands finally slipping past the waistband and pulling your pants down. He's attentive as his large hands glide down your body, feeling the stretch marks on your hips and thighs; every inch of you a different texture that he liked.

He whines cutely when your lips leave his to steady your breath. "I can't do this, I need to taste you. I'll die if I don't."

"No one's stopping you, big boy."

The words went straight to his dick, already leaking with precum and uncomfortably tight in his pants. But he'll gladly cast his orgasm aside just for you to feel fully satisfied by him, being the gentleman that he is. He gives you a light peck and make quick work of your underwear, pulling it by the teeth and shoving them down to your ankles. He then pries your thighs further apart, catching sight of your glistening folds, already wet with arousal from earlier.

"Y-Yuta, don't stare like that." You attempt to close your thighs together. He shushes you, keeping them open.

His curiosity gets the better of him when his index finger traces down and up on your exposed cunt agonizingly slow, your body twitching in response to it. Your breaths turn shallow; airy and needy with every stroke he gives it. Yuta studies how your chest heaves every time his finger ghosts over your clit, and the slight tremor from your legs.

"Ever been eaten out before?"

"N-No. Why?"

"No reason."

"W-Wait.. you're not s-supposed to-!"

Your moans fill the apartment when he goes down on you. A starved man with a five-course meal ready at his service, tongue lapping up your juices. You're no longer sitting up now, your back against the cold surface with your thighs pressed on your chest. Your legs hang over his shoulders and Yuta grunts at the taste of you; nothing could ever live up to this. His guilty indulgence continues its ravage on your sweet cunt, the fingers in his hair tugging at its roots only egging him on as he devours you. Your clit begs for mercy from his sucking, swollen and red yet the pleasure comes in waves. Goosebumps prickle your skin, this time from a good cause. Tears threaten to spill from just how good he was eating you out, especially when his tongue starts entering you. Warm and languid, he pushes into your hole as far as he could with a finger rubbing on your clit.

"Oh- fuck, that feels so good, Yuta- please..."

His name on your lips was a devout prayer to him. In the moonlight, his eyes hint a shade of blue, fluttering open to watch you. Your head is tossed back, sweat beading across your forehead and your neck, hands no longer have the energy to grip his soft hair when he's propelling you fast towards your first orgasm. His fingers work magic on the tiny bud on your cunt, the little bundles of nerves jerking together once you feel the pressure reach a breaking point.

"W-Wait, feel funny like- mgh, like its-"

Orgasm rips through you hard and blindingly white; with the only indicator of it ever happening being the strangled sob that left your dry lips. Your body convulses, arching up and tensing, tears leaving the crevices of your eyelids. His tongue leaves you only when the trembling subsides. Yuta admires how cute your clit spasms from the overstimulation. Slick covers your cunt and inner thigh.

"Feel good?" Eyes heavy with lust search your face for signs of discomfort, relieved when you mumble a weak yes. He picks you up, cradling you in his arms, "Wanna taste yourself?"

You manage a single nod. Your lips meet in a slow kiss, tongue delving into each other's mouths again. There's a tinge of sweetness on him that wasn't there previously. The orgasm had left your eyes hazy and your mind in a fuzz; all you could really feel was the primal urge to just fuck him. Your body groans in misery from how empty you felt without him. Your free hand tugs on the band of his pants impatiently. He lets go of you, a string of saliva interconnected. He fumbles with his pants and throws it somewhere behind him. He’s left in his boxers and a visible bulge.

He’s beyond needy when you palm his entrapped cock.

"Yuta..." And you're begging for it too.

"I know, I know. So eager for me." He kisses the tips of your fingers and undresses himself, freeing his dick from the confines of his tight boxers. It springs up, lathered in his own precum, upright and demanding attention. It's just as pretty as you imagined, as beautiful as the man himself. "Do you want me to put it in you yet?"

"C-Can I try... uh..."

"Oh," He realizes with a smile, "You wanna have a taste?"

Your head bobs with determination. You've never had sex before, let alone given someone a sex-job of any kind. His right hand pumps on his length. He could easily be seven inches long, and you doubt that it's all he had to offer. Yuta pats your thigh, "You sure?"

"I've never given a blowjob before." You admitted.

"That's okay. I'll teach you."

With the assistance of his arms around you, you stood. He's taller than you by a few centimeters. You've watched enough porn to know that you'd have to kneel down to reach his height, but waited for his orders nonetheless. He puts both hands on your shoulders and pushes you down on your knees, as expected, before placing a thumb on your lips. "Open wide. And try to keep your teeth away."

You did as you're told, opening your mouth up.

"Pinch me hard if it hurts." You agree to the terms and Yuta takes a deep breath, sliding his dick into your mouth. It's warm and comforting, the image of it going down a forever memory. Just as you expected, he's bigger than what you've normally seen; you keep your teeth away and suck in a breath when it glides in, only choking a little when it hits the back of your throat. He stifled a moan, patting your head as a way to tell you that you're taking him well. "Oh fuck," It's odd to see him so tearful, "Your mouth's so.. ah.. warm."

Doe eyes stare up at him, waiting for a move.

"Y-Yeah," He swallows, "You can move now."

With closed eyes you start to bob your head at a slow pace, testing the waters first. The hand on your head forms into a gripping fist, the other holding onto the counter edge for stability. Yuta's breathing heavily, trying his best to stay still for you. Now that you've orally memorized his length, you started to speed up at a constant space, letting your right hand rest on his thigh and the other pumping him up. The entirety of him wouldn't fit you just yet. For some reason, the sounds he’s making caused your cunt to throb even deeper with need.

"Slow down.. Hah..." His voice is raw and deep.

You could feel him harden inside. You suck in your cheeks as much as you could, vacuuming all space for a tighter hold on his dick.

"O-Oh, fuck.. fuck..." This has him hunching over, and panting like the bitch in heat he is, "I-Is this really your first.. ah.. time..?"

You swirl your tongue up to the tip and free his dick with a pop. The absence of his cock left your throat scratchy and your voice similar to sandpaper. You drag your tongue up from the base, following a protruding vein. Yuta whimpers at the sensation pathetically, wanting more albeit also wanting you to be in control. The momentum of his orgasm came crashing down.

"Do I really suck dick that good?"

You attempt to blow the strands of hair sticking to your face.

Tender fingers rake the strands away in a voiceless reply, tucking them behind your ear. Rather, he picks you up for the umpteenth time that day, letting your legs wrap around him once more- and sets you back down on the sofa. The sofa dips down when he kneels on the edge, forcing your thighs apart for the second time. He puts his middle and ring finger in his mouth, coating them in his saliva all while looking at you. Something changed in the way he looked at you.

A tad bit deranged.

Like if he didn't fuck you now he was going to really die.

"Honestly, it made me want you all to myself." He confesses, slipping his middle finger into you. You squeak at his admission, cheeks flushing redder. Your walls stretch around the digit, pulsing and coming alive, a gasp aloud at the sudden intrusion. It wasn't unwelcomed - feels uncomfortable and good at the same time. You've masturbated a couple times before with the same two fingers, but this just felt different. Something about the texture of his hands and how he curls it deep inside took your breath away. He pushes it in, slow and controlled, letting you adjust to his one finger alone. "Think you can handle two for me?"

"That's just one?!"

"I'm bigger than that." Yuta muses, watching you squirm slightly around his finger. It would be too painful for you to take him head-on, considering his size. With god-like patience, he retracts his finger only to slide it back in again repeatedly, widening the hole.

"O-Okay. You can put another one in-"

Tight. So tight.

So tight that you had to hold your breath. The ring that you never noticed was now submerged deep in you too. It's cool unlike the snugness of your vagina. "Y-You're married???"

The man laughs in response, "I wouldn't call it married."

"So I'm screwing with someone else's lover????"

"No, you’re screwing with your lover."

Ooooooh and do his words melt your heart. Red adds to the pink already charming your cheeks and you look away. "Womanizer."

Yuta chuckles, "You'd be the second person to tell me that." If it wasn't for him moving without your orders you would've forgotten that he had your fingers in you. Your slick walls had accommodated them so perfectly he wondered if you were actually meant for him. He scissors his fingers apart, trying to get your walls to stretch even further. Deep within your walls, he starts to pump and curl on the spongy patch embedded on the upper side of your vagina.

He hits it again and again, and each time makes you even wetter than before. He barrels you towards your second orgasm, drinking up the view of your sweaty body twitching when it explodes. You spasm underneath him, mouth open to let out a silent scream.

His fingers leave you with a squelch.

He licks them off. If Yuta could rate you as a meal, he'd give you 6 stars and a Golden Prize Award for Best Pussy. That's just how good you tasted to the boy. He’s handsy again, hands traveling across your body while his cock spreads your folds, feeling you underneath.

“Are you sure you want this raw?”

Your half-lidded eyes bat at him, "Shut up and fuck me."

Amusement glinted in his eyes, “Sorry.” He apologizes mockingly, tone far from apologetic. Yuta takes one last look at you for time’s sake and enters you, pausing when his tip fully breached the inside. It’s barely all of him and it has the butterflies in your stomach taking flight. He pushes the rest of him into you meticulously, afraid of breaking you.

Dull pain shot through you when he broke through, “W-Wait!”

“Are you okay?” He stops, hair matted to his forehead. He’s itching to move so badly with how warm you were hugging his cock. Tears filled up your eyes from how it stinged, but you didn’t want him out. You raise a hand and he understands, granting you some time to get used to his full length. He’s inside you entirely to the hilt, pressing against your womb.

Yuta Okkotsu and his impossibly big dick be damned.

“I-I’m okay now.” He’s on cloud fucking nine the way you squeezed him.

“How do you want it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Let me know if it hurts then. Safe word’s Okkotsu.” Yuta crawls forward and cages your head between his forearms, sharing the same breath you do. Being in charge turned him cocky, a 180° difference from the shy, timid person so worried for you not long ago. You raise a brow at him, and he raises a brow back at you. “Unless you plan on screaming that name of mine too.”

“H-Hey!”

He turns a deaf ear to your stammering, shifting your legs on his shoulder. You feel his dick slide in slightly further and the impatience brimming from him, “I’ll move now.”

Yuta pulls out his length.

Then he slams it back with full force, knocking the wind out of you.

You yelp, followed by a groan, which soon turned into chains of moaning from how hard he was rutting in you. He isn’t quiet by any means either, groaning and grunting equally loud in your ear while he fucks irrationally fast into you. Pain turns to pleasure, the same way your moans turn into high-pitched prayers of his name, saliva drooling from the edge of your lips and eyelashes damp from your tears. Dirty praises drip from his ever-loving lips with every second he spends rough-fucking you. It hits the same spot each time without fail, building up your release. The couch creaks repeatedly, and it would be to no one’s surprise if you had to replace it.

Unlike the kiss you first shared with him, his lips are ruthless- now serving as a way to effectively shut you up. He adored your fingers; how small they were compared to his, now groaning at how they feel scraping down his body, red marks littering his back. He loved how you detested him in the early hours of meeting him and how easily you succumbed to him now, a moaning mess of his own doing. He reveled in the way your body accepted him so easily at the first touch, second, third and the ones you share with him right now.

He absolutely,

truly,

devastatingly,

loved you.

You babble incoherent words, so cockdrunk that the only word he could make out was his name in begging. “Yuta Yuta Yuta-” His hands move to grip your waist for better control. Your folds wrapped so perfectly around his dick that he found it exceedingly difficult to move out each time; every millisecond out of it made him pound back in twice as hard. He aches for more: more of the sex, more of your touch, more of your moans, and more of his name out your mouth.

If he could spend every second of his life devoted to you, he truly would. Whatever energy lost in the heat of the moment was reclaimed by the sounds you made for him. Yuta buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the faint smell of your vanilla shampoo he too shared. Your skin was so soft unlike his, how could it be? You were both human, but you were the perfection he wished he was and he felt blessed to lay even a single finger on you. The pinnacle of God’s creation, laid all bare and fucked out for his infatuated eyes to obsess.

He could feel his orgasm approaching anytime soon.

Yuta bites into you hard enough to draw blood.

“I-It h-hurts…” You choke on your own words, sobbing under his mercy.

“You’re taking it.. hah, so…. well for me, aren’t.. you?” He cooes at you between breaths, kitten licking the spot to soothe your crying. He couldn’t resist the urge to mark you up, your pussy swallowing him deep so much that he’s utterly pussydrunk, only obsessed with the thought of you. How could he, when you’re so perfect and obedient to him? He owed you your life, and he’s fucking you so good that the hands on your waist would inevitably bruise you. His tongue readies another spot by your shoulder; sinking his teeth in once more and lapping up the blood that emerged from within.

“Oh yes, yes- yes - yes yes yes - oh! yes yes - yes-”

It wouldn’t matter if he hurt you, he’d heal you right up.

But why would he?

You looked so much better this way, under his mercy.

He slows down to a constant pace to check his work on you. A masterpiece of purple and blue, on show for everyone to see if your shirt were to uncover enough. Satisfied, he kisses the lobe of your ear, sighing when your moans turn a pitch higher when he nibbles on it.

“Look at you,” He’s as breathless as you are. “Taking me so well.”

His free hand finds its way back on your clit, stroking it in conjunction with the snap of his hips against yours. You’re reaching your third breaking point of the night- evident from the way your toes curl and the tremor in your legs.

“I-I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum…!”

“Y-Yeah? Me too.” He collects your weakened arms and pins them above you, fucking at the same pace. His eyes marvel in the sight of your fucked out expression, pupils blown absolutely wide, your mouth hanging open singing broken moans for him. A drug to remember; to indulge in forever, tucked into the craters of his mind. “Cum with me, pretty.”

“C-Coming!”

He pulls out just as your orgasm washes over you. Yuta places a hand over your mouth as you scream into it from the onslaught of pleasure running through your veins, bringing you close to the brink of unconsciousness. Your vision turns blurry; it took you time to realize that Yuta had come on you. Ropes of cum landed on your abdomen the same time you did, sultry and dense in white.

For a minute or so you both stayed in your positions, letting consciousness and rationality take over.

Exhaustion quickly befalls the two of you. You turn to the side and Yuta collapses next to you, flinging a protective arm around you. Now you’re locking eyes with each other, face-to-face, both completely stark naked. You wriggle your arm between your bodies to cup his cheek in your hand, admiring how good he looked all sweaty and tired.

He was the first to break the silence, “Do you forgive me?”

You wipe the edge of his lips, stained with lipstick.

“Yeah I do.”

He takes your hand and kisses the knuckles he had healed for you.

“Thank you.”

Aftercare and dinner could wait. The air stills into comfortable silence. It’s early December. The snow outside compels you both to rest, a gentle lullaby sung by the warmth that enveloped you two. Yuta strokes a reassuring thumb over your knuckles, a silent but sure promise to keep you safe. His dark eyes hold a newfound meaning now that you’ve given him your all.

You both share a soft smile, new to this chapter.

Soon you found yourself drifting off in the mess of your bodies entangled together.

Indefinitely, forever.

THE END LOL FUCKING FINALLY IM DONE I HOPE U ENJOYED emuach emuach uHHHHHH ©demigodickrider / aftercare link

#jjk #jjk x reader smut #smut #jjk smut #x reader #yuta okkotsu #okkotsu yuta #okkotsu yuuta #how the fuck do you spell hiss name #yuuta okkotsu #jesus christ #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #hallelujah im done #jujutsu kaisen x reader #romance #the end #what the fuck did i write

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kaipendesarapen · 9 months ago

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inuokko

#pennyhill.kt #my art #FANARTs #jjk fanart #fanart #jjk inumaki #inumaki toge #yuuta okkotsu #yuuta #inumaki #jjk yuuta #yuuta fanart #inumaki fanart #inuokko #inumaki x yuuta #i thought their ship name was yutamaki #a friend from fb humbled me down and and told me the correct name😭😭😭😭

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elderyautjavegeta · 10 months ago

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So uhhhhhhhh how about that season finale???? I've been anime only up until this point but now I'm gonna catch up with the manga! I did this quick doodle because it's all I could think about. Does Yuuji know about what happened to Inumaki??? Does he know it's Sukuna's fault?? Ugh I'll just have to read... I'm scared.

Yuuta (top panel): You cut off my boyfriend's arm in Shibuya. I'm gonna kill you.

Yuuji (bottom panel): I did WHAT to WHO now??

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk s2 #jjk spoilers #jjk fanart #okkotsu yuuta #yuuta okkotsu #inumaki x yuuta #yuuta x inumaki #itadori yuuji #yuuji itadori #does that ship even have an official name help #my digital art #procreate #riley draws #inuyuuta #my art

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lokissweater · 3 months ago

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hey! i really love your fics and i have a special request 4 my 19th birthday ( aug 16 ) . can you do inexperienced yuuta x inexperienced reader or frat boy/play boy yuuta x shy nerdy reader? I really luv u and it would mean alot 2 me if you did this,feel free to say no or ignore this if you want! no pressure!

OH MY GOODNESSS i could never ignore this! i can ABSOLUTELY cook this one up for you and i hope i met your expectations!! i wanted to release this right on your birthday, so here is my gift to you! <3 ILY you’re so sweet thank you for sending in a request!

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finally.

{frat boy/playboy yuta okkotsu x nerdy f!reader}

summary: yuta okkotsu is a typical popular frat boy player who’s never been told no, but at one of his regular parties where he spots your pretty little self in the kitchen, and you turn him down? his entire existence resets as he then cannot stop thinking about you and tries his absolute hardest to change the impression you have on him.

warnings: college au, afab!reader, fluufff, mentions of alcohol and drinking, yuta LOVES you, he’s a little weenie at first, character development yuta, no smut in this one!, cursing, party fight, protective yuta, yuta fights someone lol, slight sexual themes but really nothing.

word count: 5k

authors note: OH HOW I LOVE THIS ONEEE!! i hope i’m feeding you guys well this week with these fics hehe!! IM WRITING A FREAKY ONE FOR THIS NEXT SO STAY TUNED!! love you love you <3

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yuta okkotsu was the biggest player and frat boy to ever plague your college campus— having parties literally every other night and trashing the absolute fuck out of his frat house after every single one, living in the privileges of popularity as he was without a doubt the hottest man there.

he absolutely relished in his reputation, loved the attention, loved the stares he got, and had a body count that absolutely shot through the roof in numbers.

and yuta was quite literally a typical frat boy. he was loud and obnoxious, the most stubborn hot headed man to ever exist on the face of the planet, passed the time playing beer pong for fun and drinking, and had girls practically at his feet, him never having to work for anything to get in his bed and fuck.

until he met you.

you had timidly walked into one of his frat parties one night, shy, cutely nerdy, a little scared and absolutely drop dead gorgeous, your energy an entirely different one from his own as he watched you a little too much throughout the night, rehearsing his perfected plan of getting girls into bed with him as he finally spotted you alone in the kitchen after a while, approaching you.

yuta flashed you an attractive polished smile as he leaned up against the kitchen counter, practically cornering you in as you eyed him alarmingly.

“hey,” he sipped at his beer. “what’s your name?”

you awkwardly shifted, wondering where the hell your best friend was as the biggest player you’ve ever heard of was talking to you.

“y-y/n…” you stammered, your gaze barely looking at him but giving a small smile through your nervousness nonetheless.

“pretty name for a pretty girl,” he hummed. “you’ve never come to my parties before, have you?”

you shook your head no, your doe eyes finally peering up at him.

“welcome then!” he chirped smoothly and leaned closer to you, his breath faintly smelling of alcohol. “you here by yourself?”

“no i’m with a friend, actually.” you laughed awkwardly, your cheeks red with embarrassment but smiling politely through your discomfort, not wanting to offend him in any way.

yuta nodded, his eyes scanning the crowd. “did you lose them?��

“i— i guess so—”

“you can stick with me then.” he shrugged, a sly smile on his face as he sweet talked you, it slightly faltering when he noticed how uncomfortable you looked, but carrying on anyways. “you wanna head upstairs? maybe we can—”

“no thank you.”

he paused.

no?

“no?”

he was yuta okkotsu. no girl has ever told him no before.

you shook your head at him and gave him a sugary smile, your tone kind and polite as you started to walk away from him. “i’m sorry, i think i see my friend over there though! thank you for keeping me company, i hope it wasn’t too much trouble!”

he watched you walk away then in your tiny little skirt, and he felt stupidly offended. absolutely stupidly offended as he slightly scoffed and shook his head, taking a swig of his beer, his body and mind literally glitching with the foreign feeling of rejection.

yuta tossed his empty beer bottle lazily in a black garbage bag and stuffed his hands into his pockets, his long legs already pulling him over to the beer pong table in the living room, opting to forgetting the entire encounter he had with you altogether and shaking it off.

except he couldn’t. he couldn’t shake it off.

his brain was buzzing and utterly reeling over the thought of your timid nature and soft spoken words and pretty pretty face from that point forward, thoughts that aggravated him to no end that bubbled up every time he ate, slept, was in class, and did basically anything.

he didn’t know why it was happening. he didn’t know why you took over his every fucking thought as he only interacted with you for like five minutes. but your aura was different. so poised, so shy and gentle, and it was like a red string was physically pulling him towards you everywhere you went.

yuta saw you around campus a lot more after that, you sticking out like a sore thumb and blinding his vision whenever you walked past him, your smile sweet and respectful towards him that lasted only a millisecond as you walked down further, his eyes watching you over his shoulder, soft.

you conversations with him were nothing but polite and casual as he tried to talk to you again and again, your body language guarded and careful, but your voice like silky honey, speaking to him with more kindness than he deserved.

yuta never seemed to be able to get past the invisible wall you built in front of him.

“a girl like her isn’t gonna go for a guy like you, yuta.” one of his frat brothers muttered to him, having been fed up with yuta’s moping and grumbling around the house ever since he saw you.

“and why not.” he gruffed, his arms tightly crossed over his chest as he leaned back on the couch.

“because she’s nothing like us.” he emphasized. “she’s a nerd, respects herself, is way too good for you, and would never let herself waste time with a guy of your reputation.”

his frat brother patted him heavily on the shoulder. “just go back to the ones you usually go for. they’re easy.”

yuta only rolled his eyes and stood, but he really couldn’t deny what he had said. you were too good for him, way too good for him, his life completely mismatched from yours— paths never meant to cross as he solemnly watched you from afar, wanting you to smile at him the way you smiled at others, wanting you to talk about your precious nerdy interests and your studies with him like you do with your friends, and wanting you to just simply look at him longer than the usual casual hello you gave him.

but you never did.

in an attempt to try and talk to you again without seeming like an absolute fucking stupid creep like last time (something he quickly realized), he started throwing parties at his frat literally every single night in hopes of you showing up, scanning the crowd and sulking in a corner when he couldn’t find you, the bags under his eyes growing darker and darker with every time you didnt make an appearance.

he tried to go back to his old ways and hook up with the girls he usually did, tried to bury you in the back of his mind and go back to before, but he just couldn’t, his mind foggy and preoccupied with thoughts of you that invaded his every neuron, making him kiss his hook ups back lazily or straight up just cancel on them— stopping all together in the end.

it had been months, and yuta sat bored out of his mind on the living room couch during another one of his parties, not a single drop of alcohol in his system as music pumped and drummed through the frat that made his headache ten times worse.

these everyday parties were pointless.

he sat up and trudged to the kitchen, pushing past his friends for a beer until he froze.

there you stood, finally, leaning against the kitchen counter all by yourself, just like how you were when he first saw you.

his eyes flew open and he quickly smoothed over his white t-shirt with his hands, heart hammering against his chest so hard that it traveled down to his ribcage as he approached you, internally freaking the fuck out.

“hey y/n,” he greeted quietly and calm, trying his absolute hardest to convey sincerity towards you. “how are you doing?”

your eyes snapped to his and you leaned back a bit, but smiled. “hi yuta! i’m doing okay. how are you?”

he could practically see the wall you had in front of him, your posture timid and cautious, and his eyes only grew more insecure.

“i’m good! do you— do you want a drink? or something? i could—”

“oh it’s okay yuta! i’m fine,” you answered shyly, a grin on your breathtaking face.

yuta gnawed on his thumb, looking around the kitchen for something, anything that could fix the image you had on him.

the fridge.

“do you um—” he walked over to the fridge, almost stumbling over his own shoes as he opened it. “do you want maybe apple juice? or— or i have chocolate milk? or sunny d i drink like an entire dozen a day but—”

you giggled.

his head snapped over to you and watched your pearly smile, shining just for him for a moment, his shoulders slowly relaxing.

yuta sheepishly scratched the back of his neck and laughed along with you.

“sunny d would be great!”

he stared blankly, and then quickly nodded. “o—okay! yes sunny d—”

he ransacked through his fridge, knocking over several cans of energy drinks and beers before he finally found the sunny d’s in the back, tearing one out from the pack and closing the fridge.

“here you go.”

your cheeks glowed pink as you shyly took the small bottle from his hands, a cute wobbly smile on your face that made yuta’s chest clench.

precious.

he wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans.

“i wanted to apologize—” he strained out. “for the way i spoke to you when we first met.”

you stared at him.

“it was never my intention to make you uncomfortable, and i acted like a complete dingbat with the things i said, so i just—” he scuffed his shoe against the kitchen floor. “i’m really sorry.”

you were quiet, big doe eyes blinking up at him in shock— until your frame gently deflated, eyes softening for him.

“you don’t have to apologize yuta honestly.” your soft voice soothed him, a sound he craved to hear everyday since the moment he met you. “i don’t think any less of you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“you don’t?”

you shook your head cutely, beaming. “i don’t.”

he felt like he could breathe again.

your invisible wall slowly and gradually crumbled away the more you got to know yuta after that. he was still a little flirt, but only a little flirt with you, and he still did his frat boy job duties everyday, but he toned down the parties massively and stopped playing beer pong and drinking just for fun.

it would be a lie if you said you weren’t hesitant about yuta to begin with. you knew of his reputation and the risks you ran with befriending him the way you were— you well aware that he was trying to win you over, but you saw something different in him that he didn’t show to anyone else, and you trusted him, the goodness of your heart always giving people the benefit of the doubt.

he was trying his absolute hardest for you and changing his bad traits, wanting to become a person that deserved to be with you as he listened to you ramble on and on about your classes and your studies all of the time, him smiling adoringly at you because he genuinely loved so much hearing you talk to him and listen to anything you had to say— and yuta was falling practically head over heels over the way you gushed about your little nerdy interests, your eyes shimmering every time.

“and what’s this one called?” he asked softly.

you glanced over. “that’s the corpse flower! they only bloom for two to three days every two to three years.”

“only for two to three days?!” he whispered harshly, the ambiance in the botanical garden quiet and serene as you both observed the different kinds of breeds, flowers being your specialty of knowledge.

and he wanted to know all about it, even though he had a pamphlet in his hand that told him everything.

he wanted to hear it from you.

“and this one?”

he pointed to a vibrant scarlet red flower.

“that’s the cardinal flower. they attract little bees and hummingbirds!”

your words were gentle and polite, your eyes sparkling at all of the different flowers in front of you.

“oo! and this one—” you stopped suddenly, slowly retracting your hand and looking at him bashfully, your cheeks redder than ever.

yuta’s eyebrows furrowed. “what? why’d you stop?” he looked to where you had been staring. “what about this one?”

“sorry!” you sputtered. “i felt like i was getting carried away and talking way too much…”

you laughed it off, but yuta only shook his head.

“no you weren’t. you weren’t at all.”

you peered up at him shyly.

“you can talk about anything you want with me wherever we are, y/n. i like it when you explain to me these things, or anything you know really.” he ruffled your hair. “i like listening to you.”

your cheeks adorned a pinky shade as you took in what he said, and you smiled so so big then, nodding.

“so what’s this one?” he pressed again, lightly.

the bed contained a mix of white and purple flowers, small and dainty as they swayed to and fro a bit with every breeze.

“those are pansies,” you leaned over the railing. “i like these especially because it looks like they have another pair attached to them on the other side.”

“like a little buddy,” yuta commented.

you laughed softly, “yeah! like a little buddy.”

he pointed to a specific pansy that had one white flower and one purple flower on the opposite side.

“that’s you and me.”

“is it?” you grinned. “who’s who?”

“you’re the white one and i’m the purple one,” yuta absentmindedly turned and grabbed your hands gently, playing with your fingertips— and you let him. “because you’re pretty and really fucking smart and way too nice to me, and i’m a douchebag and sometimes i’m a mean and scary old fart.”

you giggled loudly at his joke, shaking your head. “nuh uh. i don’t agree.”

“you don’t?” he quirked an eyebrow, a silly smile on his face.

you shook your head again. “you’re genuine yuta. really genuine. and you’re funny, you never make me feel embarrassed for the things that i love, and you make others happy!… sometimes.”

yuta laughed, “sometimes?” he softly placed your hands back at your sides. “yeah, you’re not wrong.”

“but you make me happy, always.” you finished off.

his eyes lit up like a firework. “really? so does this mean you’ll finally say yes to going out with me and give me a little kiss?”

you snickered and covered your mouth, your cheeks flushed. “nuh uh.”

“aww mannn,” yuta groaned and leaned against the railing, but turned his head to the side after a few seconds and looked at you, giving a tender smile.

your eyes continued to sparkle over the flower beds in front of you, but yuta’s eyes only sparkled at the one flower in front of him.

that’s where he started calling you flower.

“that’s okay!” he leaned back up. “i’ll keep trying.”

and boy did he try. each and every single day yuta tried as he brought you little treats from the campus cafe, or helped carry your textbooks to wherever you went, brought you neatly packaged flowers or sometimes would even pull his car over when he saw pretty ones on the side of the road, getting off and running to pluck them, handing them to you through the window with a goofy grin.

everything was bliss between you two, and your world only got brighter as you hung out with him.

but for yuta, his world got a little complicated.

his former hookups only grew sour once they found out about you, the girl yuta seemed to spend every waking hour with, completely blind sighted to the fact as they thought he would’ve dumped you months ago already.

and his frat brothers were just bothered. yuta wasn’t managing the frat like he used to before, like he was supposed to as their leader, neglecting the collective reputation they all had with him not sweet talking the entire female student body, or their parties not running every single night anymore— and even when they did run, yuta wasn’t ever even there to begin with, he was with you, something they quickly realized.

“you have to cut it out man,” one of them said. “this frat is turning into a shit hole because you keep spending your time with that girl—“ he stopped. “who the fuck even is she? i mean if it was layla fine everybody knows layla but—”

“who she is is none of your fucking business?” yuta snapped. “and just because i’m not sending girls for you to jerk your dick with doesn’t mean this frat is turning into a ‘shit hole.’”

some of the boys snickered.

“you wanna run the maintenance on the house? you wanna call up the fucking board and ask for the ten thousand fucking permits we have to have for our parties every year? you think you can run that?”

“no—”

“then be my fucking guest.”

“okay fine, i’m sorry man.” he sighed. “we haven’t had a party in a week though, we have to throw one tomorrow and you have to be there. then ill call it even.”

yuta snorted. call it even? whatever.

he begrudgingly agreed, not wanting to be there whatsoever but softening up to the fact that maybe he was neglecting his frat a little too much.

so when he called you up that day for your nightly phone calls, yuta asked for your attendance.

“i know— i know parties aren’t really your thing…” he pursed his lips, staring up at the ceiling as he had you on speaker. “but i’d feel a lot better if you were there… and you won’t be alone! you’ll be with me the whole time so—”

yuta sighed. “…i have been neglecting the frat a little bit, and they’re pissed at me.”

you gasped softly, “they are?”

“yeah but i don’t give a fuck.”

you both giggled.

“but i do want to make them somewhat happy so that’s why i gotta throw this party… can you come? it’s okay if not flower don’t worry—”

“of course i can go yuta!” you spoke cutely over the speaker. “as long as you give me a sunny d i’ll be okay.”

he laughed.

“i feel like…” you struggled. “them being mad and what’s happening with your frat is partially my fault yuta… i’m sorry.”

your voice was so worrisome, you feeling tremendous guilt on the other line as you bit your lip.

“what?” his eyes narrowed. “no flower, absolutely not. why would you think that?”

“because i keep asking you to hang out with me,” you spoke softly. “and i feel like im hogging you from your frat boy duties.”

yuta chuckled and shook his head. “i would ten times rather spend time with you than hang out with these fucking dummies.” he sat up on his bed. “i love it when you ask for me flower. keep doing it please. whatever that’s happening with my frat strictly has to do with me okay? not you.”

you grinned on the other end, your heart giddy. “okay.”

so the night of the party, you showed up to his frat looking absolutely gorgeous in your tight little dress, his hands instantly clamming up and his throat closing at the scent of your strawberry perfume and lovely face alone.

yuta tried so hard to keep his eyes respectful and not drift down to your ass or the way your perfect tits squeezed out from the top, almost physically slapping himself when he accidentally touched you way lower than he should have when guiding you through the crowd.

everywhere he went people were greeting him or passing him shots, him quickly acknowledging everybody and downing whatever they gave him as you shyly and timidly stuck to his body (which he loved).

yuta taught you how to play beer pong that night and cheered like an absolute fucking idiot whenever you would make it in, drinking the cups for you instead as he knew you weren’t the biggest fan of alcohol, which made you a little weak in the knees that he catered to you so much.

the party was actually way more fun than the both of you expected, especially for yuta, because he proudly had you on his arm as you walked throughout the house, you trying your absolute hardest to ignore the stares you got from different girls and not uttering a single word about it to yuta, not wanting to burden him and take his focus away from rejuvenating the frat and his brothers.

all was bliss, until it wasn’t.

“is this her? the girl you’re always talking to?” one of his frat brothers stumbled through the crowd, the one that argued with him the day before, drunk off of his freaking mind as his eyes raked over your body like nothing.

yuta instantly picked up on that and stiffened, “yeah.”

he tried his best to swallow his annoyance and be civil as he gently placed a hand on your back and softly ushered you forward, you shy and clinging onto his shirt. “this is y/n.”

“h—hi.”

“i see why you abandoned us for a nerd man!” he slurred. “she’s fucking hot. never seen tits look so good—”

your breath hitched.

“the fuck you just say?” yuta tugged you behind him. “the hell is wrong with you man? don’t talk about her like that.”

you noticed several eyes looking over.

“what!” he hiccuped dumbly. “they do! why are you getting pissed—”

“i don’t give a shit!” yuta snapped. “don’t talk about her like that!”

he scoffed, swaying a little. “what, like you actually care about her anyways—”

“are you fucking serious?” yuta stepped forward and you tugged him back, your eyes frantic as they scanned over the crowd forming and back to him.

“no yuta, he’s drunk it’s okay—”

“she’s just another one for your body count, once you fuck her you’re gonna leave—”

yuta slipped from your grasp and lunged at him, tackling him and towering over him on the ground as he fisted his shirt and jerked him up, yuta landing punch after punch to his face as the crowd yelled, cheered and recorded around you.

“yuta please!” you tried to get his attention, your chest heaving in a panic as you watched the other guy land a hit on yuta, not wanting him to get hurt over you at all whatsoever.

yuta dodged another coming hit and beat the shit out of him, grueling him down to a mere pulp as everything around him went completely white and fuzzy, his body stinging with absolute rage.

he was furious.

finally, several other frat brothers broke through the crowd and pulled yuta off of him.

“that’s enough that’s enough!”

“guys stop!”

quickly, you grabbed yuta’s hand once they put him aside and tugged him away from the crowd, speed walking to the front door.

“you’re out of the fucking frat you piece of shit!” yuta practically roared behind him as you pulled him. “you’re out!”

your trembling fingers hurriedly turned the knob and opened the door, dragging him out down the steps to the porch and across the grass, not saying a single word to him yet as he kept breathing out desperate apologies to you with every step.

once you both were a safe distance away from the house and just a tiny bit down the street, you let go of his hand and turned to him.

“—fuck im sorry i’m sorry im so sorry—” yuta shoved the base of his palms into his eyes as he threw his head back, “i just fucked everything up between us i—”

yuta knew you would never want to be with a guy like him, especially one that couldn’t keep his shit together and resorted to violence the way he did minutes ago, right in front of you. a guy like that didn’t deserve you. you deserved way way fucking more. and as he tore his palms away from his face, eyes looking up at the night sky, he knew he completely messed up his chances with you for good.

his head snapped down to look at you, his eyebrows pinched and eyes contorted in absolute guilt and agony as he placed his bloody knuckled hands on your little cheeks.

“i’m so fucking sorry he said those things to you like that that was not okay flower,” he emphasized. “and i’m so sorry i beat him when you told me not to i— i just couldn’t stand there when he was talking to you like that man—”

he dropped his hands and cursed, his arms going up as he covered his eyes again.

“yuta it’s okay—”

“no,” he shook his head and looked at you. “no it’s not okay. you deserve way more than this and no matter how fucking hard i try to do better, the life i built before you just doesn’t let me.”

his eyes got so sad, saying words he didn’t want to say, but knew he had to. “you shouldn’t be around a guy like me flower, you really shouldn’t. fuck— i don’t want you around a guy like me. you’re too precious for that. i’m gonna end up screwing you over like i always do—”

“yuta stop.” you raised your voice a little, your tone one he’d never ever heard come out of your mouth, firm and serious in contrast to the sweetness you always gave him.

he shut right up.

“come sit down with me on the curb,” you pulled his arm. “please.”

he followed you and sat down next to you on the side walk with his head down, you taking in how yuta only had one little cut next to his eyebrow, pride funnily bubbling up in your chest as you realized how good he actually fought.

he did that. for you. he made a scene out of himself and protected your name.. for you. although you hated that he got into a fight, you knew he was trying so so hard for you, going above and beyond for a year now trying to fix himself to be a better man deserving of you, and you were immensely touched, no one having put even close to that amount of effort like he was in your life.

“you don’t get to decide what i deserve yuta.”

his eyes shot in your direction “but as a friend i’m telling you—”

you huffed as you grabbed his cheeks and kissed him.

you kissed him.

yuta’s eyes were blown astronomically wide as you did, his heart no longer beating as he could’ve sworn he was dead right now, not believing that you were actually kissing him.

him.

you pulled apart from his lips with a smack, your hands still on his red cheeks. “a guy who’s willing to literally change himself without me having to ask, trying to be better for me everyday without fault for literally a year, doing everything he can to make me happy? definitely deserves me yuta. you deserve me.”

you pecked his forehead softly and pulled back again, his body going numb when you did. “so what if you beat the shit out of him? i would do it too if someone was talking to you like that i don’t care. i’d lose but i’d do it,” you giggled. “i didn’t like the fight because i don’t want you getting hurt, ever, period. but you literally scrapped him up like it was nothing, so i don’t have anything to worry about.”

he shook his head and playfully rolled his eyes. “no flower that’s the thing you’re too sweet to me, i don’t want you justifying—”

“yuta be quiet!” you whispered harshly, giving him a silly grin. “you talk too much.”

you reached up and very very gently pecked the little cut on the side of his eyebrow, feeling a cool calming waterfall wash over his body at the feeling of your soft lips finally on him, something he’s wished upon every star for.

“you’re so good to me yuta, truly you are. and i’m sorry it’s taken me so long to say this because i’m always nervous but—” you smiled endearingly. “i do want to go out with you, and i do want to give you little kisses. all of the time.”

yuta slowly let his forehead fall against yours, feeling like he was in a dream as the only emotion he felt at the moment was bliss. pure honeyed bliss as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to his chest, his face burying in your silky hair.

his hard work had finally paid off, and he had every fucking intention of keeping up that work until the day he dies, wanting you, his shy and timid precious little flower forever in his life— you changing him for the better so much that he finally feels like he’s properly healthy, in more ways than one.

“we’re going out tomorrow,” he mumbled into your hair. “bright and early. i’m gonna take you to get breakfast, and then we’re gonna go to that aquarium you’ve been wanting to go to for weeks now, and then i’m gonna buy you a souvenir, and then i’m gonna take you to get your nails done—”

“yu!” you pulled back and giggled happily. “you don’t have to buy me anything my goodness. just you is enough.”

he bit his lip, smiling like a fucking idiot.

“really?”

“really.”

“well too fucking bad i’m gonna do it anyways.”

he pulled you back in as you laughed and buried his face back into your hair, not wanting to break away at all, feeling like the richest douchebag in the world as he finally had you as his.

you scooted your face up then and nudged him, him pulling a part in response as you proceeded to plant another sugary kiss to his lips, yours lingering as they melted into a perfect mold against his mouth, yuta’s heart absolutely soaring, your red invisible strings close together at last.

he finally had you.

finally.

and he was never letting you go.

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kenmakodz · 9 months ago

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—CANDID LOVE.

pairing: yuuta okkotsu x reader

summary: in which you and your friends sign up for a transfer study opportunity, but only you were accepted into the program. the idea of navigating an unfamiliar place while being away from your friends is a plague to the mind. when you finally get settled in and realize that the first project you’re assigned is with partners, in a class where you know nobody, all hope is lost— until the teacher starts reading out names: “y/n l/n and yuuta okkotsu, pair up”.

status: ongoing (started february 18, 2024)

warnings: mostly fluff, lil bit of angst, foul language, dark/crack humor, social media au, timestamps are irrelevant unless stated otherwise

- names of chapters can/will change as the story progresses

- chapters with (☆) will have written section(s)

profiles

yuuji hate club [y/n's group]

3 reasons to wear a condom [yuuta's group]

chapters

01. nobara-assigned tour guide

02. shitty sushi place

03. life: ended

04. denialtown

05. sound the alarms

06. brain food

07. i hate men (except you two)

08. grow some balls!!

09. pinch me

9.5. birthday bash!!

10. dream team

11. i'll see you in court

12. jealousy

13. wait, what?

14. BANNED </3

more to be announced ..

notes - finally getting this au up and running since ive been thinking it through for quite a while! i do write slow and overthink everything so updates MAYYY be patchy (please dont hate me if they are). i'm super excited about this though! it's my first time doing a full social media fic yayay i hope you guys end up liking it :p i heart yuuta

tag list is open

⤷ © kenmakodz -- pfps and pictures used do not belong to me, but the story does.

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yuphoric · 10 months ago

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gf 4 rent ❥ jjk special grade sorcerers

“Does this mean I’m your favorite client?”

“I don’t know, why should you be?”

“I could take care of you, I could love you. Like no other.”

“Yeah, yeah. But could you pay me high?”

➠ summary: Finding herself unable to pay her rent, Y/N comes upon the “GF-4-Rent” app. She joined expecting to be paid a substantial amount, similar to the posts of different testimonies of both the “girlfriends” and “customers.” Though she was unaware that the “4” in the app’s name meant four separate people—with the demand of asking for her services. And did she mention that they were all very attractive?

➠ pairing: jjk special grade sorcerers x f!reader; rich heir!satoru gojo x f!reader, law student!yuuta okkotsu x f!reader, tattoo artist!suguru geto x f!reader, boxer!yuki tsukumo x f!reader

➠ genre: comedy (romcom ey), fluff, angst, and mature themes (eventual smut)

profiles:

“GF-4-Rent” | #NobDontRob | the four clients

WELCOME, ARE YOU A GF OR LOOKING FOR A GF?

➠ LOADING FOR UPDATES…

♡ 001 | bitchless, helpless, shelterless

♡ 002 |

TAGLIST IS OPEN!

a/n: this is just an excuse for me to write for all of the special grade sorcerers........ and i am not guilty about it . also this is a smau but I will be making my own graphics for some parts <3

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seungsuki · 3 months ago

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god - cult activities come to an end (gn! reader)

warning - cult activities, fake religion, manipulation, non-con (forced touching/kiss), light self-harm topics and death (please keep yourself safe and do not read if you're uncomfortable!)

note - tried something dark? but again please be careful of both your mental and physical health ^^

what is the true definition of god? a deity with powers beyond human comprehension. a timeless source of all creations and a presence to which all souls inevitably return. that’s the title given to [name][last name]

from your first words to your first steps, you were destined to be ‘god’. your family craved power leading to them creating a false cult with followers who would kiss the ground you walked on. you were seen as a gifted being, the purest form of life, tucked away from the prying eyes of the potential corrupters of the world

you hated it. every day felt like a hell of a show. you weren’t given any freedom and were constantly exploited for your family’s selfish acts. your body and soul were trapped behind a simple curtain as your ‘followers’ bowed before your throne, chanting your name fervently. you were adorned by the finest clothes and jewellery, sitting high and mighty listening to the concerns of your ‘followers’

you glanced over to your family who proudly stood beside you. no amount of pleading eyes would set you free from the world they created. you locked eyes with your younger brother who sent you a wicked smile. shivering, you turned back to the problems the followers were spinning about.

“now it’s time for our god’s blessing”

your father announced loudly and the room roared in cheers. praises left and right, you were once again in the spotlight as your followers chanted for you. you shaky reached your kimono and slowly undid it. this was something you hated. greedy eyes watch you pull your kimono down, just enough to expose your left shoulder. you felt disgusted, almost like an object bought for people to stare at. a property of your family with no voice of your own.

against your will, your mother instructed each of the followers to kiss your left shoulder for a longer life. one by one, their sloppy mouths tainted your shoulder. you closed your eyes and turned your head to the right, wishing and hoping someone could hear your prayers for being freed. you wanted this torture to end.

and your prayers were answered. the door burst open, revealing none other than yuuta okkotsu, a special-grade sorcerer from jujutsu tech. you’ve heard stories of someone as strong as the gojo satoru. there he stood, not too far from you. your father quickly tugged your arm and pushed you out of the hall. looking back, you see the rest of the family running away in different directions. none daring to reach for you. it was clear—yuuta was here for everyone, yet nobody seemed concerned about you.

drawing his katana and summoning rika, yuuta turned the hall into a bloodbath. one by one, your followers' desperate cries echoed into your ears as you pulled yourself into one of the chambers. you couldn’t even reach the bed before collapsing on the floor. it wouldn’t be long before yuuta managed to remove almost everyone. he cursed himself for letting your family run away from his grasp. now he had to find the ‘god’. he didn’t have to search much

he entered a chamber and saw you lying on the floor. he stood there and examined you. you looked pale, almost like you hadn’t eaten in days. just what type of cult was this? you weakly cranked your head to see the sorcerer stand at the door

“you’re here to kill me aren’t you?”, you asked

your eyes were dull almost like you had no energy or will to fight back. the twisted cult made you their prisoner, their so-called ‘deity’. your voice lacked any hint of fear, just mere acceptance of your situation. yuuta’s heart ached, pity written all over his face

“don’t pity me sorcerer”, you murmured with a dry laugh

yuuta gripped his sword tighter and stared at you, a person broken and used. he could feel anger rising, you deserved better, not whatever freak show this place ran. he approached you closer and bent down to sit on the ground beside you

“can i lay my head on your lap? that’s my last request before dying… i've never felt loved or cared for. i just want to be comforted before i die”

yuuta gulped heavily and swore his heart had stopped for a minute. he had never been asked such an odd request. he complies, pulling you closer to him and gently placing your head, cradling you as if you were made of glass. you felt tears well up in your eyes from his gentle touches, it almost felt like feathers swiping past your face

“you’re pretty handsome up close”, you remarked, a faint smile touching your lips.

yuuta looked down and blushed at your words. were you always this blunt? no, not really. you always spoke carefully and most of your words would have been rehearsed beforehand by your family. yet here you were, acting like a complete high school girl fawning over her crush

“you’re not going to let me hear you?”, you whispered

you slowly brought your hand up to crash his face. you couldn’t believe you’d be spending your last few breaths with a stranger who was your so-called ‘enemy’. yuuta didn’t utter a word nor did he deny your touches. he let you express your final desires, contemplating on what to do with you

“i don’t want to kill you”, yuuta spoke

“i can save you! just come with me and you can join the juj-”

you silenced the boy by lifting your head from his lap, capturing his lips in a hungry kiss. desperation coated your thoughts, and your hands roamed over his chest, tracing the shapes of his hidden muscles. yuuta hesitated but then surrendered to the kiss, tasting the salty remnants of your tears. a soft moan escaped him as you gently sucked on his lower lip, seeking deeper contact. entranced by your soft lips, he failed to see the flags his body was alarming

keeping him distracted, your fingers subtly moved towards his katana, pulling it closer. the weapon’s cold steel against your skin contrasted sharply with the heat of the moment. you deepened the kiss, feeling yuuta responding, as if he were drunk. you broke the kiss to catch your breath and you watched yuuta panting hard, almost like you knocked the breath out of his lungs

“you’re too handsome to spout nonsense you know?”

this was what you had always craved—a moment of connection, however brief, with someone who could see you as more than just a 'god.' with that you pulled him in for another kiss, poisoned by the adrenaline rush yuuta gave you. no second thoughts, you drew his katana and swung it, a sharp and clean blow on your neck. yuuta opened his eyes in horror, breaking the kiss seeing you dead. yet you looked so satisfied. content that you were finally freed

“i kissed a curse and now a dead person.. and it had to be a french kiss”, yuuta groaned pulling your still body closer to his chest, lips messed up by your lipstick

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m-ilkiee · 5 months ago

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Pervert: Okkotsu Yuuta x Female Reader

summary: you know yuuta is a sweet, kind and socially awkward guy, but you had no idea he was also a... pervert?

warnings: aged up! Yuuta (Yuuta is 22 and reader is 19), college/university au, noncurse au, dark content, smut/nsfw, heavy dubious consent, female reader, perverted/toxic reader, perv! Yuuta, masturbation (male and implied female), panty theft, noncon vouyeurism, mention of sex toy, slight violence, panty eating, cunnulingus, face sitting, face riding, fingering.

r-18+ not suitable for anyone below the age of 18

wc: 2.2k

[masterlist] || [taglist] || [mainpage]

authors note: if you liked this, consider reblogging, sending asks and/or commenting your thoughts on it, it would be really appreciated ♡

YOU wouldn't have suspected that your borderline insomniac roommate was also a perverted fucker.

YUUTA was a dirty, panty-stealing creep who you just caught red handed with your panties pressed to his nose while he fucked his fist eagerly.

You stood in front of his doorway watching him, head thrown back in ecstasy, his eyes squeezed shut as his cock twitched in his grasp. Without another word, you immediately ran away from his room door with a hand to your mouth to stifle your cursing, the feelings of shame and horror dawning on you at once.

You knew that there was something suspicious about Okkotsu Yuuta, the genius of the Tokyo metropolitan university coming from a well-off family, who had such high marks he earned multiple scholarships. No one can be THAT talented without being fucked up one way or another, but you had assumed he was the exception.

You were appalled by his actions because you thought Yuuta would be different from the other disgusting college dude bros you had the unfortunate chance of meeting. He was supposed to be different; sweet, innocent, quiet and gullible to ignore that his shirts go missing and reappear in his drawer neatly folded, unaware of the fact that it was you that took them to inhale his scent while you buried your fingers inside your cunt.

It was supposed to be you that would be the perverted one, that would seduce him into your bed to do unquestionable things to him.

He was a degenerate like the rest of them.

That man that you caught masturbating was not the Yuuta that you imagined. No, he was more disgusting than any man you've met by just his singular action of getting off from your dirty underwear.

Filthy.

And it was even more disgusting that instead of thinking of how to move to another place or call the police probably, you were diving your hands into your night trousers. The memory of him pumping his veiny pale erect cock, with an angry dark red mushroom tip dripping with precum, shirt caught between his teeth and pants hung low enough that he could touch himself had you soaked.

You hated that your thighs trembled at the sight of his length, arousal leaking out of your sex. You should be grossed out, not all hot and bothered panting his name in the bathroom with your fingers playing with your clit while you clenched around nothing. You couldn't deny how sexy that scene was playing right in front of you, the cute guy everyone secretly had a crush on -including you, losing his fucking mind over your panties, sniffing it like it's the best thing in the world.

It feeds into your ego a little bit. A whole lot actually.

At the back of your mind, you wonder what you could get from blackmailing the school’s best student.

THE next day, it was awkward seeing Yuuta happily making breakfast with those dirty hands of his as if you hadn't seen him palm his cock with them before. You wanted to throw up, unable to contain your disgust when he dropped the plate of food in front of you. As much as it feels kind of hypocritical of you, the fact that he stole your undies to masturbate to instead of just fucking asking you made you feel violated.

A frown crossed his face as he looked at your reaction, clearly shocked at your lack of enthusiasm for his food. "You don't like pancakes?" He asked, clearly confused at your actions.

He didn't flinch when you threw the food at him only for it to land on the floor, shards of the ceramic plate scattering everywhere. He stayed still as you walked up to him and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to your furious face.

"How. Dare. You?" You spat out with venom, your grip tightening. "How dare you pretend that everything is alright when I saw what I saw yesterday?" You screamed at the unresponsive man. "You’re a disgusting perverted creep that gets off from MY underwear!" Your glare becomes more hateful as you force shout. "And you think cooking breakfast and pretending nothing happened will make it go away?"

The entire house was quiet, save for your heavy breathing wafting through his ears after you poured your heart out. It was unnerving the way Yuuta was unresponsive despite you manhandling him, his eyes darkening with each passing moment and his aura changing into a more sinister one. You tried to stand your ground, yelling at him to fucking talk to you, despite your mind screaming back that he has an ulterior motive.

He took out his phone and unlocked it, turning the phone around to reveal the thumbnail of a video; it was you sitting on your bed, wearing only Yuuta's dress shirts and holding something in your hand -horror settling in your bones once you realize that it was your bullet vibrator.

Your eyes widened as you took the phone from his hand and pressed play, your voice chanting Yuuta's name repeatedly and how you wished it was him making you feel good. Embarrassment and fear flooded your face as you watched yourself masturbate in Yuuta's shirt, a shirt you lied that you hadn't seen in the laundry when he asked you. That shirt smelt so much like him and you, as usual, couldn't resist just leaving it there without using it for just a session or two before returning it back.

'Yuuta's intelligent, but not that smart, he isn't gonna think I'm with it anyways' You always told yourself. God, you were so so wrong.

Your eyes slowly trailed back up to the unamused expression of Okkotsu Yuuta, staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights. Shaking, you put the phone aside and hung your head in shame.

Your hypocrisy has finally caught up to you.

"We're both depraved and disgusting perverts." You murmured, covering your face with your hands at the utter humiliation you had just witnessed. At this point, you’re sure you should just move out and never speak to him again. "You've known about this for a while, haven't you?"

Yuuta is silent, making your heartbeat in your chest as your thoughts flew in your head. While both of you were gross perverts, Yuuta was the only one who had evidence while you had nothing to pin on him. Normally, you would assume that he would never be the kind of guy to blackmail you, but what other reason would he have done it other than to have you cornered.

And if you tried to tell anyone, who are they going to believe? The school’s darling who happens to be on the dean’s list who has video evidence of you masturbating to his shirt or you?

You hate the answer in your head.

Taking his silence as an avenue, you decided to try and negotiate with him. Even perverts had some sort of humanity left in them, and if he had kept that video secret for so long, it meant there was truly something Okkotsu wanted from you. “Alright Yuuta. You win.” You sighed, not bothering to look at him as you started negotiating “Can we discuss this at least? I know you’re holding evidence of me doing…” it leaves a sour taste in your mouth when confronted with the fact you’ve just been caught, but there’s nothing you can do about it. Not when your fate is out of your hands. “... Just before we do irreparable damage at least.”

You’re met with another wave of silence as Yuuta gives you a once over and for a second your heart drops when you assume he might not give you a chance.

“Of course we can...” Yuuta, ever merciful, finally replied. “.. discuss this like adults. Let’s go upstairs and talk about it? My room is very private.”

If you weren’t so desperate to get that video out of his possession, you would have seen where this was going. But alas, his innocent and rational sounding voice lured you into a false sense of security and you nodded in agreement.

THIS was not the idea of discussing it as adults you had in mind.

Moans of pleasure escaped your lips as Yuuta took a long sniff of your panties before darting out his tongue to lick your soaking wet crotch through it. His lips began peppering kisses and sucking every inch of your clothed crotch. “I’ve waited for this moment,” he hums in between kisses and licks, sending waves of pleasure down your spine.

His hands dug hard into your thighs, nail crescents imprinting on your skin as he greedily licked and teased you from the barrier, his cock twitching painfully from the scent, the taste and the moans escaping from your lips. For a moment, you thought that he was suffocating when he paused and you worried that maybe agreeing to sit on his face was a bad idea - after all, you've never done this before, until you felt long fingers shifting your panties aside and his tongue inside your wet cunt.

"Relax" was all he said when you yelped and jumped, strong veiny hands gripping on your thighs tightly before rocking your hips against his face with much vigor. You didn't know when moans of "please Yuuta, don't stop" escaped your lips or when your hips began to move according to his rhythm as well, desperate for pleasure. Your eyes rolled back when he decided to even be a bigger menace and circle your clit lazily with his thumb, picking up the pace seconds after he started. It was worth hearing your voice crack and only breathy moans escaping your lips, sending it right down to his leaking cock.

He's never been this hard before or this excited, you taste amazing on his tongue and you're even rocking his face like there's no tomorrow.

"I'm gonna cum soon, Yuuta-" you managed to cry out. "Are you okay with that?" You ask in between pants while riding his face. Even in your euphoria, you were worried that suddenly cumming all over his face would completely ruin the mood for him and that'll be the end of whatever you two were about to have before it even began. "Yuuta can you hear me? Are you sure you want me to cum in your … you know-"

"That's the whole point, fuck!" he muffled, rocking you faster to bring you closer to your orgasm, smiling a bit when you gasped in shock at the new rhythm before matching his movements. You swear he was enjoying this way more than you were, his voice slightly breaking. "Hurry up and do it babe, let me taste you, please-"

Without fail, the new pace brought you to the edge much quicker. Your head was spinning with all the sensation of pleasure filling up your body, from your toes to your head until the coil snapped. Relief washed over you as you rode out your orgasm while just repeating "thank you, Yuuta, thank you thank you, thank you …" over and over again until you stopped, legs trembling. You attempted to slip off Yuuta's body when you felt two hands grip your thighs tight to hold you in place.

"Yuuta?" You asked in confusion as his nails dug in deeper. Wasn’t this a two way transaction that the both of you would be done and over with so that you could pack your bags. "What are you doing? Aren't we done? I've already cum, it's your turn-"

You could hear him laugh between your thighs, the vibration causing aftershocks to your core. From your thighs, he made eye contact with you briefly as he spoke. "Who told you we're done?" His voice was strained, making your blood drain from your head.

"Huh? But you're- AH WAIT YUUTA I'M NOT… TOO SENSITIVE-"

Your cries fell on deaf ears as he began sucking on your clit and inching his fore and middle finger into your wet cunt till they hit the right spot. Before you know what's happening, your body is spasming as he fingers your cunt and sucks on your clit expertly, making the loudest, slurping and squelching noises. You're humping him desperately, your breathy moans indicating another high, nearly driving him mad with how hot you looked above him.

It was perfect.

A sweet face, tired eyes and a soft voice, who wouldn't think that he was such a pure, simple person?

He used to take offense whenever Maki always said that he could commit murder and get away with it because of how pathetic he looks, but as your panties had gone missing from your hamper and you didn't even think of accusing Yuuta, neither did you know that he knew it was you who stole twelve of his shirts and returned them, he realized that whatever charm he had was a blessing in disguise.

To you, he was none the wiser. You were so confident in your ability to pretend you weren’t even slightly interested in him that he wouldn’t suspect a thing.

But Yuuta always knew. He was always observant, keeping hidden cameras to watch you when his shirts were suspiciously disappearing and reappearing until his simple surveillance turned into a dirty little habit of jerking off to your performances and justifying his actions with you starting it first.

Maybe having such a pathetic face wasn't such a bad thing after all.

"That's it pretty girl, make a mess all over my face.”

taglist: @officiallyjaehyuns @haikyuusboringassmanager @ilybbg @cockonoi @rindou24689 @short-cxke @kokoch4n3l @GenAwi @getonite @anxious-chick @reiners-milkbiddies @gh0stgirl333 @raven-nevra @tenjikusstuff4 @manchie55 @kawaiikoalagarden @straightfromheaven @ilovetwodmen @lovelyartistz @fushiqruo @megumisdivinedogs

divider by: @rookthornesartistry

#yuuta okkotsu #yuuta x reader #okkotsu yuuta #yuuta okkotsu smut #yuuta smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fandom #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk yuuta okkotsu #okkotsu yuuta smut #yuuta x reader smut #jjk yuuta #yuuta okkotsu x you #jjk x you

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zorosdimples · 5 months ago

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꒰ OKKOTSU YUUTA X ITADORI YUUJI X READER ꒱

minors do not interact—i will block you! cw: threesome, anal, cunnilingus; reader has a vagina. note: brief okkoita fluff—but make it sexual (thank for rotting my mind @yutaleks❕)

None of you are going to last long.

It’s impossible, you think to yourself, as you ride Yuuji’s flushed face. Rolling your hips with fuzzy, heavy-lidded contentment, you watch Yuuta prep the younger man with three lithe fingers that glisten with lube and desire.

Bone-deep devotion licks its way up your spine and curls around your ribcage, prying open your chest and settling in your heart. Witnessing your partners love one another—and you, by extension—fills you with a giddy delirium more precious than gold. Ambling honey fills your lungs and makes each breath cloying.

Pleased with his work, Yuuta positions himself and teases Yuuji’s stretched hole with his cockhead. He eases inside with careful, measured strokes, cool digits rubbing soothing circles onto Yuuji’s freckled hips. Muffled whimpers and moans sound beneath you, resonating in your core to send quaking tremors through your limbs.

Just as you lose balance and begin to tip forward, Yuuta catches you in an embrace; your lips surge to meet his in a sloppy kiss with too much tongue. You share a breathless chuckle—forehead to forehead—when your teeth click together.

When your mouths finally part, Yuuta presses Yuuji’s knees to his shoulders, folding him in half. Yuuta fucks hard and deep, jet mane falling over his face. Caught up in his own euphoria, the man beneath you parts from your pussy to babble demandingly: “M-more, hard—harder, faste—”

“Yuuji.”

The endearment (reserved for only the tenderest moments) is clipped and authoritative; it holds little of Yuuta’s usual warmth and softness. His eyes are harsh, a rogue, unforgiving wave amidst a calm sea. It’s a pointed warning: finish what you started. And it’s effective. Yuuji swallows a whine and flushes mottled rose down to his collarbone, a picture of unfettered need.

You reach a hand back to tug at Yuuji’s dusty strands, grinding down on his face. You gasp his name as he suckles on your folds and plays with your entrance before returning to your clit. A pleased hum rumbles Yuuta’s pale chest.

“Good boy,” he praises while pushing his hair back. “Keep it up and I’ll fill your cute ass.”

(Yuuji’s hole flutters at the thought.)

Yuuta has always been the most composed of you three: polite, intelligent, kind, pragmatic. But there’s a vulnerability that you and Yuuji coax out of him; you encourage him to live in the moment, to abandon decorum and to lose himself in pleasure. And if his creased brow and ragged breath is anything to go by, he’s clinging to composure by a thread.

The air is stifling—heady and ripe with the heat of three intertwined bodies, each seeking their own end. Yuuta thrusts and Yuuji licks and you ride until it feels like your thighs are going to give out. When Yuuji finally slips a few fingers into your heat and suckles gently on your clit, you fall apart at the seams, arousal coating his hot, greedy tongue.

After wriggling free from Yuuji’s bruising hold, you climb off of his face and grasp his neglected cock. It’s heavy in your hand and mauve at the tip; when you tug his foreskin down, you’re rewarded with a fat pearl of pre. You lean down and hold his gaze through wet eyelashes as you press a wet kiss to his tip. Then, you settle beside him, whispering filth in his ear (loud enough for Yuuta to hear and nearly orgasm to).

Only moments after you begin stroking his shaft, Yuuji crests with a throaty cry. In the aftermath, he seeks the warmth of your lips. Yuuta enjoys the scene—his two lovers with tears shimmering on their cheeks, messily swapping spit—before spilling his seed. He fucks Yuuji through his high until his spend drips into a frothy pool on the sheets.

You relax into Yuuji’s side and smear kisses against his neck before resting your eyes. Movement on the bed causes you to stir; two men hover over your prone form, fisting their still-throbbing cocks.

“You didn’t think we were done—did you?”

#a little smut before i make my return to the dash…#i feel like i’ve been gone forever so i hope y’all are still interested in this #short but sweet ig????? or spicy. whatever #moresomes are not my forte so pls be kind!#yuuta <3 #yuuji <3 #yuuji x reader #yuuta x reader #jjk smut #okkoita #༄ kae writes

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banjjakz · 1 year ago

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convection currents ; yuuta x GN!reader

“Am I important to you, Okkotsu-san?” God, he can’t stand it. The way you look at him, the uneven lilt in your fragile, quavering voice; it makes him want to bury himself alive inside of you. “Yuuta,” he says. “Just ‘Yuuta’ is fine.”

word count: 7.6k

warnings: horizontal hanky panky, obsession, possessive tendencies, unhealthy relationships, codependency, semi graphic descriptions of violence, major character death

‪��‬ read on ao3 ‪♡‬

likes + reblogs appreciated!

Yuuta wants to like you.

And he does – like you, that is. He really, really does.

But there have been some moments that give him pause.

Don’t get him wrong! You’re sweet, kind, doting, attentive, and very clearly an anxious bundle of painful self-awareness. He finds comfort in the kindred connection between your loner spirits. Training is made infinitely easier when he steals a glance at the gentle flash of your sweet smile, the soft flutter of your hair in the breeze, the twinkle of your laugh, floating through the air as a windchime’s ephemeral melody serenades the breeze. Everything about you seems to be perfectly enveloped and embedded within his daily reality at Tokyo Tech; natural, easy, right. That is what it feels like, to be at your side.

The budding affection between the two of you kicks his foolish, stuttering heart into overdrive. How long has it been, since the blood pumping through his veins was motivated by a sensation other than mortal terror?

You make him want to envision a reality wherein he’s embedded into the fabric of the living, breathing world, rather than continue to occupy his perch as a pariah, perennially scapegoated to the periphery.

Each sidelong glance thrown your way is accompanied by the erratic twitch of his clammy hands, as he tries and fails to pay attention during one of Gojo’s rambling, nonsensical lectures. The light in his eyes revives when you call his name. Innards undulating in and out of place, he tracks your body’s every movement, your muscles contorting fast as quicksilver during scrimmages, lethal and alluring all at once.

These are some of the objectively positive aspects of his attraction to you; the things that pull him from his bed in the morning, calling to him like the abyss compels a creature of the night to rise from its coffin.

And then, there are the more…er, complex moments.

“Did you just come back from a mission, Okkotsu-san?”

Like today, for example. Yuuta had just arrived back on campus after a fun afternoon spent with Toge traversing around Tokyo, patronizing various cafes and konbinis. You were lingering at the entrance of the dormitory, back to the front door, effectively coming between him and his bed.

“Ah, no. I was with Inumaki. We were hanging out for a bit.”

“Where?”

“Just in the city…”

“What did you do?”

He stills, uncertain. “Um…that’s…”

“I’m sorry.” Your head ducks in shame, hiding your face from his quizzical glance. “It’s been hard adjusting to student life as a mid-year transfer. I keep up well enough in classes, and on missions, but I don’t think any of the other students like me all that much. Forgive me, Okkotsu-san. To be honest, I’m jealous of how easily you get along with Inumaki-san and Maki-san.”

Of course. How could he assume anything different?

As a non-lineage sorcerer, you were haphazardly discovered by one of the senior sorcerers on a mission gone south and roped into the jujutsu world without prior knowledge of its existence. From a firsthand perspective, he of all people should be able to understand how isolating that must be.

Kicking himself for his judgemental first reaction, Yuuta forces his skeleton to release the tension it harbors. “No, don’t worry. Have you been sleeping well? Did you eat dinner?”

Sheepishly, you shake your head.

This is how he finds himself alone, with you, in a secluded alcove on the outskirts of campus. The afternoon has matured into a thick, syrupy evening, the sky bruised with a smattering of warm hues. You sit on the grassy bank as a pair, shoulder-to-shoulder, your union celebrated by the rhythmic thrum of the cicadas’ song.

“Here, take it.” He offers you the last flavored onigiri leftover from his spoils of konbini adventures.

You protest, waving your hands in front of you. “No, no, no. I’m fine with just a plain one. Please. I don’t want to cause you any more trouble.”

“Plain is my favorite,” he lies. “I don’t even like yaki.”

“...Then why did you have one in your bag?”

“Haha! That’s a great question! I don’t know!” Beet red, Yuuta scratches the back of his head.

Out of mercy, and perhaps pity, you graciously accept the yaki onigiri. Munching in companionable quietude ensues for several minutes, as you both watch the sun impale itself on the dark horizon, bleeding out across the sky in dark, inky tones.

Without sitting face-to-face, it’s easier to speak to you, somehow. The insistent pressure on his chest lifts long enough for some words of actual substance to slip forth. “It’s hard, the first year.”

You remain silent.

“My first year was hell, too. Although that’s probably because I was being haunted.”

“By who?”

He blinks, your question knocking him off balance. Not by “what,” but by “who” had he been haunted? You’ve always been observant. This is why you’ve survived for so long.

“Um, it’s a long story… I’ll tell you in full one day. For now, I’ll just say that there was someone very special to me when I was a child… and it was hard for her to let go of me, when push came to shove.”

“Ah. I see.”

Although August has yet to conclude, the air around him is significantly chillier than what is characteristic of Tokyo’s late-summer hazy heat. Yuuta shivers, pulling his knees up to his chin.

“Yeah. But, um, anyways. If you need someone to talk to…to be by your side… I would like to be that person for you.” He utters your name like a prayer, too concentrated on not stuttering to be embarrassed at the earnest tremble in his voice. “I wish I had a confidante when I first got here. It would have saved me a lot of trouble.”

“A confidante? But didn’t you have your friend?”

Your reply jolts him into looking at you. The expression on your face tells him that you truly mean it as a genuine inquiry.

“Well, um. I was being haunted…and Rika – er, she didn’t really listen to me. She actually got a little overprotective, I think.”

“Do you think she was evil?”

“No!” The denial explodes from his mouth before Yuuta can even fully process the nuance of the question posed. “No,” he repeats, at an appropriate volume, this time. “She was clingy, and protective, and possessive, and honestly violent, but she wasn’t evil. I loved her. I think a part of me always will.”

Love? What is he doing talking to you, alone, at night, about love? How embarrassing. He hadn’t meant to say all that!

Quickly, he stuffs his mouth with the remainder of his onigiri. No more talking. Just chewing.

If you are perturbed by his sentimental ramblings, you show no sign of it. If anything, your face remains impassive, serene, undisturbed like the surface of a tranquil pond.

“You loved her for that, then. Was she haunting you if you were in love?”

After he finishes choking down the final, sticky remnants of his dinner, Yuuta frowns, mulling over your words which are heavy by the virtue of their implication, yet hang and sway in the air as an empty noose dangles from the gallows.

“...I don’t know.” Yuuta says, at length. “That’s what I was diagnosed with when I came here. And it was hard for me to function, back when Rika was still here. I didn’t have any friends. And people close to me got hurt a lot.”

“It sounds like she was always trying to protect you… even when you were apart. I only wish one day, I find someone who would have the capacity to care for me like that…”

“You want that?”

“I do.” Not an ounce of hesitation in your firm, forthcoming reply. “I’ve spent my whole life as something worth less than notice or acknowledgement. Always feeling invisible, never having anyone – not even one person – who cared about me. Up until this point, I’ve lived life wanting to die every day.”

For lack of a better reply, Yuuta simply asks: “What changed?”

“...I met you, Okkotsu-san.”

Oh, wow.

It’s kind of funny – where other people describe feeling hot, Yuuta has always been chronically, terminally cold. Your words induce a rapidly onsetting deep-freeze which permeates every layer of his skin, every molecule of his bones, every wretched atom of marrow lying dormant inside of him, all of it, every fiber of being rooted to the spot in an indescribable emotion.

“I–I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I apologize for making you uncomfortable.”

That’s wrong. “No, you didn’t! You didn’t, I swear. Just… um, I’m also a person who is lonely, like you described. So I’m not used to, err, being, ah, important. To people? I guess?”

“Oh… I see.”

Clearly, the higher function of critical thought has abandoned him; this is the only explanation for how he reaches to grab your hands, sending the half-eaten yaki onigiri tumbling down to the dark earth beneath your anxiously shifting feet. He squeezes you, tightly, and is delighted in a morose sort of way to find your digits even colder than his.

“Let’s teach each other. How to be important to someone else.”

“Am I important to you, Okkotsu-san?”

God, he can’t stand it. The way you look at him, the uneven lilt in your fragile, quavering voice; it makes him want to bury himself alive inside of you.

“Yuuta,” he says. “Just ‘Yuuta’ is fine.”

;

Field missions have been a part of his daily life as a sorcerer since the day he arrived at Tokyo Tech. Battle has always been challenging for all the obvious reasons, but never before has Yuuta had to deal with the added hardship of fighting alongside you.

This, of course, is not meant to imply that you aren’t able to hold your own; on the contrary, your physical and cursed prowess has granted you the rank of semi-special grade despite this being your first year enrolled in any kind of formal jujutsu schooling. Your cursed technique is innate to your personality and sensibilities, which helps. But even if that weren’t the case, you would still be one of Tokyo’s top-performing students.

Missions are difficult because, despite all of this being true, Yuuta is powerless to curb the instinct to protect you during fights.

It manifests in small ways, at first: insisting to be paired up with you for assignments, always volunteering to partner up when splitting from the larger group during an investigation– things like this.

His behavior starts to stray into problematic territory the longer he is allowed to get away with it, unchecked.

“After Ijichi casts the veil, we’ll sweep the building. Inumaki and Yuuta, you two take the upper levels. We’ll do the bottom half,” orders Maki, gesturing between you and herself.

Immediately, Yuuta objects. “No. I’ll do the bottom half. You and Inumaki should go up together.”

“What?”

“I have a phobia of heights,” lies Yuuta, shamelessly. “It will impact my performance.”

“I have literally never heard you talk about being afraid of heights before.”

“Shake sushi,” agrees Inumaki.

You remain silent, pupils trembling, bottom lip severed between your teeth in a display of bashfulness reserved only for Yuuta’s blatant favoritism, which he wields frequently, in hopes to catch a even a single glimpse of you just as you appear now.

“I’m self-conscious about it,” he laughs, scratching the back of his head. “Thank you both for understanding.”

“Wait! Okkotsu, we didn’t–”

And with that, he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you away with him, sprinting into the abandoned love hotel before Maki or Inumaki can prevent you from absconding.

The two of you are laughing, tickled as usual at the effects of pissing Maki the hell off. Consequences will rain down in due time, no doubt, but for now, it feels best to bask in each other’s presence.

Once through the front door, Yuuta halts to an easy jog, guiding you past the cobweb-covered front desk, around the decrepit scraps of the once-ostentatiously decorated lobby, all the way to the far back corner, where a solid, heavy metal door obfuscates the emergency stairway.

“Oh, it looks jammed… Should we–”

Your stumped musing is cut off by the ricocheting cacophony of Yuuta’s boot violating the door. The metal itself bends and warps, caving in on itself in a hurry to make way for the unstoppable force of the sorcerer’s impassioned blow. He didn’t have to activate any cursed energy.

“Let’s go!” Chirps Yuuta, cheerfully.

In another context, maybe, it would be appropriate for his pulse to spike, for his hands to clam, for his breath to quicken, at the prospect of being alone with you. However, the reality of the current situation is that Yuuta is dragging you down into some dark, unknown depth, where neither of you will be disturbed. As you descend the concrete flights, visibility is increasingly hard to come by, and this, too, excites Yuuta. He is now forced to rely more heavily upon his other senses, which naturally prioritizes the scent of your sweat; the sound of your rabbit-paced heartbeat; the feeling of the paper-thin skin of your inner wrist; the taste of his own desire.

The cursed spirit they’re looking for has been wreaking havoc on the surrounding commercial strip, to the point where several businesses have had to draw their shutters in the wake of the love hotel’s primary foreclosure. Evidently, recurring, unresolved muder-suicides did not bode well for business.

“Um…if we’re supposed to be searching for the curse behind all of the couples’ deaths, shouldn’t we be looking in the bedrooms?”

Your voice echoes, tinny, in the thick, humid air of the emergency stairwell. They haven’t hit the bottom yet.

“Eh, maybe. This doesn’t feel like that kind of case, though.”

“Huh? How do you figure?”

Although moving swiftly, at the speed of light, your footfalls make barely a whisper against the aged concrete steps. Still, it’s enough for Yuuta’s hypersensitive ears to pick up on. Deprived of the sight of you, he drinks in the intimation of your existence, greedily.

“Heat rises,” he says, slowing pace as they approach what can only be the door to the boiler room, which has been left ominously ajar. “Cold sinks.”

“...Um, I’m not sure I follow.”

Stealthily, he slithers inside the slender crack between frame and the door itself. The angle of its opening doesn’t even waver. He pulls you along with him, replying as he moves, “Crimes of passion carry a kind of hot, frenetic energy. Panic, impulse, instinct – all of those things have lots of, hmm, friction? Like an explosion. Really hot at first, dangerously hot, and then it fizzles out into nothing.”

Unfamiliar pieces of enormous machinery tower in the dark. As much as you are able to while crouching so low to the floor, you take care not to trip over any errant pipes.

“So this isn’t a hot curse?”

“No,” Yuuta confirms. “The curse–” murder-suicides in a love hotel, how on-the-nose could it be? “–is premeditated by nature. Obsession solidifies over time. To act on that is a calculated choice.”

He stops short. You would’ve crashed straight into his shoulder blades if he weren’t painfully cognizant of your whereabouts at all times. He preemptively steadies you on your feet before you can even begin to stumble.

“At some point in this building, someone,” says Yuuta, quietly, as he cautiously eyes the opaque blackness before them, “spent a lot of time thinking about their beloved.”

“How can you tell?”

“Cold sinks,” Yuuta repeats.

Violence explodes, seemingly, out of nowhere. The curse attacks all at once, aiming perfectly towards you as though it had been lying in wait, stalking your every move. Yuuta always takes point whenever you pair up together, because he always insists on taking the first hit. It is this presupposition that leaves you wide open, vulnerable for attack from behind.

“Yuuta!!” You shriek, desperately dodging the grotesque appendages reaching out to you. Your body hits the floor just seconds shy of what would have been a gory fatality.

When you lift your head to identify the exact form of the curse, you still in uncomprehending terror.

“...Yuuta?”

How can this be?

Not even seconds prior, Yuuta had been a whole, living, breathing, intact person, guiding you as solidly as your own personal anchor. Why, then, does he appear to you now as a corpse, brain matter spilling down his temples, bloated limbs belying days of decay, flesh pale and tender and loose around the bone.

No, no, no. Had you been too late? Had the curse gotten to him first? Are you next?

Despair fills you, overflowing your sensibilities with the intrusive desire to rid the world of your miserable existence. How could you have let him slip through your fingers? How could you be expected to return to any semblance of a life, with Yuuta gone? You don’t deserve a future without Yuuta – you don’t even want to imagine one.

You’ll do what’s right, and offer your life in penance that you failed to protect his own.

Cursed energy welling within you, threatening to tear you apart at the very seams, you are about to implode with all the conviction of an abandoned lover– but a familiar, desperate cry of your name halts your ministrations.

That was Yuuta’s voice calling out to you.

But there he is, lying before you as nothing more than a desecrated body.

Unless…?

Yuuta calls your name again, sharply, this time in a tone adjacent to something scolding. The fear of disappointing Yuuta outweighs all else. It’s enough to snap you back to reality, to clear your clouded faculties and reveal to you the real Yuuta, who stands on guard just a few paces away, living, breathing, sweating, crouching, preparing for action.

“The curse,” he calls, eyes never leaving the thing in front of you. “It’s the curse. Don’t worry, it’s not real. You’re alive.”

“I’m alive?” You parrot incredulously. “That’s your corpse over there!”

“...Huh? My corpse? But I see yours–” He cuts himself off, face going eerily blank. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Close your eyes. Don’t flinch.”

In your defense, you try your best.

Remaining sightless and motionless is difficult as the rest of your senses are inundated with the disgustingly explicit soundtrack of slaughter. The sound of flesh forcibly sliding apart on the edge of Yuuta’s cursed katana is familiar, at this point, but no less gut-wrenching to bear witness to. When he deals the final blow, the evidence sprays all over the front of you, drenching you from head to toe in what should be the curse’s blood.

And yet, the liquid is frigid. Like you’ve been assaulted by the waves of the cruel, immortal sea.

“You can look now.”

Hesitantly, your eyes flutter open. You’re met with the sight of Yuuta, also covered head to toe in the viscous liquid produced by the corpse’s demise. Now that the exorcism has been completed, the preternatural heaviness is lifted from the building. But still, you struggle to breathe.

“Why didn’t you let me fight?” Something horrible announces itself, crowing from an ugly, dark corner of your mind best kept away from public view. “Was I going to slow you down?”

He sheathes in katana without sparing the gory weapon another glance. The space between your bodies is quickly extinguished, as Yuuta crosses the space in a matter of heartbeats. Blood roars in your ears, drowning out all which does not consist of Yuuta’s fixed gaze, Yuuta’s shaky breath, Yuuta’s pallid, sweaty skin, Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta.

“No.”

A large, wet palm meets your cheek. The soft squelch should be repulsive. Your stomach flips for entirely unrelated reasons.

“Why do you think all those murder-suicides happened?”

The question catches you off guard, but you answer, nonetheless. “The curse.”

“What do you think the curse made people see, for them to do something like that?”

You want to ask what the hell this line of questioning has to do with anything, with the mounting intensity in his stare, with the firm hand on your face, calloused thumb rubbing miniscule half-crescents into the crux of your jaw where the bone and flesh is pliant and breakable, could crack open like the shell of a creature already cooked alive, prepared to be split open for gluttonous consumption–

And then, rudely, the memory of mere moments prior hits you:

You’ll do what’s right, and offer your life in penance that you failed to protect his own.

“Oh,” you whimper, pathetically. “They see– the curse makes them see, um, someone special to them.”

“Not just ‘special,’” Yuuta corrects. From this close you can see the faint trail of blue-green veins spiderwebbing their way from his eyebags, metastasizing every which-way, just underneath his skin. “What is a curse?”

“The coalescence of negative energy secreted by human non-sorcerers.” You rattle off the elementary answer without second thought.

“What kind of curse was this?”

The moisture evaporates from your mouth. “A cold one.”

“Why?”

“‘Obsession solidifies over time. To act on that is a calculated choice,’” you mimic back.

Although, your tone doesn’t quite replicate the self-assured way by which Yuuta had originally imparted the information. No, your voice shakes apart, just as disjointed as the rest of your body feels at this moment.

“What did you see when you looked at the curse?”

He already knows. He wants you to say it. You want to plead for mercy, if only to savor the eroticism of begging for something you know will not be spared for you.

“I saw you, Yuuta.”

The curse’s blood is bitter and cold, like soured juice, when it is thrust upon your tongue. Yuuta is uncaring of the gore coating the both of you, the time-sensitive nature of this mission assignment, the way your knees sway and buckle as the adrenaline begins to leak from your body, replaced by a new, even more exhilarating sensation.

Opaque darkness still shrouds the boiler room; and yet, it isn’t enough to prevent your souls from recognizing one another. Hands wrestle with buttons, fingers grapple with zippers, teeth gnash into flesh, and the two of you take each other apart not with the reckless abandon of lovers under the duress of a transient liaison; no, you are methodological, thorough, all-consumed by the well-marinated desire that has been fertilizing from the moment you first came into contact with one another.

Yuuta throws you down to the floor and moves his body at a preternatural speed so that he beats you there, his hand cradling the back of your skull before it can strike the concrete.

“I saw you too,” he huffs into your mouth.

“You were d-dead…” The way you struggle to say the word is cute. You’re so fucking cute. God, he’s no better than a fucking curse.

It’s impossible to curb the temptation to sink his teeth into your neck, eagerly feeding off of the intoxicating effects of your pained, thrilled squeal. “You weren’t,” he murmurs into the abused flesh, pressing a kiss where he’d just gnawed. “You looked close, but you weren’t dead.”

“...Huh…?”

Can you even think right now? Do you understand what he’s saying to you? How could you possibly grasp the implications of what is transpiring, right now, when you’re laid out on the floor, snow-angeling in the blood and guts and gore of a murdered curse, delirious off of a heady combination of lust and adrenaline and fear?

“You were just barely alive. On the edge.” He moans, rocking the hard line of his body into your own. “Do you know what you said to me?”

“Tell me.”

“You asked me to finish the job.”

Back arching off of the grimy, gritty ground, every fiber of your being reaches out for the fingers that tear at the cloth of your uniform as though it is nothing more than some cheap costuming. “You know what? I knew it wasn’t the real you, when it said that. ‘S not like you.”

He’s monologuing to himself, it seems. You are far beyond the hope of verbally communicating in anything other than your strained, hoarse whines.

“You’d never ask me to do that. You’d stay with me until the very end, wouldn’t you?”

Desperately, hopelessly, you nod, your fingernails carving your intentions into the meat of his shoulders. When had his shirt come off? Did you do that?

Are you the one tearing away the last bits of offending clothing, or is that him? Do you growl in stoked desire as he breaches your entrance, or does that inhuman noise come from the both of you?

When Yuuta is buried inside of you, he feels like he’s finally been laid to rest. There is the warm, comforting embrace often described as death – but instead of an eternal bliss found at the conclusion of his life, Yuuta is able to access this euphoria by burying himself inside of you. You are his headstone, his tomb, his coffin: all of you exists to house the death of all of him, and without him inside of you, you would live on in aimless unfulfillment, anxiously awaiting the day a beautiful boy will come to die under your care and linger with you in eternity.

You are–warm, hot, burning up, self-immolating beneath his fingers. Every thrust forward threatens to scald his hips on your molten flesh.

“Fu-fu-fu-fu-fu–” you stutter, body shuddering to life, rising from the ground, seizing and contorting in strange shapes as you struggle and fail to cope with the insurgence of pleasure coursing through you. “Yuu–ta–”

“Promise me.”

“Wha–”

“Promise me,” he hisses, hands coming to your throat. “Promise you’ll stay. You’re too important to me, I c-can’t lose you too, hnnnnn–”

Promise you, I’ll never leave you, is what you are able to only mouth, breath and voice held captive in his unrelenting grasp. Because you cannot voice it entirely, you pour all the contents of your heart and soul into the sentiment. Fingers rising weakly to clasp onto his, you tighten his grip on your windpipe and take comfort in the drowsy haziness that cradles your consciousness.

When he comes, he holds you to him like he’s afraid you’re going to crawl off and die somewhere else if he doesn’t keep you right where you are, crushed against, his shivering frame, so tightly bound to him that he can hear your diaphragm contract and expand, over and over and over again, each breath cut short by a wheeze or a sob.

Through it all, he cradles you. Naked, bruised, and forever scarred from the sight of not-Yuuta’s rotting corpse, you cling to him and release your sorrows into the dark, empty abyss of the boiler room.

Back and forth, he rocks your body, soothing your nervous system into an illusion of safety. There is no such thing as “safety,” not for jujutsu sorcerers – but together, with limbs intertwined as one, this is the closest you can come to fooling yourselves into hoping, one day, for a safe place. A safe person, even.

“Shhh,” he simpers, thumb swiping your cheek, which is damp from an unholy mixture of cursed blood, sweat, spit, and tears. “We’re together. It’s all okay.”

“T-together…”

“Yeah. Just you and me.”

;

“You don’t think that’s an issue?”

“I’m not saying there isn’t an issue. But we should tread lightly, here. We don’t know what could happen if we interfere.”

“If we don’t interfere, the newbie might die.”

“It won’t get to that point. I won’t let it happen. Oi, don’t blow smoke in my face. That’s unladylike.”

“Don’t lecture me on what’s ‘ladylike,’ cocksucker.”

“Wow! That burns!”

“Come here, I’ll show you what else burns.”

Lingering outside the door to the infirmary, you shift your weight from foot to foot, unsure of the appropriate course of action to take. Clearly, Gojo and Ieiri are in the middle of a conversation that is not meant to be heard by prying ears – not that you can make heads or tails of what they’re talking about, anyways.

All you wanted to do was come see Ieri for your weekly check-up, as was customary following the love hotel mission. The adrenaline must have numbed your pain receptors in the moment, because as soon as you’d arrived back on campus, your entire body felt like you’d been through a grinder.

You were kinda confused, at first, because you didn’t even engage the curse in combat. In due time, of course, you remembered what–or who–had actually bruised your ribs, broken your skin, sprained your joints, left you carrying the contours of his wanting.

Why were they talking about you dying, anyways? Yuuta saved your life. Nothing was going to happen to you as long as he was by your side.

“Hey.”

Jumping out of your skin has started to feel good, kind of. You look forward to Yuuta’s unceremonious greetings as he creeps up on you in silence, futilely waiting for you to detect his concealed presence.

“H-hi,” you demure. Why are you shy? He’s been so far inside of you he practically fused into your skeleton. Blushing because he caught you unawares is ridiculous.

“Aren’t you going to go in?”

Wondering how he knows what you’re here for is pointless. Equally as useless is trying to deduce how he was able to figure out your recurring appointment time. He’s Yuuta – it’s natural for him to acquire knowledge about you, as easily as one picks low-hanging fruit from a tree.

“Umm, I think they’re talking about something.”

He frowns. “About what?”

You hesitate. Should you tell him what you heard? “Ah, I don’t know...”

“Are you sure?”

You remain silent, unsure of how to proceed. Part of you wants to bare your innards at all times, whenever Yuuta is around. It feels natural, like a rabbit’s cowering. On the other hand…

Somehow, the thought of telling Yuuta the truth–yeah, Gojo-sensei and Ieiri-sensei think there’s a chance I might die soon–would not end well for anyone involved. If there was something you truly needed to know, you’re sure your senseis would tell you.

Right?

“Please trust me,” you whisper, only feeling a little guilty. You’re doing it to protect him. If something dangerous is going to happen to you, Yuuta shouldn’t be involved at all. He must live. You must make sure of it.

Reluctantly, he acquiesces, although he insists on accompanying you to your check-up that week. Strangely, neither Gojo nor Ieiri seem surprised that he is here with you, and make no effort to question why. Yuuta is allowed to linger at your sides as Ieiri takes your vitals, reviews the status of your various injuries, and even holds your hand when she scans your cursed energy levels. Thankfully, you are on track to make a perfect recovery.

In fact, not only are you replenishing the strength and ability that had been impaired during the love hotel mission–you are regenerating cursed energy at rates which exceed your natural capacities.

When Ieiri relays this to you, Gojo, who has been lingering in the infirmary for some unknown reason (you suspect it’s simply to annoy Ieiri with his very presence) speaks up: “Do you know what that means, kid?”

“Um…” You start, nervous. Everyone’s eyes are on you. It feels like you’re under a microscope. “I’m moving up a rank?”

Gojo bursts into a fit of giggles, doubling over at the waist. “Wow, what an opportunist! Haha, maybe in the future, if your cursed energy continues to compound exponentially. I’m asking you about the cause. Any idea why you’re suddenly overflowing with power?”

“No.” Your answer is as truthful as it is anxious.

“Typically, a dramatic increase in output like this only occurs after a Binding Vow. Make any life-or-death promises, recently?”

It’s supposed to be a joke, the way Gojo says it. You can tell because his crow’s feet dip down just far enough away from underneath his blindfold that you can tell whenever he smiles with his eyes. And he is smiling, after he cracks the joke. You’re also able to intuit when he stops smiling, as the depressions on his face smooth out into a careful blankness. You are thirty seconds too late to the punchline. Instead of laughing along, you remain damningly silent, and Yuuta shifts uncomfortably at your side.

“Okay,” says Gojo, clapping his hands. “Alright.”

Although you’re fully clothed in your school uniform, it makes you feel chillingly exposed when what feels like all Six of his Eyes bore into the collection of dark marks ringing your neck in a brutal, makeshift collar. Those were not, in fact, the work of a curse.

Yuuta fidgets with the flimsy paper lining the examination bed. You kick your feet like a child in time out.

“You owe me seven thousand yen,” Shoko deadpans.

“Hey! Didn’t we say forty-five?”

“Don’t kid around.”

Am I in trouble? The terrified plea swells to the front of your mouth, begging to escape. You force the words to sit, stay, and curdle on your tongue.

“Can we go now?” Asks Yuuta, uncharacteristically direct.

Given the odd gravity in the room, you don’t expect Gojo’s easy wave of his hand, dismissing the two of you with a flippant hum. Not having to be told twice, you hightail it out of the infirmary, grateful to be released from the constant invasion of privacy and security that is a prolonged existence within the reach of Gojo’s Six Eyes.

Finally alone once more, the training grounds are a welcome reprieve for you and Yuuta, who crash into the grass clearing hand-in-hand, heartbeats synced.

“Did we make a Binding Vow? When we…you know…”

Yuuta’s voice trails off, lamely.

“What if we did? Would you regret it?”

“Huh? No, of course not! It’s just…well–”

“Well, what?”

“That’s kind of permanent,” Yuuta whispers, dark pools of obsidian sorrow holding your gaze in its cruel, captivating clutches. “And we don’t know what will happen if it breaks.”

For one second, the rawness of it hits you. Fear washes down your back, prickling your flesh, raising goosebumps, locking your spine rigidly into place. The two of you had certainly made a life-or-death promise, infused with cursed energy and blood and…other…bodily fluids. To inadvertently perform a Binding Vow meant that the sheer intensity behind both of your wills was purely, wholly devoted to the promise.

Which is why you take a step closer to him, voice steady. “I didn’t make that promise with the intention to break it. Ever.”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “Don’t…you can’t be sure of that.”

“I am.”

“You won’t be able to guarantee it.”

“I will.”

Familiarly calloused hands grab your shoulders, jostling you with charged intention. “You don’t get it! My favorite person in the whole world already left me once. If that happens again, I can’t… I don’t know…”

“Yuuta.” You don’t have to lay a finger on him for his entire body to stand at attention, drawing tall and taught, when you call his name. “I will never leave you, even if I die.”

The ensuing kiss tastes like metal.

Despite the passionate fervor with which he devours you, his mouth his cold, and his digits even more so as they dig into your cheeks, your throat, your waist, your chest, groping and pulling and kneading your flesh to loosen the rigor mortis that has arrested your willingness.

“D-don’t, ah, make any m-more marks…”

Your protest is, at best, unconvincing, the person least of all convinced being yourself, as Yuuta’s teeth and tongue on the tender flesh of your neck make you feel like you’re about to leave your body. “Hnng–Gojos-sensei already knows, I think.”

“Good.” He’s crazed, nipping and slurping at your sensitive soft bits like a man starved. “Let him know. Everyone should know. I shouldn’t even–” he kisses “–have–” he bites “–to say it–” he licks you in between speaking, as though it goes against the grain of his being to part ways with you for more than just a few jagged inhalations.

The ground hits you hard, reprimanding you for your clumsiness with a firm impact on your backside. Yuuta pursues with haste, hands slamming down on either side of your head, ripping the grass in retribution.

“Yuuta,” you hiss, hands flying to his dark mop of hair, trying to reel him back – in vain, of course. “We are outside. In the middle of the day. Anyone could walk by!”

“Don’t care.”

His eyes are glazed, half-lidded, pupils blown wide and deeply dark as a gunshot wound, uncaring of your anxiety as he attempts to dive back into you.

“Wait! What if someone sees me?” Now, he rears back. “I don’t want anyone else to see, Yuuta… only you get to see me like this.”

Even the ants traipsing across the clearing stop dead in their tracks, rendered motionless, silent, at the abrupt onslaught of highly charged cursed energy that washes through every living and non-living thing within a five-mile radius.

“Okay.”

Wordlessly, your world upends as you are thrown over a wide shoulder clad in spotless, wrinkled white. You’ve always thought it was funny – how Yuuta’s uniform never managed to permanently stain itself with any of the gore he frequently encountered, and yet, there was always a noticeable depression in the seams, ever-lurking, complicating the otherwise flawless expanse, evoking a sense of pity.

Even when the shirt flies off, abandoned to crumple sadly in the corner of his bedroom, you can’t get its image out of your head. That spotless white. Those gleaming gold buttons dripping in iridescent rivulets down the front of the garment. Only within the intricate designs etched into their surface is one able to glean the barest hint of blood, staining the metal a pale crimson. If you weren’t looking for it, you wouldn’t notice it.

But you have always sought out his ugly, twisted parts. Even when he tries to hide. Even when he might duck from them himself.

That’s okay.

That’s why he has you.

When he bites you so hard that the wound draws blood; when his palms squeeze around your windpipe so deftly that you lose vision; when pins down your bruised hips, ignoring their wriggling avoidance; when his unquiet nature makes itself known, eclipsing the carefully bashful performance he puts on for his peers so that he might be liked, or loved, even–that is when you feel most connected to him. That is when your affections burn brightest.

And during the comedown, as he holds you close and rocks your brutalized body back and forth and back again, you are well aware that it is he himself who he seeks to soothe.

He doesn’t know, you realize, broken out of your post-coital mental haze with a pointed moment of clarity.

Yuuta has no clue what lurks inside the haunted catacombs of his soul.

What does it say about you, then, that his naivete only serves to further incense your want, smoldering like an inferno brewing at the base of a pyre, threatening to engulf your sorry corpse in entirety?

;

As third year trudges on, instruction takes less time in the classroom, or on campus. More frequently, you find yourself out on missions from sun-up to sundown, running around Tokyo-to and even surrounding prefectures. The grades of the curses you go up against only increase with time, and so, to, does your proximity to mortal danger.

Through it all, Yuuta is present. Indignantly so. Despite your rank as a semi-special grade sorcerer, you have yet to embark solo on an assignment. The pair of you are one combative unit, at this point so intertwined in sentiment and instinct that rarely is it necessary to reach for verbal exchange while engaged in battle. It is as though the reserve of cursed energy you draw from is a pool shared between you, a combination of your innate abilities plus an additional overflow, supplied by the Binding Vow you had consummated all those months ago.

So close are you, now, that Yuuta grows comfortable – confident, even – with your hold on his proverbial leash. These days, he is less neurotic when you inquire as to his whereabouts. Your prying questions provoke within him nothing other than a deep-seated sense of reassurance. He no longer doubts where he stands with you, as he once did when you were still a fresh-faced, mid-year transfer adjusting to life at Tokyo Tech.

In retrospect, he recognizes that he should never have let his guard down.

It’s his fault, really. Entirely his fault. The extra strength provided by the powerful effects of the Binding Vow deluded him into a false sense of security.

He shouldn’t have been so careless with your life. He shouldn’t have strayed so far from your side. He shouldn’t have let you out of his sight. He shouldn’t have left you alone, even if it was only for a split second–not even.

Once again, he has failed to save the most important person in his life. Somehow, losing you is worse than losing Rika. He is no longer a child. He possessed both the skill and ability to save you.

And yet, he had been absent in your time of need.

The one time you’d been off on a mission without him. The one and only time. Principle Yaga’s sorry excuse was that the higher-ups found it strange that you, as a semi-special grade, had never completed a solo assignment. Apparently, your rank was being threatened if you refused any longer to display independent capability.

Well. Now there’s no rank for you to claim, anymore.

After news of your death reaches him, he roams campus like an aimless specter, as though he is the one who has been robbed of life.

In a way, he has. Half of his being has perished. He limps, lopsided, dragging the phantom weight of your body with him wherever he goes.

It takes a while to get used to the absence of your physical, living, breathing manifestation. As a fellow sorcerer, you have been wholly eradicated from the fabric of his reality.

But as a spirit…?

Death is not enough to break a Binding Vow – this, Yuuta knows better than anyone. He retains his augmented cursed abilities, along with your presence. The two of you join once more in battle, as he summons you to protect and guard him in life as he failed to do for you. Your selfless nature has never been more clearly evident. Not a single call goes unanswered, not a single need of his unmet.

Is this a haunting?

No, he doesn’t think so.

When the two of you had still been skittish and shy around one another, nothing more than a pair of innocently covetous children, you’d dared him to reflect on his relationship with Rika. What had been translated to him as a haunting, you reimagined as something more corporeal, something genuine, something worthy of gratitude, and love.

This is how he chooses to think of you – the both of you, together, still joined in perfect union. No matter the fact that you will watch him age, change, develop, and eventually die, one day, should he be so lucky. You do not haunt his waking hours. You do not terrorize his dreams.

You love him in a way that transcends the bounds of space and time.

He has not been cursed. Rather, he has been blessed with your unconditional love.

To earn true forgiveness, he must show you his, as well. You must occupy his every waking thought. You will invade his every intention. You are at the forefront of his mind when he rises with the dawn, and the memory of your breath against the shell of his ear whispers to him good night. You dress him. You urge him to sustenance. You machinate his combat. You heal his wounds. You wipe his tears when he sobs, alone, terribly alone, sobbing into his knees after each time the life of a friend meets a senseless, violent conclusion.

You are still there when he wraps a rough, harried palm around his throbbing arousal, thrusting up into an elusive, now long-gone pleasure. You guide his hands’ journey across the hazardous dips and valleys of his rib cage, the grotesque concave of his stomach, the sharp blades of his hip bones. His skeleton threatens to crawl outside of his flesh. It yearns for something beyond this senseless cycle of bloodshed, grief, and rage.

Never does he feel closer to salvation than when he is on the precipice of ecstasy, dehydrated, underfed, delirious, heart beating so fast that it limits his vision, his lung capacity. When he occupies this liminal space, it is not the brink of orgasm which he straddles. As he approaches climax, he yearns not for an explosion of wet heat, but for the euphoric embrace of a final ending: your arms around him once more, real, tangible, warm.

Until then, he will trudge onwards. Miserably alive. Cold inside and out. Numb to physical pain, constantly inundated with the wounds inflicted on his spirit, his sentiments, his soul.

Solace finds him in the fact that you committed to remain by his side, forever. How could he wallow in total despair when this remains true?

You chose this, after all.

You chose him.

You did.

Didn’t you?

538 notes · View notes

drea-ms · 6 months ago

Text

BABY IM BORED. (blacktop) ITADORI YUUJI.

synopsis. in which a silly rumor on the night road causes the two most unexpected people to get to together. not without any problems that is.

warnings. black top remake. nerd x loser who plays basketball. angst. fluff. comfort. alcohol n weed mentions. oc in this story. shy n grumpy x loud and bubbly. college au. artist x muse. rivals to lovers. street racer au. more to be added later.

( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ [name] and her losers. yuuji and his friends.

001. exes and what not

002. barbie dream house tycoon

003. NOT what i was planning

004. start of a rivalry.

005. todays mission ; have a crush on your rival

006. a challenge to race.

007. preparations and studying.

008. yuuta okkotsu and kyouko yamazaki.

009. hours before the race.

010. blacktop.

011. after hours.

012. rumors and wants.

013. megumi fushiguro and [name] tsukumo.

014. piece of art and unexpected confessions.

015. truths and falses.

016. bored by laufey.

017. end of friendships.

018. misunderstandings and what not.

019. your graduation by modern baseball.

020. beginning of the end.

021. 冬のはなし.

taglist is open! (send asks or comment)

@lysaray @hyenagoated @frumira @mo0nforme @hearts4milan @mixzimi @ashfrommyfire @lylovw @okkvtsu @stxrgiirl @sad-darksoul @bloombb @jayathelostdragon @riellereads @r0ckst4rjk @nyxlai @casabaswrld @strxkbylightning @dremerys @elite-xypher @soy-garbage @shuuji71 @huhsthccvjh @lemonnotade @sc1twi @ikeoksan

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darlingpwease · 2 years ago

Note

It was me! I kidnapped Yuuta, fucked him full, and tied him up! he's not leaving till I get him pregnant >:3c

⌞ 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄 ⌝

you were sure that someone as perfect as he was was given to you by fate — and you couldn't afford to miss him, even if someone found your methods... "radical".

CONTENT WARNINGS: unhealthy behaviour (kidnapping), established relationship [?], power imbalance, pet names, begging + drooling + crying, heavy talk about pregnancy & family-making, mind break [yuuta]

dubious consent (dubcon), somnophilia, sex marathon, heavy petting, unprotected sex / heavy breeding, dirty talk + possessive talk, belly bulge + deep penetration (cervix fucking), treatment (biting, mild choking g.), praise (g., r.), multiple orgasms (g.), hyperstimulation (g.), bondage (g., tied hands), forced orgasms (g.), fingering (g.), cum inflation (g.), mild degradation (g.), worshipping (r.)

WRITING STYLE: drabble (interlude + main chapter), ±3000 words; referencing yuuta's genitals as a 'hole', 'labia' / 'lips', 'womb', 'juice' / 'cum'

DARLINGS: yuuta okkotsu x reader; dom!reader, top!reader, dark!reader, dark!yuuta okkotsu

note: meanie,,, meanie!!! bring malewife back!!!!!</3333

Even despite power and usefulness, even despite tender maturity and loving gentleness, even despite external coldness and 'coolness' — Yuuta was still the same shy, timid sweetheart, looking at you with adoring doe eyes, catching your every glance, willingly following you anywhere, but blushing when you expose "too much" skin, especially if you touch him, forcing him to hide in a corner just to not look quite pathetically desperate. It doesn't matter how long you've been together, but it always seemed as if he would never be able to take you calmly, even if you one day start dating like normal persons, instead of awkward courtship and emotionally affecting games in which there are never winners, even if his sad puppy-dog eyes always make you wonder when is the right moment to ask him.

You didn't consider yourself particularly timid, especially when he tried so hard to show the green light, practically jumping into your hands, breathlessly offering you beautiful things as some kind of gifts to the deity, following you like your shadow, trying to snuggle up to you and asking if you have a type with a face so hot that you were worried for the first time, was there still embarrassment or is it already a fever; damn it, Yuuta gets up early in the morning to cook food for you, always brings you drinks, shivers slightly when touches your skin and always insists on using reverse technique so that you are safe and he knows that everything is fine with you; he calls you to ask you to meet him at the airport, makes sure that it is a convenient time for you during calls, regularly writes to you and sends photos, remembers all possible and impossible things about you, including the most insignificant, but whenever it seemed to you that now, it's time, the right time has come,

Yuuta ran away.

Sometimes metaphorically, sometimes literally, if you were too intimate and aware of this intimacy, letting him know what you want to talk about when press him into a corner, no longer reacting to his unconscious attempts to become even smaller than you — he immediately tries to hide, like a rabbit in front of a fox, regardless of whether it was really a "corner for negotiations" or a gentle purr about the need to discuss something important. If you were a little less knowledgeable, you'd think he's just not interested in relationships, but whenever Yuuta mentions his type (whose description surprisingly resembles you), or that he thought about starting a family "with someone strong enough and ready for such a step", or that he 'would like to stay with you forever if it means that you will never be apart', — you can't get rid of the obsessive feeling that he is trying to say something by playing hot-and-cold, but you might as well have turned to Gojo for love advice to understand why your beloved behaves like a clingy puppy to immediately start avoiding and hiding when you try to check.

Because, you are sure, one eccentric man definitely understands an equally eccentric guy who will eat from your hands and let you do whatever you want with him, following you into fire and water, allowing you to manage him and his fate on your own, but once you offer him a confession — and he is no longer here, as if you were a leper or crazy, seeing something shameful dirty in these innocent things. It will be wrong if he gets naked in front of you or sees your underwear, but if it's others, then it's absolutely fine; hey, if someone needs help, he will always help, he likes to help and be helpful, even if it's something creepy and strange like "please, let's exchange festival t-shirts, I like your... design... more," because Yuuta doesn't care about such details and he's 'not so shy to worry about his half-naked body' — as long as you're not looking, of course.

If someone bothers you, they should be driven away or scared away, but don't get him wrong, there's nothing strange about that — people can't be completely trusted, they want to scare you or take you away, but Yuuta won't let them, keeping you as the most precious thing he has, like a dragon pining over gold, and if he's not careful, someone will steal you, or even kidnap.

... He is being dramatic? He's not, he's not dramatic, and he's not possessive, and he's not fixated, and he's not weird, and he's not creepy, and he's absolutely not crazy about you at all — this is, this is security, and even if you're strong, even if you're potentially stronger than him, you have to be safe and hidden, do you understand? Next to him, letting him wrap around your arm, seeing everyone who is trying to get close to you, knowing that only he will always stay by your side while others will come and go. You're his, and he's yours, — but it's, it's not weird, and it's not wrong, and he's, he's keeping himself under control, do you see? He is safe, he is normal, he is absolutely adequate and he will be anyone, if that means he will be with you, no matter what he wants, pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease

DON'TLEAVEHIM

He's going to be a good boy.

The best boy.

The most obedient, gentle, harmless, innocent, weak, affectionate, patient, quiet, unpretentious,

the goodest boy.

He won't be demanding, he won't be stupid, he won't be needy or clingy, he will be the one you dreamed of, anyone you dreamed of, and will do whatever you want; maybe, maybe Rika taught him a thing or two, and maybe he himself has learned more a few, but he will be the very very very most most most most most

Your touches are like a burning flame,

almost illuminating everything in the semi-darkness of the room,

even when they are so weightless, almost sliding over his fabric while you hide face in his shoulder, thoughtfully stroking him, as if not paying attention to his ruddy face, which quickly becomes nervous from the realization that you are too thoughtful today. It's not that you've never been thoughtful, but you've never been so absorbed, as if trying to make a choice while playing with the clothes, easing the internal tension. For a moment he wants to ask if he is the cause of your current mood, but instead he starts breathing shorter so as not to disturb you, feeling breath on his neck, but not understanding whether he should stop you or watch where it leads, even if your fingers slide to the button — but makes a decision when covers it with palm when your fingers touch.

Yuuta can't help but tense up, feeling that the atmosphere is becoming more oppressive, but when you take your hand away, he hurriedly presses it back, looking at you with a complex expression, not letting you unbutton it, but also preventing you from leaving, feeling an unpleasant disgusting tangle in heart. It's not like he's playing with you, right? He's sincere, he wouldn't mind you unbuttoning his jacket and everything right now, but you, well, you can't. Not now. Not in the near future. He needs to deal with, uh, this first, and... only then you can do whatever you want.

You could hug after that, or even kiss, if you let him; maybe you would stop at holding hands, not wanting to move on, or, well, let him sleep with you not only "just in the same bed", but also sleep like not sleeping, but awake all night night, being alone and not turning on the light. Maybe you would like to call this relationship something like "dating", or "engagement", or "friends with benefits", or "marriage". Maybe you would like to live together and put things together like some kind of... family.

Maybe.

“Ah?! I— I don't— I don't know... I mean— I don't have anyone right now who would be willing to start a family with me, but if someone wanted to, then I would.”

“Pregnancy and children is a little... too much, and I do not know if I can be a parent, but if anything, then I... would like a baby if my spouse wanted to.”

“I am, I am ready to become a good parent — I can become a good parent, and for the sake of our child I will be as good as possible!.. "Our child", I mean, mine and my spouse's... yes... Just so it doesn't sound weird... Not in the sense that the thought of 'our child" sounded wrong, just... Oh.”

“No, no, it's okay, I trust you! You always do everything just for me; I know you care about me. I care about you too, I would like to always help you and be there for you if that's what you would like too.”

“Even if you give me poison, as long as it's from your hands, I'll willingly eat it...”

“... mhm...”

Yuuta is soft, sweet — both outside and inside; especially when his face is so rosy, with trembling eyelashes, breathing heavily when your hands touch his delicate skin, shaking even from the feeling of your breath on it; even if he is almost always cold, freezing, needing a lot of clothes so that his thin long fingers are not comparable to ice, inside he is hot and wet, so sticky that you are not sure that you can pull fingers out of him when gently push them, letting the juice leak due to the incessant trembling from another orgasm. His clit throbs as you continue to rub it, stretching his tight hole, taking care that the juice and lube inside make him perfect for later — you haven't even started yet, this is just preparation, even if you feel like you're starting to go crazy, wanting to fuck his slutty needy hole and stuff it so that his stomach will become full with you, impregnated by you, until the only thing Yuuta can think about is you and how soon you will make him bred again.

His body is beautiful, delicious, perfect, with wet soft thighs, on which red lines appear when you squeeze them, and the pretty gentle face, so serene that you can't help but want to kiss him — especially when he whines softly, as if restraining himself, while you touch, rub, squeeze, intoxicated realizing that if Yuuta were conscious, he would blush even more, looking with shiny wet eyes at how you push fingers into his greedy hole, forcing it to make even more squelching sounds, so loud that even his breathing and moans when you touch his clit, so red and swollen from hyperstimulation, cannot drown them out. Inside, Yuuta is slippery, wet, so hot and so messy that you probably didn't even need lube when his juice flows through your fingers again, mixed with his cum, flowing out again and again to ease your thrusts, needing to squeeze everything out of you and make sure you cum right in his womb, stuffing and filling to the brim when his body is ready for breeding.

His ovulation is in three days, — not so long to wait, — but you know that even so, if you cum inside today, filling up until your cum starts to flow out of him just from the fact that you lightly press on his soft belly, then Yuuta will surely get pregnant with you, with your baby, who will mature in his needy womb. The higher the amount of cursed energy in the body, the lower the fertility, especially for sorcerers, especially for the likes of you and him, but you have more than enough time to make sure that sooner or later Yuuta will become the parent of your baby, even if you have to fuck him every day and night until his body becomes addicted from you, whining loudly like an animal in need every time you thrust into his pliable hole, drooling while you bite his skin, arching backs so that it's easier to hold on to his hips, longing only for you to fuck him senseless, no matter whether you make him throw his legs over your shoulders, put him on all fours, let him lean on a tree — it doesn't matter as long as he is full of you as deeply as ever.

When Yuuta pulsates again on your fingers, squeezing, pushing his thighs apart to take deeper, letting the juice flow even faster down your palm and thick labia, you know that he has cummed again, but you don't stop, continuing to stroke his trembling hypersensitive body, ignoring even the way he whimpers, as if he is about to finally wake up and look at all the mess he has made, seeing how many times he shamelessly cummed on fingers while you were playing with him, treating his body like your toy, tying his hands tightly enough to easily be able to bend him into a mating press or make him to ride you, easily serving you to the wet sounds of his leaking juice, soaked his thighs and labia, taking you all the way, — and understanding what you will do next when you leave hands on his hips, not letting him get out,

as if he would let you.

Yuuta has never felt so painful, so wet, so stretched and so hot when his body is so painfully empty, even though Yuuta feels himself being gently squeezed — but this caress only makes eyes water from too many sensations, drooling from itchy emptiness and being crushed by sensations, not understanding what is happening to him besides how painfully sensitive his clit is, that even careful rubbing makes him whine, wanting to pull knees to his chest if his thighs weren't so soft and trembling, being able to only awkwardly squeeze someone's body between in an attempt to stop them, but even when his glazed eyes look at you, you can't help but feel elated, knowing what will happen next, unlike him, vaguely whining something because of confused mind, realizing that you are in front of him, but being unable to understand what is happening; even when his legs are on your shoulders, while Yuuta feels even more empty inside, feeling his hole throbbing with the need to continue, and the fact that this need only further clouds his mind, vaguely realizing that you want to 'do something' and no longer trying to stop, only warms you up more.

His eyes are wet, shiny when you reach for a kiss, squeezing his thighs with hands, gently asking if he is ready for you, you are about to breed him, and you want him to watch this; after all, this is your first time, even if you definitely spend a lot of time together in the future, especially if his womb is reluctant, — and Yuuta only looks at you with glassy eyes, breathing heavily, definitely realizing what is happening and why he is in such a position, but being unsure whether he should say "stop" or let you fill his hole prepared by you, letting you make your baby inside of him, which will bind you to each other forever,

just like he wanted,

because of which you will have no choice but to choose him and stay with him, having more and more children, making him your husband and part of your family,

AS YOU ARE OBLIGED TO

you chose that, right?

you have to take him with you and make him yours

just like you are hugging him in your arms now, hearing hot breath, feeling how his hole is about to take you inside and up to the womb, which you have to fill until the calendar on phone informs you that 'period delay is too long', his pregnancy has surely come while he is whining from another orgasm.

“I'm, of course I'm ready!.. I— I want your baby; I need you to do... it... inside. In my... w-womb and, like, in my... in me — until I'm yours.”

The velvet walls of Yuuta envelop you when you fill with one push, ignoring how he almost suffocates, instantly feeling so full that his not yet restored mind is crushed again, obeying the need to be fucked until his hole starts to hurt, even if it means losing consciousness from how sensitive his swollen clit is, responsive even to light contact with your skin, which is why he squeezes you tighter, wanting to force you to stay inside and move at the same time until he begins to suffocate from the intensity, hiding his head in your shoulder or in a pillow — it doesn't matter as long as you fuck him without a break, encouraging to humiliatingly cum even if Yuuta doesn't want to anymore, but can't fight with himself, crying with sick delight, forcing him to squirm under you and awkwardly move hips towards you.

Your second push is rougher, deeper, to such an extent that he can feel his stomach filling up with you, even if his uterus seemed too far away before — he can't help but realize with unhealthy delight that you can certainly reach it and rest against it, especially if he tries to throw his knees just a little higher on your shoulders, helping in breeding only by the fact that his soft pliable hole will give you more delicious friction, making you want to get as deep as possible into his slutty hole and cum, as if if you don't do it, then you will die, being unable to even make him scream from fucking senseless, until he's only able to keep his mouth open to grab air. His face is wet, hot, red, looking at you with delight, trying to kiss with whimpering, then at how you drive into him with a squelching sound, breeding his hole, squeezing only so that you stretch him again, ignoring even his inarticulate pleas for 'more' and 'deeper', 'cum inside', 'make me a baby'.

When Yuuta can't do it anymore, rolling eyes pitifully, feeling how his body, exhausted due to orgasms, can only greedily obediently accept everything you give, letting you do whatever you want — squeezing and biting, kissing, licking while he is vaguely realize that you are already close, ready to stuff womb, kneading his hot sensitive body, reacting even when everything before his eyes is floating, being unable to cling to anything other than the thought that you are about to cum inside, perhaps to the point that everything will flow out of him, considering how tight and easily squeezing he is, as soon as you leave his hole for a while, making him feel lonely, whining until you continue; teasing him, pushing the tip only to hear his whimpering and complaints mixed with pleas, enthusiastically shouting your name and how good he is, how good you are, how his whole body feels great while you hold him so close, needy kissing to drown out the flow of praise and adoration, soon becoming many times more intense and unstable with pleas to leave him filled with you forever, never make him be lonely and empty, he can't live without what you gave him today, he can't live without you, please please please please,

“Please please please please please please—”

make him think only about you,

which are interrupted when Yuuta becomes hoarse in his voice, enthusiastically realizing that you are cumming inside him, hugging tightly to you, so warmly and intimately, so close that his heart can't help but flutter, feeling your smell and the way your heart beats while his womb is gradually filling up, more and more, until everything it doesn't start to flow out of him — just so that you don't stop kissing him, ignoring even whiny sighs about when his skin is soaked with your cum.

... When you carefully slip out, Yuuta is almost close to a disappointed moan, if there were at least a little strength in his body, but he can only relax like a rag doll, letting you snuggle as you feel comfortable, carefully pushing the leaking sperm inside — and almost immediately pushing inside stretched hole, taking care of so that nothing leaks out until you wake up to breed him again, wetly kissing his hot face; Yuuta tries to respond in kind, but instead his body responds with sweet pain, which he first wants to cure, but then allows himself to relax, letting you instead hug and hold tightly to you, whispering how good Yuuta is, so obedient, it won't take long to make him pregnant, and these the words respond with warmth in his chest, hearing that you really plan to create a family with him, even if he is like that.

But one more kiss makes him forget about it, vaguely realizing that his hands are still tied — not that it would be a problem for him to untie them,

but instead he obeys, settling comfortably for sleep when your arms are wrapped around his waist. After all, he can always talk to you about it later; after all,

you now have all the time in the world.

973 notes · View notes

b0ther · 1 year ago

Text

LOSER LOSER LOSER !!! YUUTA

it's your typical story: the bully and the loser. you don't mind, though. not when yuuta's taking you in this good.

pairing : okkotsu yuuta x reader (masculine pronouns. amab) rating : explicit, not safe for work (sexual content) type : headcanon & short drabble(s) hehe tags : reader is your typical BULLY and yuuta is your typical LOSER who gets BULLIED, depiction of violence (please be mindful of the tags), high school AU, yuuta gets off from the bullying, reader has a giant cock as per usual, yuuta displays some obsessive behaviours, usage of the words "slut" and "baby" and "whore" and "idiot", dry humping, blowjobs, spitting, anal sex, slight dub-con word count : 1,962

author's note : all my kings who believe in sub yuuta supremacy. . . this one's for you. also i wrote this half asleep. sawry. will def write more for this prompt in the future. love u ol 🫶

( masterlist │ ask/request │ ao3 )

♡ you have never really paid much attention to LOSER!YUUTA, of course. why would you? you have shinier friends and your reputation allows you to trample on people in his class. you don't need him—you don't need to know him.

♡ oh, but LOSER!YUUTA? he pays attention to you. he pays attention hard. he watches your strides, heading to the cafeteria or the bathroom or out the school gates. he breathes in the air every time he gets the chance to indulge himself from being close to you. his cock throbs every time you just so much as elbow his shoulder in malice.

♡ LOSER!YUUTA is such a nice boy—he crosses his heart and swears to himself that he doesn't enjoy seeing his peers getting their heads slammed onto the chalk walls along the hallway by your sturdy hands. in fact, he hates it so much that he would rather you kick his stomach and press your cigarette butts on his cheeks. the sacrifices he would make for his classmates are immeasurable.

♡ and soon enough, one of your friends would start pointing out how LOSER!YUUTA peeks at your direction constantly behind his book. his small and slender frame as if nonexistence between whatever the hell he is reading. you shake your head, laughing. "you can't name anyone in this school who doesn't want a taste of my dick," you wave your friends off, "especially not some fuckin' loser like him."

♡ you forgot about LOSER!YUUTA for a hot moment—ransacking school bags to find cash you can claim on your own; stepping on the feet of anyone who dares to tell you no. when everyone looks away, you find one pair of eyes occasionally stealing glances your way.

♡ curiosity, as curiosity does, eventually finds itself making its way to you. you love the attention, and when there is the opportunity to fuck something, what proper response are there but to chase it?

“Arent’cha curious of me?” You ask, backing him up against the wall.

Yuuta shakes as you tower over him, eyes darting back and forth between your face and the door that you won’t allow him to leave.

“Hey,” annoyed, you grab his jaw after taking a deep breath of the smoke between your fingers, forcing him to look at you. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

“Sorry,” he stutters out, almost as quick as the moment your sentence ended.

You scoff—Yuuta feels your hot breath on his skin. It smells like cigarettes, but mostly, it’s his first whiff of you. His eyes turn wide at his body’s awful timing of letting his cock go rock hard.

He prays that you won’t notice his cock practically peeking from underneath his pants. You never noticed his hard on, after all. But that day, in the cramped janitor’s closet, you are given no choice but to notice. Especially with his little grunt, clearing his throat like he’s slick.

“See,” you let go of his face, shoving his head against the wall. “I got you this hard, and what did I do?” You rub your leg against his crotch, intrigued at how his face crinkle in sudden pleasure. You killed the cigarette on the wall next to his head—Yuuta can hear it die, and he can almost feel the heat too.

He whimpers.

“Oh, quit being so whiny.” Your hand reached over to palm his ass, still rubbing your knee up and down his clothed length. “You like me this much? Show me.”

♡ LOSER!YUUTA is not proud that he came all over his uniform pants just by rutting his cock on your thigh. well, maybe he is. no matter how he feels about it, he manages to pique your interest and make you come back to him for more.

♡ you don’t pretend to hide it. you’d pull him over in the middle of a crowded hallway, arms snaking around his waist where the whole school can see. words begin to spread, but you don’t care. neither does LOSER!YUUTA.

♡ LOSER!YUUTA would have to work for your cock, though. you aren’t letting him get to you that easy. besides, it’s fun getting him to jack himself off under the showers as you watch him squirm like the pathetic slut that he is.

♡ you’d take him right then and there—the more you do this, the harder it becomes to resist him—but you control yourself. there’s gotta be someone on their right mind in this exchange, and with all his good grades and straight a’s, LOSER!YUUTA is definitely too dumb when it comes to you.

♡ it’s a surprise when LOSER!YUUTA lets you into his room for the first time. it was just how you expected his room to be—simple, plain, boring.

♡ “my parents aren’t home,” he says as he fiddles with the hem of his uniform, not daring to look you in the eyes.

♡ LOSER!YUUTA, eyes wide when you instructed him to suck you off. you snicker at his stupid expression, and nodded at your crotch as you sat on his bed. “go on, i’m not gonna cum on my own.”

♡ but he is so eager to please you. so so excited. he sits between your thighs and marvels at the size of your cock compared to his face. you do not disappoint.

♡ “aren’t you gonna suck it?”

♡ LOSER!YUUTA is so good at sucking you off. you should have made him give you a blowjob earlier. he is gentle at first, kissing the tips of your cock, slobbering up the rest of your length for his taking, before eventually using his hot throat to welcome you in.

You don’t even know where the fuck he learnt how to give a blowjob this good—who the fuck wants to get blown by a loser like Okkotsu Yuuta?

For some ungodly reason, he lets you in his room. And for some ungodly, too, he lets you place a pillow between your head and the wall as he sucks you off like he spends his days practising his jaws to accommodate your length.

He’s probably expected you to come on him like this, huh?

Both of his hands are squeezing the base of your cock, continuously pumping, and his pretty lips wrap themselves nicely around your tip. You watch the top of his head between your spreaded thighs as he drags the top of your dick in and out of his wet mouth.

“Yuuta,” you groan, gathering the strands of his hair with your fingers. All that you can hear is the sound of his chokes—at your call, he looks up at you under his long lashes, his cheeks hollow as he continues his slobbering mess. “Fuck,” you breathe, tugging on his hair tighter, “aren’t you pretty like this?”

His already flushed cheeks became redder—there is a sense of pride blossoming in his chest. You complimented him. Yuuta’s vision blurs as he becomes more dizzy—he just wants to make you feel good.

♡ you wouldn’t have guessed that if LOSER!YUUTA was to have a hobby, it was to suck you off.

♡ LOSER!YUUTA would never initiate anything first, of course. but a slut like him just needs a push—he’d beat your meat anywhere you want. the school rooftop, the karaoke room you took him to once. under a restaurant desk or in a hidden library corner.

♡ the vulnerability of it all turns LOSER!YUUTA on. and his neediness, his little whimpers and cries—he turns you on.

♡ you wonder how you never notice LOSER!YUUTA in his gym clothes: shorts and a shirt that is a little too tight for his body frame. he is full of sweat whenever he has to run the mile or throw some sort of lame spike across the volley net.

♡ eventually you find yourself fucking him.

♡ tight, tight hole. tightest hole you ever seen. you had to breathe to stop yourself from cumming when you first tried out his hole.

♡ you fuck him in the shower room, you fuck him in the gym storage, you fuck him on the teacher’s table on an empty classroom. he’s always bent over somewhere: ass up for you to take, and dick hard for you to jack off and leave him on the edge.

“Don’t— Don’t stop—” he begs, prettily. You’ve grown a soft spot for him by now. His moans titter like melodies, echoing in the empty classroom as you dick him down—you press both his hands on his back as you drill yourself harder into him.

“Giving me instructions now?” You grunt, and Yuuta whines. A chuckle escapes your lips as you raise your hand to give his full ass a hard slap. "Shut up and just take my cock."

♡ LOSER!YUUTA just wants you to kiss him.

♡ he reaches his arms around your neck whenever you press his knees over his chest, pulling you in.

♡ “no, no,” you chuckle, grabbing his jaw. “you don’t get to fucking kiss me, alright? i don’t kiss whores like you.”

♡ and LOSER!YUUTA knows how weak you are to his little whines. he claws at your chest, caresses the side of your face—”please,” he sobs, “kiss me, kiss— nghh—” your cock gets him so drunk that he can’t even finish a coherent sentence—he can’t even beg.

♡ his eyes roll back, nails digging into the blades of your shoulders. “i can’t, i can’t—”

“You can’t what?”

His little hole feels like it’s scraping your dick every time you pull out and slam yourself back in. He’s so wet, so messy, so tight, just for your cock and even after fucking into his asshole this many times, you wonder how he can still be so fucking tight.

“You’re t’big,” Yuuta closes his eyes, hand blindly grasping for your neck, desperate for something to hold on to. “I can’t—”

“Aww,” you coo, faking empathy as you grab his face. “Sure you can take it. You’ve done this a million times.”

Yuuta lets one of his eyelids fly open, and he is greeted with your lips, lazily grinning down at him.

“It hurts,” he cries softly, knees becoming sore as you continue to bend it over his torso. His dick aches at your lack of attention to it, oozing precum all over his uniform and on the floor where you were fucking him. “Fu– fuck. Please, please.”

You watch the way his hair sticks against his forehead with his sweat, cheeks billowed and chest heaving. He just doesn’t know the things he does to you.

“Little slut can’t take it?” You manage to keep your voice steady, as if you aren’t close to fucking his brains out. “Want me to kiss it better?”

As if he has his ears perking at your preposition, he shoots both his eyes open. Excitement flashes through his pupils, and between his grunts, he manages to ask, “Can… can you—?”

You laugh, “Of course not, idiot.” You let go of his face and stand on your knees, ready to pummelled into him even harder. “Here,” you lean down at his sweaty face, kissing the skin under his eye before spitting on his face, “You can have a taste.”

Yuuta squirms. You use the back of your hand to wipe the spit off your mouth and laugh again when you see Yuuta with his mouth open, tongue hanging out.

“God. Want me to spit in your mouth this time?”

Yuuta nods, wrapping his leg around your body as best as he can, and weakly tugs for you to lean down. Every taste of you is divine—he wants everything you offer him, and he wants so much more.

“You’re so hot, baby,” You rub his face. “Beg for my spit. Use your words. You can do it, right?”

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