'Sup *waves casually and accidentally knocks over my water cup*
I'm MossterUndertheBed, here and on Ao3, avid writer and devourer of worlds. Lover of poetry, nature photography, art of all kinds, and anything I can eat with my eyeballs: ie. a good story.
My primary fandom is Jujutsu Kaisen right now, with a sprinkling of Naruto, MXTX, and a few other odds and ends. My primary ship is Goyuu, but I dabble in others, especially Okkoita.
Also, we tolerate zero non-con in this house, fictional, fandom, or otherwise. Not my cup of tea, so keep that Over There, please. Thanks.
If you also love writing or wanna make dying whale noises about brilliant works of art in the form of writing, drawing, food, or anything else that can feasibly convey A Meaning, come say hi!
I know this sounds super serious and depressing because of all the periods and proper formatting but I'm actually chill, I promise.
As promised/threatened, I'm switching to the July Project fics for the WIP Wed snippets (side note: I haven't been able to respond to the replies on that post yet, but I will soon). I'm still working on the arranged marriage AU, but between getting hit with a hectic stretch of work and juggling two fics, progress is slow—but steady!
I finished the itaokko entry a few days ago, though, and this is a snippet from the first half of it. The fic as a whole starts out as scent kink and then proceeds into non-heat/rut alpha/omega sex. There are also hints of goyuu and yuutarika threaded throughout. I had fun doing a bit of world-building, but I don't think a lot of that's made it into this excerpt.
“It’s not disgusting,” Okkotsu says suddenly.
“Huh?” Yuuji shakes his head, hard, trying to clear it. “What?”
“Your scent,” Okkotsu clarifies, and his hand leaves Yuuji’s knee to pluck out his hand from between their bodies, prying it off the edge of the mattress and onto his lap. “It’s just…unique.”
For a moment, all Yuuji can do is watch blankly as Okkotsu coaxes his fingers to uncurl one by one, until Yuuji’s hand is lying palm-up on one of his thighs. Okkotsu drags a finger from the base of Yuuji’s thumb to the center of his wrist, and the scent glands on either side of it grow tellingly warm.
Yuuji clamps down tight on that instinct, breathing out slowly and sucking in air through clenched teeth. It’s cold on his tongue and does nothing to erase the scent that’s already sunk into the inside of his throat.
“It’s, uh, nice of you to say that, Okkotsu-senpai,” Yuuji manages to say without risking another breath through his nose. “But you don’t know what my scent is like. Trust me, it’s bad.”
“I do, though.” Okkotsu’s eyes flit from Yuuji’s hand to his face, crinkling around a sweet smile. “I know your scent quite well.”
Yuuji just gapes at him for a moment. “How do you—the fight? No, I didn’t—”
“You didn’t lose control during the fight, no,” Okkotsu cuts in smoothly. “It was scarily impressive, actually. But you died, Itadori-kun, if just for a moment. A corpse has no control over itself.”
“Oh. Oh, shit.”
“You went from smelling like nothing at all to drenching the entire street,” Okkotsu recalls, still smiling, and the weirdest part is that he sounds as fond as he did when he was talking about Gojou. “Caught me off guard. It’d have been quite the effective tactic if you’d done it on purpose.”
“It would have?” Yuuji asks, his mind reeling from this revelation. “No, yes, I mean—I know that, I’ve done it before.”
“You didn’t do it with me,” Okkotsu points out lightly. “I’d ask why, but I think we both know the answer.”
“It’s not because you’re an omega,” Yuuji says firmly. “I wouldn’t hold back because of something like that.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t.” Okkotsu covers Yuuji’s whole wrist with his hand; it’s warm. “You just wanted to die.”
Yuuji freezes. “I…”
“It’s alright,” Okkotsu says very gently. “I understand. I really do. It’s okay, Itadori-kun. It’s hard to climb out of that pit—but you’ll get there.”
“Thanks,” Yuuji mumbles, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. “You’re really nice, senpai.”
“Ah.” It’s a quiet, awkward sound, which is pretty funny coming from a guy who just said all that to Yuuji. “You’re really nice too.”
Yuuji laughs, some tension he wasn’t consciously aware of draining out of his body. He lazily turns his head to the side and finds that Okkotsu’s gone back to staring at Yuuji’s hand. His palm is still covering the wrist, and the warmth of his skin threatens to tear out an answering heat from the scent glands there. Yuuji’s suppressing it on pure instinct, but now—
“You really didn’t mind my scent?” he asks curiously.
Okkotsu’s silent for a long moment—long enough that Yuuji first thinks he didn’t hear Yuuji and then starts to wonder if Okkotsu was offering him a kind lie instead of the oblivious reassurance Yuuji thought his words were.
“I got a little wet,” Okkotsu says, with an unmistakable note of sheepishness his voice. “It was very embarrassing. Distracting too, which was pretty dangerous. That was the most complicated use of reverse cursed technique I’d ever attempted, and for a moment there, I was focused on all the wrong things.” Okkotsu chuckles, shaking his head as if judging his own past self. “If you’d died because of something like that, I think Gojou-sensei would have killed me when he got out.”
Yuuji opens his mouth, without a single clue about what to say, and all that comes out is a weak, wavering, “S-senpai?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Itadori-kun,” Okkotsu says, looking over at Yuuji. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
Uncomfortable isn’t how he’d put it.
Yuuji smells like a slaughterhouse.
His grandpa was the one who put it like that, back when Yuuji first presented—a little early for it, at ten years old. He didn’t know at the time what a slaughterhouse smelled like, and his grandpa’s scent, which had been clean and cutting in a way that reminded Yuuji of hospital waiting rooms both before and after his own olfactory sense developed to match his newfound biology, wasn’t a very useful comparison. None of his classmates had presented at the time, and the older kids he’d run into were usually in groups that generated a confusing mixture of scents. The adults he knew all kept their scents muted, and his teachers were legally mandated to wear scent patches.
His grandpa’s explanation was blunt and curt in his usual way—but not hurtful. He talked about it the way he talked about Yuuji’s unnatural strength. Just another part of him, like the bright color of his hair or the brown eyes he inherited from his father. His strength and his scent weren’t so mundane, but his grandpa never made him feel like those were monstrous either. He was just focused on the practicalities, and even at that age, Yuuji could tell that his grandpa was more worried about Yuuji’s safety and happiness than anything else.
He’s always appreciated those lessons—the love in them. Later, once he really understood just how different he was from other people, he appreciated them even more.
Yuuji’s been to meat markets in the years since then. He has learned, intimately, the smell of blood fresh and old and sweet and rotten. He’s had it drench his hands, and he’s dreamed of spilling it with four large hands that don’t belong to him at all, even as they tear through flesh under his will.
He’s seen time and time again how people react when his control over his scent glands slips.
In all his life, there’s been exactly one person who liked it. It’s hard to wrap his mind around the possibility of that number doubling.
“Itadori-kun?” Okkotsu prods, drawing Yuuji’s eyes and attention back to him. He’s still holding Yuuji’s hand, and he’s ducked his head like he’s trying to get a better look at Yuuji’s expression.
The angle makes something deep inside Yuuji sit up and take notice.
He swallows thickly. His scent glands all pulse, the heat lurking under them trying to seep out. A dull ache blooms along his throat, his ribs, his wrists, his thighs. His cock stirs too, and Yuuji has to fight not to do something stupid and obvious like press his legs together.
He does something else stupid and obvious instead—he lets his scent creep out, just a little.
He knows the exact moment Okkotsu catches a whiff of it. His pupils blow wide, their gleaming dark eating into the flat black of his irises. He sucks in a shamelessly deep breath, his eyes fluttering and lips parting, and the faintest red streaks his cheeks. His own scent, already drenching the air, seems to become the air, filling the room with its heavy, heavenly notes.
Oh, Yuuji thinks. He wasn’t lying.
“Are you?” he hears himself ask. “Wet. Right now.”
Okkotsu’s eyes open fully, still mostly pupil. They bore into Yuuji’s for an electric instant, and then Okkotsu’s moving, swift and sudden, and Yuuji’s got a lapful of warmth and heat.
He loses the fight with his glands and his cock, groaning as the floodgates blow open.
“Senpai,” he rasps, desperately gripping the sheets with his sole free hand; Okkotsu’s still holding the other hostage, now rubbing at Yuuji’s leaking scent glands instead of just holding his wrist. “What’re you—”
“You can check,” Okkotsu cuts in smoothly, cupping Yuuji’s face with the hand not groping his scent glands.
“W-what?”
Okkotsu smiles brightly. “You can check, Itadori-kun. I don’t mind.”
“Oh,” Yuuji breathes, scorched clean through with a sudden understanding. “Oh.”
Okkotsu scoots closer, till the front of his body is nearly flush with Yuuji’s chest and face. He could just lean in and bury his face in that chest, that throat—
He could.
He really could. Okkotsu wouldn’t—
His arm winds tight around Okkotsu’s waist, almost before Yuuji’s made the conscious decision to do it, and the two of them collide with a dull thud. Okkotsu makes a noise that sounds both surprised and pleased, and Yuuji catches the tail end of that with his face shoved into the curve of Okkotsu’s throat, feeling the slight tremors there.
“Ah,” Okkotsu sighs, his hand sliding easily from Yuuji’s face to his hair. It pats, once. “You’re very cute.”
Yuuji’s not all the way sure if that’s a compliment, but he’s also finding it hard to care, and all he does is hold Okkotsu more tightly and press his face more firmly into his throat, dragging in deep, greedy breaths. The scent gland there is damp against Yuuji’s nose, and every inhale coats the insides of his nose and throat and lungs with the rich, heady notes of Okkotsu’s scent. It drips down too, pooling in his gut like liquid gold and seeping down to fuel the fire licking at his cock.
i love it and hate it when a character in a story is so obviously created to be cool and awesome and then i do think they're cool and awesome. like fuck, yeah, ok, they're fucking epic. swag as hell. you got me you coolbaited me ok? i'm coolbaited.
goyuu thought of the day is that they would be so funny in an isekai situation a la bingqiu. Yuuji is a perfectly normal guy who has a Gojo Satoru anime body pillow and watches a compilation of the best Gojo scenes at the gym (rewinds the panting scene on a loop) while his gym buddy asks if they can pretty please just put on something else this time. he gets isekaied while trying to help someone and lands in the body of Itadori Sukuna, who is Gojo Satoru's least favorite student (won most likely to take over the world one day at the goodwill event awards ceremony). now he has to convince his teacher that no, this personality change is totally normal and not another evil plan, I promise! alongside frantically trying to cram Sukuna's various evil plots back into the closet while Kenjaku is hitting him up for the ETA on the prison realm plot
Satoru meanwhile is confused and amused, but he's been very strict about not developing feelings for any more villains after all that previous unpleasantness and he's pretty sure Sukuna's tried to kill him like three times already, so he's trying hard not to appreciate his student's change of focus from his throat to his ass
Nobara and Megumi clock the isekai immediately but they're so relieved that their classmate is no longer evil that they just get the truth out of Yuuji only to make sure that there's no possibility of Sukuna coming back
Yuuji is having trouble sleeping without his body pillow, but the great thing about this new world is that Gojo Satoru is real! surely he can get his pillow back in human form. all he has to do is figure out how to seduce him, throw Kenjaku in the prison realm that's burning a hole in his pocket, and figure out how to discreetly record his teacher so that he can get his gym compilation video back. it's really boring to do push-ups without watching Gojo take down villains
