╰┈➤ warnings: suggestive content, mentions of breast play and some low key smut but nothing detailed
╰┈➤ A/N: yet another jjk headcanon post, this time tho it’s a bit of a crack post LMAO — once I get it all out of my system you’ll start to see more demon slayer content again lolol for now, enjoy ;)
Itadori Yuji
To your face: “your chest” or “boobs”
When he’s horny: “your tits”
9/10 times Yuji is a respectful man. That 1/10 times tho? He’s a bit disrespectful when he’s horny, you’ll notice his language get a little more vulgar the more turned on he gets. Yuji also loves to lay on your chest, getting relatively shy when he asks for permission from you.
Fushiguro Megumi
To your face: “your breasts”
When he’s horny: still… “your breasts”
Megumi is a straightforward kinda guy, he’s typically gonna refer to your chest as “your breasts”, even when he’s horny. It’s an odd occurrence for anything else to slip past his lips and if it does? He’d s bit mortified by it. Especially since he knows you’ll tease him.
Kugisaki Nobara
To your face: “your titties”
When she’s horny: “your tits.”
Miss girl has no shame, she’ll always refer to your breasts as tits or titties. She’ll openly ask if she can suck on them, usually she’s not joking. You complain about them being sore? She’s offering you a titty massage. You’re laying down? Expect her to be laying on them.
Zen’in Maki
To your face: “your boobs”
When she’s horny: “your pretty tits.”
She’s all about your chest tbh, no matter how big or how small her hands will always find their way to them. She’ll always be the big spoon for that very reason. She’ll also refer to them when she wants to see you flustered in front of other people, she thinks it’s cute.
Inumaki Toge
To your face: he’ll usually refer to them as “breasts”
Toge usually used sign language to talk one on one with you, with that being said he uses his actions more than his words to describe your breasts. You kinda get the idea when he calls them bouncy or soft, he’ll always bury his face in them. Dirty talk tho? Not for him lol
Okkotsu Yuta
To your face: “your boobs” or “your breasts.”
When he’s horny: “mine.”
Yuta is relatively shy and usually very respectful towards you. However, he gets quite possessive when he’s in the mood. Most of the time he’ll just keep repeating “mine” over and over again as he sucks hickeys all over your bare breasts. It’s a bit of an obsession.
Gojo Satoru
To your face & when he’s horny: “your tits, tatas, tiddies, chest pillows, bazoongas, the girls, mommy milkers” the list goes on
He’s childish and horny 95% of the time… and that’s being generous. Satoru will call your boobs literally anything and everything to be honest. I loved kissing them, sucking on them, using them as pillows, fucking them... He’ll always want to have his hands on them.
Nanami Kento
To your face: “your breasts” or he doesn’t refer to them
When he’s horny: “my pretty tits”
He’s so serious and straightforward. Unless you get him really worked up it’s not common for him to even really refer to your chest at all. If he does though, it’s usually when he’s jealous and wants to remind you just who you belong too.
you were getting bored waiting for nobara and the boys to get here, it felt like it’s been hours. usually megumi would at least be on time, so it was worrying you. constantly checking your phone was getting annoying so you decided to go on your own.
once you got to the fairgrounds you could see the tall ferris wheel, towering all the other rides in it’s wake. even though you were alone you could surely have just as much fun as you would with your friends, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw a familiar face.
you quickly paid for admission and went over to him. “hey yuta!” he jumped, quietly gasping at the sound of your voice. all he could do was nervously wave, his palms were a bit sweaty, if his anxiety didn’t kill him you would. “hey..” his voice barely above a mumble, but seeing your smile immediately brightened up his night, way more than the colorful lights around him could.
“you’re alone too huh?” he nodded quietly, but the second he felt you take his hand into yours, he suddenly gained a little confidence. despite the sweat of his palms, you still held his hand and that’s what made him feel so comfortable in your presence. he had you with him when he was alone. “let’s hang out together! sorry, i would normally ask beforehand but i don’t have your number.. i guess it worked itself out though huh?”
he looked into your eyes and he could practically see how happy you were, he wanted to hide again, but how could he, you were actually talking to him and he loved every second of it. “yeah, let’s go on rides.” you practically dragged him to your favorite ride, even though his feet were dragging against the dirt, his shoes slightly getting scuffed in the process, he didn’t care. he was happy to see you so excited, he wanted to call this a date; but he knew that wasn’t what this was. he had to remind himself that you more than likely didn’t feel the same. it was all just a dream of his. maybe a hang out at best, but he felt your head rest against his arm in the line where you two stood. “I don't know how you knew i was gonna come… but thank you for being here.”
oh god.
he looked down at you, he saw your sad smile as you looked towards the ground “my friends said they’d come but i think they ditched me.. well, they never showed up so more like flaked.” he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “i wouldn’t say i knew… but i’m glad i agreed to come… my friends also flaked…” he wanted to say more but he watched as the door opened to get on the ride. “wait, so what is this ride again..?” he walked on after you before you gasped excitedly. “basically you’re stuck to the wall and it spins super fast!” you two stood next to each other along the wall.
you felt as the ride began, a knot growing in your stomach. you held onto yuta’s hand as the ride went on. a smile growing on both of your faces.
the whole night was full of the two of you playing games, riding rides, talking, and eating food. yuta even won you a giant stuffed animal. the last thing left was the ferris wheel. you wanted to wait because it’s best at night. seeing all the other rides with their brightly colored lights, and all the people who look so small once you finally reach the top, you loved it all. you held your stuffed bear in your lap. the fuzz made the goosebumps settle on your body. “you know… you’re such a fun guy… i don’t get why you’re so nervous around me…”
yuta looked over at you, the bright lights illuminating your face perfectly. he swore he died and touched heaven that night. “well.. you’re really pretty… so, i think i just get nervous around you because i’m not used to it…” you looked back at him and smiled. “yuta, you’ve spent all night with me… you don’t have to be so nervous, i don’t bite.” the cooling breeze whisked past you, the air rang in your ears. if it wasn’t for the two of you being at the top of the fair, yuta would’ve been way more nervous by now.
he gently grabbed your face, feeling the warmth of your cheek against his palm make his stomach turn. all he could see was you looking at him through your long lashes before you quickly kissed him on the lips, gently pulling away before the ride stopped. “see..”
his face was bright red. he nodded quietly before he did it for himself. you could tell he was inexperienced, you could feel how tense he was before he quickly pulled away.
Summary: You flee your wedding and reunite with your childhood friend, Okkotsu Yuuta, who was only expecting to spend an ordinary afternoon at a café with his friends.
Content Warnings: childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, second chance, hurt/comfort, slow burn, consensual sex, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, light jealousy, mentions of past relationships, class divide, toxic family dynamics, soft Yuuta, nobamaki if you squint, unedited
Author's Notes: inspired by the first episode of Friends. this got way longer than i expected (8k… oops). anyway i’m going to sleep now, enjoy!
Word Count: 8.2k words
When Yuuta walked into the café today, he expected a normal day.
He expected Panda sprawled on the usual drab couch, manspreading in a kind of theatrical entitlement that would have left Toge squeezed into the corner of the couch, who would then murmur odd syllables of amusement once Maki began her exasperated scolding.
And right on cue, he had walked into an argument already mid-swing.
“There’s nothing to tell,” Maki snapped, though Yuuta doesn’t miss the faintest colour traced on her cheekbones as he reaches his usual seat — a distinctly red single couch, its fabric dulled and rubbed threadbare from years of bodies slouching into it. “She’s just some underling at work. She gawks at me all the time — it doesn’t mean anything.”
Panda grinned in response. “C’mon,” he chuckled. “You’re going out with a woman. A real-life-size woman. Isn’t that something?”
Maki rolled her eyes as Toge gave a quiet syllable of agreement, his eyes brighter than ever.
This was a routine. This was ordinary. He had never once imagined that such a place of ordinary rituals could tilt itself into something more fantastical and ceremonial. But it did.
The door of the cafe opened with the regular chime sound, and he remembers it all too clearly— at first, he heard the hiss of rain, then he smelt the damp wet stones. Yuuta’s eyes looked up lazily, expecting another student, another office worker, someone here for cheap coffee and shelter from the drizzle. Instead, he saw you. A woman — no, not just any woman, but a bride.
The café had stilled in that moment. Even the old espresso machine, which was usually hissing and wheezing about, seemed to fall silent.
Panda’s hand froze mid-air, halfway to his muffin. Toge’s mutter died on his tongue. Even Maki had lifted her gaze, holding an expression that was dangerously close to surprise. Because it is not every day a bride walks into this café.
Your eyes dart across the room — frantic, urgent, desperate to find someone, and it’s only when your eyes find him that he realises — it’s him. You were searching for him.
At that realisation, he lurched up to stand at once. It was a little too clumsy, too sudden, as though his seat had grown immediately hot.
He thought he should speak, ask something rational, like what are you doing here? Or say something gentle, like asking if you were okay, but his tongue felt thick and lumpy in his mouth, sodden just as the dirty hem of your white dress.
So when you began to speak, he almost sighed with relief.
“Yuuta,” you said, his name softened between your lips, and your whole face seemed to ease.
“Oh, it’s so… I’m so happy you’re here. I didn’t know where else to go. I just— I left. I left him, Yuuta. I was standing there, staring at the aisle, at him, at all of it. The expensive flowers. The expensive carpet. The expensive champagne, and suddenly it was like I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t do it. So I ran. I just— I ran.”
Yuuta isn’t sure what he can say to that.
It’s loaded, so he doesn’t know where to start asking questions. He simply stares at you. And then turns back to see his seated friends, as though one of them will ground him away from this dream that he seems to have slipped into. Because it is a dream, right?
But when Panda only gave a low whistle in response, it was the kind that seared the reality of the situation into his brain.
“Now this,” Panda had said, leaning back, “is better than Love Island, my friends.”
He knows now that this is real. And you’ve apparently left a wedding. You had agreed, once, to marry someone else, and then you hadn’t. This is an afterthought he tries to suppress, given everything else that’s staring him stark in the face. But he does think it, even if it were only for a moment.
Maki crossed her arms then, watching you closely. “You’re dripping mud all over the floor,” she comments, but her voice doesn’t come out with any sort of sting, but rather as an observation.
You looked flustered, but ignored the comment as you took Yuuta’s hands, clutching them with a desperation that made his heart stumble out of his chest.
You were cold to touch, and he wonders if he should give you his jacket.
“I don’t want to be who I was,” you confessed now softly. “I was this girl who lived in a bubble. I looked at him, Yuuta, and I thought— this isn’t it. This isn’t my life. This isn’t me at all. And all I could think was… I needed to find a friend. A friend who knows me.”
It’s out of place to hear this confession from a person he hadn’t seen in years now, but everything about this situation was out of place.
You belonged at the end of an aisle, and he belonged here.
You were meant for cathedrals and champagne halls, and he was meant for a chipped mug of coffee and a menial job. Yet, you were here holding his hand.
It was all out of place.
—
The group, to Yuuta's surprise, was astonishingly well-composed in the wake of your situation.
Toge and Panda had gone to the counter to get you something warm. Maki, whose name, you would only learn later, had wordlessly stripped a navy shawl from her own shoulders and flung it across yours in a gesture that was brusque.
And then there was Yuuta.
Yuuta was crouched before you, perched on the low table opposite. His body was tilted forward as he stared intensely at you. You didn’t blame him, though the intensity of his stare, mingled with the realisations of what you had just done — of the words you had mumbled to him, of the man you had abandoned, of the people whose names would be lighting up your screen, of the entire state of your life — all of which had suddenly all come boiling to the surface.
And sitting there, clutching the borrowed shawl tight around your shoulders, you felt the shame and embarrassment rise sharply in your throat.
“Are you okay?” Yuuta tried, the words falling clumsily from his mouth.
And immediately he realised how stupid that sounded. Are you okay? What a ridiculous and pathetic question. Of course, you weren’t okay. People who were okay didn’t abandon weddings midway through. People who were okay didn’t search, wild-eyed, for the face of a boy they hadn’t seen in almost half a decade. People who did this were — undeniably, certifiably — not okay.
He glanced sideways at Maki, who was already looking at him like he was the dumbest man alive.
He gulped. He wanted, very sincerely, to punch himself in the face.
“I just feel like someone has reached down my throat, and has grabbed my small intestine, pulled it out of my mouth, and tied it around my neck.”
The description was grotesque, or even dramatic and childish, but it was the truth of your body.
“If you get me,” you attempted to add, your voice dropping to a meek, apologetic murmur.
And at that, Yuuta really wanted to punch himself in the face. He should be saying something, anything to distract you from your situation — to make your world lighter, but where could he begin? He knew nothing anymore. Not about you, not about the person you had become, not about the life you had just abandoned.
“I am glad to see you, though,” you added softly. “It’s strange. I haven’t seen you in years, but you’re my only true friend I’ve had in such a long time.”
“A friend who wasn’t even invited to the wedding,” Maki remarked. Her voice was sharp, but the remark itself was plain. It didn’t feel accusatory, but more so — observational.
“Maki,” Yuuta protested, however, as his chest was tightening.
“We did drift apart,” you admitted, eyes not leaving his. “But you would always be my friend, Yuuta. You know that, don’t you?”
He could swear your eyes twinkled just then.
—
You sat with both hands curled around the hot chocolate. The porcelain of the cup radiated a simple and welcoming warmth that you clung to, sip after sip, while they all stared at you. There are questions simmering beneath their tongues, you can feel it, but the warmth of the cup around your palms, the warmth of the drink down your throat left you a bit listless, and comforted — that you didn’t mind. You simply sipped on the drink as they watched you like some exotic creature they were meant to study.
You look up now, at the group, and then at Yuuta.
“Can I borrow your phone?” you asked, quietly but firmly too. “I need to call my father.”
Yuuta startled, cleared his throat, already reaching for his pocket. “Right. Yeah. Of course.”
You handed him the empty cup, the porcelain had tints of red from your lipstick, and he exchanged it for his phone. You stood up and drifted to the far side of the café, for privacy, he assumes.
“Who is she?” Panda asked first, his voice sly, delighted by the scandal at hand. “Don’t tell me you were having an affair with an engaged woman. How perverted is that?” He paused, grin widening as he looked at her now. “Kudos, though. She’s pretty.”
Yuuta’s brow knit, irritation flashing across his face. “It’s not like that,” he said quickly. “I haven’t seen her in years. She’s just— an old friend. We grew up together. We don’t even talk anymore.” His voice trailed off. It’s all out of place.
“And yet,” Maki murmured, arms folded, eyes narrowing in clinical interest, “she runs to you as she leaves her future husband. Isn’t that interesting?”
Yuuta hesitated, words catching. Then, softly, almost pleading, he said, “I mean… look at her. She doesn’t seem like she has a lot of good friends. She probably just needed someone outside of those circles. Her family— they’re the rich kind, you know. They’ve got their own world, their own orbit. I don’t know why she’s here, but I’m assuming she has no one else.”
At that, he could visibly see Maki soften, her shoulders relaxed. You were not the threat afterall. You were just a woman with a family of idiots.
“That’s… kinda sad,” Panda said in response, voicing what everyone was feeling. And for once, his voice held no joke at all. It was sincere.
You stood by the window, with the phone pressed to your ear. You almost wish he wouldn’t pick up. You didn’t want to face this reality of yours. This life you lived. You wish you could start a new one here, with Yuuta and his odd group of friends.
When your father’s voice came through, it was clipped, cool, controlled — as though you had interrupted a board meeting, or worse, humiliated him by existing in the wrong place.
“Where are you?” he demanded, without any effort to establish a preamble. “Come back. Now.”
You swallowed. “I left.”
“I am aware,” he said. “You have thirty minutes. Return.”
“No,” you whispered.
“Speak up,” he urged. He hated it when you mumbled to yourself. Meek. Weak. Small.
Your voice was trembling, though you forced it to sound steady. “I couldn’t—” You failed. “I could not do it, Papa. I tried. I really tried, but when I looked at him… I wanted to leave, and so, I did.”
You pressed your hand against the cold glass, the rain outside smearing the city into indistinct lights. Something to steady you, you tried to focus on the colours.
“I only wanted to apologise to you and Mama. I love you both. And I’m only sorry for that. For abandoning you to deal with this for me. But I never wanted it, and you knew it.”
You clutched the phone tighter, as though by holding it you might tether yourself to something familiar, but the voice on the other end was not safety. It never was.
“Goodbye,” you said then. Final. Ending. “I hope you forgive me.”
When you lowered the phone, the café seemed to tilt, the air thinning around you. Your stomach hollowed, your skin prickled. You wanted air. You wanted your bed.
“Are you alright?” Yuuta’s voice cut through cleanly into the fugue — steady, warm, and concerned.
You turned, slow and uncomposed. Your eyes were rimmed with red, and before you could reason your way through it, you closed the distance between you and him. You all but collapsed into his arms.
He was startled and nearly lost his footing until he steadied himself. Then he steadied you, pulling you upright into his hold. His arms folded around you as his palm pressed to the back of your head in a slow, patting you now.
“It’s okay,” he murmured. He repeated them anyway, again and again, slowly, until the sound itself became a tether. A mantra. A spell. And the more he said it, the more you began to believe it.
When your sobs stopped, as the deep tremor in your chest had flattened down and softened, you pulled back. The world may look a little blurrier now, but you felt lighter, too.
—
There wasn’t a lot left to do now. The evening had already begun to fold itself into routine, the kind they all knew by heart. Usually, it was Maki who left first — she had a strict regimen, physical health scheduled into her life with the same precision she levelled at everything else. She stood, gathering her things, then fixed the two of you with that measured, sharp-eyed stare as you held her shawl out to her.
“Thank you for the shawl,” you said, a little awkwardly.
“You’re welcome,” she replied, matter-of-fact. Then, after a beat: “You’ll be fine. Ask Yuuta for my number if you need a place to stay. My roommate’s moving out, actually, so the timing is sort of perfect.”
Your eyes widened, catching faint light from the café’s low lamps. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Maki said, shouldering her bag. “Just, it’s not a big deal. Just be… cool.”
“I can be cool,” you said, feeling defensive all too suddenly, though grateful at her proposal. You hadn’t mapped this out realistically at all. Where would you stay? How would you pay for things now?
Panda lasted another half hour before lumbering up from the couch, crumbs trailing from his shirt. He clapped Yuuta’s shoulder with a heavy hand that left an ache long after, rolling through Yuuta’s bones.
“You have so much to tell me,” he said, grin spreading wide, teeth flashing. “Can’t wait to see you Monday.”
It sounded less like enthusiasm and more like a threat. Yuuta frowned as Panda winked, shambling out into the drizzle with a parting wave.
That left Toge. He lingered the longest, nursing another cup of tea in silence, his gaze flickering between the two of you. Eventually, he stood, setting his empty mug down with a small click. Yuuta rose automatically, and you followed — nothing really left to do at the café but leave. Still, the act of standing felt imposed, almost abrupt, and guilt nipped at you, the faint sense that you had been a burden this evening.
Outside, the air was damp and cool. Inumaki hesitated by the door, then glanced at you once, at Yuuta, and back again. Without a word, he shrugged off his own coat — a dark woollen thing, faintly scented with smoke and tea — and draped it carefully over your shoulders
“Salmon,” he murmured, tone soft, almost tender.
You turned to look at Yuuta, feeling tended to, but confused nonetheless.
Yuuta, fumbling for clarity, added, “You can return it next time you see him.”
“Thank you,” you said, still confused but clutching the coat closer around yourself.
Yuuta watched, throat tightening. Something faint and warm filled his chest, blooming against the night chill.
“Um, what do you want to do now?” Yuuta asked. His voice was gentle and unassuming, as if the question cost him nothing particular or grave. Like the energy it took to move a muscle at best.
You blinked, a half-smile breaking through on your face. You expected he’d bid you farewell and wish you good luck on your way. And this would be the end of this.
You would preside after this evening only as an anecdote, a funny story to be told at parties.
“I don’t know,” you admitted, feeling lighter than you’ve felt in a year. Then, sheepishly, you speak up. “I’m hungry.”
For the first time in a long time, you heard Yuuta laugh. It’s a quiet, incredulous, almost disbelieving laughter.
You smiled. His laughter always carried this particular alchemy.
It pulled you back, just a little, to an image of a boy — slight and sunburnt, and a girl — bright and unburdened. To summer afternoons that were filled with knee scratches and ice creams, where time had stretched itself out for you and you alone. Where his laughter accompanying your own meant the evening would be well-lived and light.
Now, you’re here, years later.
“I have a bike,” he said suddenly. “I can drive us up to the high street.”
You blinked. “You have a bike,” you repeated, tone incredulous, baffled, impressed, but baffled nonetheless.
Because the Yuuta you remembered — scrawny, awkward, scared of his own shadow Yuuta — had somehow grown into this. Into a man who rode a bike. Into a man whose jacket stretched slightly over the curve of real muscle, whose hands looked steady enough to hold both the handlebars.
The thought invoked something strange within you.
“Yeah,” he said, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.
Still awkward, you concluded with a smile. Still him.
The rain had eased into a mist, soft enough to blur the streetlamps into trembling halos. Yuuta wheeled the bike out from the narrow row where it had been chained, the frame slick with water, the metal gleaming in the half-light. It wasn’t anything glamorous — but a sleek red motorbike, well-worn yet polished, the kind of machine that spoke of quiet care. You noticed it immediately, how clean it was despite the weather, as though he’d taken time to tend to it, to keep it shining.
And yet, seeing him swing his leg over it, steady and confident, made something twist unexpectedly in your chest. A strange contrast to the boy you remembered, awkward and hesitant. This was new, unfamiliar — and it unsettled you in ways you weren’t prepared to admit.
He glanced at you then, his expression caught somewhere between soft pride and embarrassment. “You, uh… you’ll have to hold on.”
The words made your pulse stutter. He said them with such plain practicality, and yet.
So you slid onto the seat behind him, hesitating for a beat before wrapping your arms around his middle. His body was warm even through the fabric of his jacket, the steady rhythm of his breath grounding you against the cool, damp air. You hadn’t realised how cold you’d been until now.
Yuuta stiffened, just slightly, then exhaled, adjusting his grip on the handlebars. “Ready?”
“Mm,” you murmured, your cheek brushing against his shoulder.
And then you were moving. The bike hummed under you, wheels hissing against the rain-dark road. The night opened itself up in streaks of light and shadow — shopfronts shuttered, puddles gleaming, the occasional car spraying water as it passed. The air rushed past, damp and sharp, tugging at your hair, carrying the faintest scent of soap and rain from his collar.
—
There were only a precious few places open at this hour. It was that liminal hour between early night and late evening. This was when the city was pausing for a brief moment to start the night — commuters were seen to be returning to their flats, and the noise emanating from cafés was thinning down to a lull as they started closing down. Yuuta was racking his brain for the different possibilities of cuisine, but the truth is, the options were few and very limited.
Yuuta walked beside you after parking near the stretch everyone colloquially called “food street,” and was turning this task over in his head, as though the very act of deciding on food were a kind of responsibility he must shoulder for you. Almost reverently, for your sake.
His mind ransacked through all the possibilities — the ramen joints with neon lights on side streets, but too shabby, and perhaps too makeshift for you. You would be a pale flare in that kind of place, the white of your dress catching every eye. Worse yet, someone might assume he was your husband and think him a figure so careless enough to drag you here on your wedding night.
Convenience stores, he thought, were too sterile, lit with fluorescent bulbs, though he suspected you hadn’t had the opportunity to have a proper meal all day. He imagined you standing there outside the store in your wedding dress, peeling back a corner of film from a microwaved meal, and recoiled. He wanted to give you a meal that wasn’t pre-sealed in plastic.
He could cook for you, he thought briefly. But the idea felt awkward, inappropriate. He hadn’t seen you in years. And you were a lady, after all.
As though he was caught in a well-timed play, his eyes immediately caught sight of red lanterns glowing above a narrow wooden doorway. He had seen this place before, always in passing, and always from the corner of his eye when he was on his way to the laundromat, but never saw a real opportunity to enter. He wasn’t one to eat out often, besides the occasional social obligations he was invited to. He preferred cooking at home. It was a private ritual he liked.
He slowed, then turned to you. Your gaze was already drawn to the lanterns.
“What do you think?” he asked, his voice soft, tentative.
You looked at the doorway, the lanterns, the promise of something warm and sustaining, and then back at him.
“Honestly,” you replied with a tired smile. “I could eat anything right now. It’s a free game.”
And so, you entered, slipping beneath the lanterns.
The interior was smaller than you had expected. There were long counters of dark wood, and some fake green plants were scattered around the corners.
There was already a bunch of patrons on occupied tables, people who seemed to be mostly office workers still in suits hunched over their bowls and plates. The air was thick with the fragrance of grilled fish, miso, and the faint scent of the bitterness of charred onion. You would eat well tonight, at least.
At the entrance stood the proprietor, who was a middle-aged man with his hair pulled back into a low knot, and his sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows. He looked up as the two of you entered, and you could tell he attempted to repress his surprise at seeing you in your state.
“Table for two, then?” he asked, his demeanour reverting to a calm assurance of someone who had seen all sorts of late-night guests pass through his doorway.
Yuuta nodded quickly. “Yes, please.”
The proprietor gestured you toward a small table tucked into the corner. You were grateful you wouldn’t catch the eyes of most of the patrons from here; you were half-shielded.
Yuuta hovered for a moment, awkwardly, unsure whether to pull the chair out for you or pretend he hadn’t thought of it, and in his hesitation, you had already firmly seated yourself with a heave of sigh, smoothing the damp folds of your dress. He followed, sitting opposite you now — dejected by his lateness.
For a moment, neither of you spoke before Yuuta picked up the menu, eyes skimming without really reading. The truth was, the act of choosing a meal seemed suddenly impossible, just as choosing a place to eat did.
You leaned over your own menu, propping your chin on one hand, watching him. Intently, he would say.
Finally, he looked up, as though catching your gaze. “Um,” he said, clearing his throat. “They have fried chicken? And, uh, a few noodle bowls. Do you—” he hesitated, “uh, want me to pick, or—”
“Yuuta,” you cut in, grinning before you could stop yourself, “I told you. Anything. I’d probably eat the menu itself if they deep-fried it.”
The waiter arrived with two glasses of iced water, setting them down with a clink. You reached for yours immediately, the cold, sweating glass delicious against your palm, and took a long swig.
“So,” you spoke up, as you propped your chin onto both your hands. “Tell me then.”
Yuuta blinked. “About?”
“About your life, I mean.”
The clarification didn’t quell any of the weight for Yuuta.
You’ll admit you did not know how to ask this without sounding intrusive, nor how to stop once you had begun.
“What do you do now? For work, I mean. Do you have a wife? Is your favourite ice-cream flavour still vanilla? What made you start riding bikes? I never, in all my life, expected to see you on a motorcycle. You look—” you paused, then smiled at him, “you look cool.”
Yuuta smiled back, a little sheepish. “I work as a physical therapist. I help people with rehabilitation after injuries, surgeries… that sort of thing.”
You considered this for a moment — and yes, it made sense. A vocation rooted in gentleness, in patience, in touch. If anyone was suited to gently coaxing people back to their bodies, it was Yuuta.
He went on, “I still like vanilla, I guess. I haven’t thought of it much, but I like butterscotch lately. I ride motorcycles because they’re cool, like you said. And because my father used to.”
A small, boyish tug crossed his mouth at the thought.
“And I don’t have a wife… not yet, at least. ”
You laughed softly at that, not unkindly, but with something between amusement and disbelief over his sheer sincerity. A lesser person, you thought, would have parried, would have given you one answer, or would have given you none at all. Yuuta, in his way, had offered you everything you asked. It was just his nature to do so.
“Well, butterscotch makes sense. They’re practically the same,” you mused, leaning back in your chair now. Your back feels relaxed against the slope of the chair.
“They’re not,” he said quickly, not defensive so much as insistent.
“They’re the same,” you grin.
Then there was a beat. It was not awkward, but suspended rather.
“And you know,” you added lightly, “the rest… It’s good to know.”
He doesn’t say anything to that. Just sort of acknowledges it the way one lets the silence do.
And so, the food arrived.
You squawked it down elegantly as you could. And Yuuta, for his part, managed to manipulate the utensils and plates on the table, quietly, to push more food toward you. Sliding dishes closer to you, turning bowls so they faced your side instead.
You must have eaten ten times more than he had. And you didn’t complain either, not as the lightheadedness that had strained you all evening began to disappear out, leaving with each full bite.
Eventually, the plates emptied out, leaving the table looking strangely naked. And though you were full, you felt a strange emptiness in realising that the night had come to its natural end as you both made your way outside.
“So,” Yuuta said, after a moment.“I can call Maki. You could stay with her tonight, if you need someplace to stay. Or… if you have a place, I can take you there.”
“I don’t—” You stopped yourself, almost like you were recalibrating. “I don’t have a place, and I really do appreciate Maki’s offer. I probably will take it. But…”
Then, suddenly, you drew inward into yourself and grew shy, in a way he had never quite seen you before.
“I just… I don’t know her. I’m sure she’s nice, but could I stay with you instead?”
His eyes grew in size over that. His apartment was small. His place is really only meant for one. But he could move, he thought. He could make space somehow.
You hurried to correct yourself. “J—just for tonight, I mean. I feel like I’m all over the place today.”
“O–of course,” he said, almost meekly. “I can take you to my house. For tonight.”
And so you hopped onto his bike again. The ride back became a scrunched rush of sensations — the street signs slid past you in a haze of bright flashes, the wind was needling through your clothes, the soaked weight of your wedding dress billowing against the wind. And without notice, you had managed to nuzzle further and further into Yuuta’s back, drawn by the heat. Something he didn’t miss, not when the contact stopped his breath in small.
—
By the time you two reached his apartment, the rain had dimmed in its volume, mere dust specks falling at an asynchronous pace.
Yuuta parked beneath the narrow space for parking outside his building. The engine died, and the sudden quietness settled.
For a moment, neither of you moved. Your arms were still around him.
“We’re here,” he said softly, not daring to be the first to move.
You blinked, as if coming alive from a dream now, and slowly unwound yourself from him. The absence of your touch left a phantom warmth in its place. Yuuta swallowed against it and swung his leg off the bike, steadying it before offering you his hand.
You took it without hesitation, as you followed him upstairs.
You climbed the stairs together, your dress grabbed carelessly in one hand. It left faint damp prints all over the cemented steps. He lived on the first floor, so it wasn’t much of a trek, but after the day you’ve had every movement had slowly started to feel like a chore.
He fumbled slightly with his keys at the door and turned before opening it. “I didn’t know I’d be hosting,” he muttered, embarrassed.
You smiled as you looked down at the state of you. The brown ends of your garb, the wet hair — “I think I’d be the last person to care about that right now, Yuuta.”
The apartment was tiny, as he’d warned you on the ride back home. A neat entryway. A quaint little kitchen to the left. A drab green sofa facing a television. A bookshelf that was, surprisingly, full — of manuals, novels, rehabilitation texts stacked in a certain order you couldn’t make sense of.
But it was clean.
And it was warm inside.
“I’ll uh… make tea. You can take a shower.”
And so, you did.
The bathroom was filled with steam that cleansed you whole, almost a baptism. Water ran over your scalp and down your spine, rinsing away the day’s dirt and the rain.
When you got out of the shower, wrapped in a dim blue towel, you walked out to the sight of clothes neatly arranged on his bed.
You dressed slowly — donning pants that fit you just about, and a large hoodie that swallowed you whole. The fabric sat heavy and warm against your skin. It smelled faintly of detergent and something sweet that brought you comfort.
When you stepped back into the living room, he was leaning against the kitchen counter, with two mugs in his hands.
He looked up.
And then his gaze stopped. The hoodie hanging loose at your thighs. The bare legs, and then his eyes shifted away.
You shifted your feet to cross the room slowly.
“Thank you,” you said, taking the mug from his hand, your fingers brushing his.
“Careful,” he murmured, watching as you brought the mug to your lips. “...It’s hot.”
You settled onto the green sofa, tucking one leg beneath you, blowing softly over the surface of the tea. He remained where he was, leaning against the counter.
“Are you going to stand there all night?” you asked, one eyebrow arched.
He felt his throat tighten as he walked up to place himself beside you on the sofa, leaving a careful inch of space between the two of you — a morally measured inch.
He puts the television on, his only saviour against the awkwardness of the silence befalling. There is a channel that’s playing a reality show of some sort — the ones that have giant balls of cushions that contestants seem to be bouncing off of. It’s strange, but it’ll do, he thinks, turning to look at you, to find you oddly invested.
He smiles.
You finish your cup eventually, placing it down on the table with a clink as you no longer seem invested in the TV but more so, his face.
You keep turning to stare at him, and he notices this in his periphery but can’t bring himself to meet your gaze.
And when he finally does, moments later. “I should get the bed ready for you,” he said, already half-rising.
“Don’t go,” you said, immediately as your hand closed around his.
He stops.
“What?” he had managed to breathe out.
Your thumb rubbed against the top of his hand. “Just stay for a bit.”
He sits, noticing how you don’t let go of his hand. You seem enamoured by his hand and its anatomy, running your hands across and over it as though you were a sculptor trying to understand the shape of him.
He doesn’t say anything, as he sits there feeling every touch of yours — it scorches against his own skin. Marking him whole.
“We need to sleep,” he said as he felt your movements slowing, though his voice lacked conviction. “Eventually.”
“Must we?” You tilted your head, mischief skimming over your features. “Can we not stay up all night like we used to?”
“I have work,” he says. But what he really wanted to say was he’d stay up all week for you if you had simply asked.
“Right,” you said, dejected if only for a moment. “I’ll let you go then.”
But neither of you moved.
He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a thought, one that’s been brimming to the surface ever since you walked into the cafe to find him.
“You left your wedding,” he said, plainly.
“Yes.” You met his eyes without flinching.
“And you came to me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
And then the room seems to contract around him.
“Yuuta,” you say. His name is careful in your mouth. Delicate.
He waits. His pulse is unpleasantly loud in his ears.
“Don’t you know why?” you said, your eyes low now.
Something in him breaks just then.
He breathed in before he leaned toward you. It wasn’t sudden, not when he had imagined this for years despite his wits asking him not to. He stopped mere inches from you, as he waited. For you to initiate this, for you to come to him.
And you did — meeting his lips halfway, pulling him into a kiss. The contact was warm, your lips moved against him languidly, like you both had all the time in the world.
His hand rose at last, tentatively finding its way to what he could grab first — your waist. You drew him closer in reply, your fingers sliding upward, curling up the fabric of his t-shirt sitting on his shoulder.
The absurd laughter from the television carried on as you continued to kiss, tongues lapping against one another for the very first time.
He’s sure this is a memory that will etch itself in his brain for eternity to come.
Yuuta pulled away after a moment, his lips still close enough to brush yours.
“Are you su—”
You kiss him again, firmer this time, though still tender. It is an answer, or perhaps a refusal of the question.
“S’okay,” you murmur when you part. Your forehead rests against his.
“You left me,” he says.
“I did.”
“For years.”
“I did.”
“Don’t ever—” He stops. His heart aches just then as he tries again. “Again—”
“I won’t,” you say. You don’t hesitate. “I won’t ever leave you again, Yuuta.”
You think, distantly, that this feels more binding than anything you might have said at your wedding today, standing in front of your family, standing in front of that stranger for a fiancé.
“Don’t just say that,” he warned, though his voice had softened, as though he remembered the hurt all over again.
“I do not,” you answered. “I missed you too much to leave you again.”
He drew you closer this time, to let your head settle beneath his chin, as his cheek rested against your hair.
“I kept thinking about you,” he says eventually. His voice vibrates faintly against your temple. “Even when I tried not to.”
“Yeah?” You say. Curious, wanting to know the deep imprints you had left on him.
“Yeah,” he said. “All through college.”
“Today,” you say carefully. You hear hum in response.
“When I was getting ready, I was left alone for a moment. The moment before I’d have to go out and walk to the altar,” you continue. “I thought that the dress I was wearing felt too tight, and I never wanted a veil, but my mother wore one, so I had to as well. And I thought about the last time I felt happy — I mean, truly happy — was when I was a teenager.”
Yuuta doesn’t say anything, but you notice his arm enclosing you further into him. He’s warm against your skin.
“And now I don’t know what I’m doing. I ran,” you said. “And now I’m here with you.”
He exhales slowly, his hand moving along your arm. “You don’t have to decide everything tonight,” he says. “You don’t have to decide the rest of your life tonight.”
You tilt your head up at him. “But I already did one big thing. Life-changing big thing.”
“You just ran from a wedding,” he says gently.
A small huff of laughter leaves your mouth. “You always did that.”
“Did what?”
“Make things less catastrophic,” you added. “That’s part of why I ran to you today. Well, that and you know.”
“Yeah,” he says plainly. He knows.
You shift, drawing your knees up slightly, turning toward him more fully. “Are you sure about this?”
“What about?” He asks, surprised.
“I’m a burden,” you say.
“You’re never a burden,” he replies immediately.
“No,” you say, your finger coming up to hush him. “Listen to me, I have no skills outside of sustaining an audience of wealthy people. I have a degree that I didn’t enjoy. And I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m a burden”
“Like I said,” he says then. His hand comes up to brush your hair back. “You don’t have to think about that tonight. And it’s okay, I’ll take care of you until you figure things out.”
“You think I can just… reappear and take up space in your life again?” You ask.
His jaw flexes. “You already have.”
You reach up, smoothing a wrinkle near his collarbone — a meaningless gesture, an excuse to touch him again. “You’re not angry?”
“I’m just happy you’re here with me,” he admits. He thought it was only ever possible in his dreams. Now that you’re here, it was hard to hold any resentment he had built up.
And you then at some point you’re helping him place the cups back as you sit and watch him make up his bed for you.
You walked up to him now.
“Thank you,” you say, though you knew the words feel insufficient.
“Of course,” he replies quickly. “Do you need extra pillo—”
He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as you suddenly inched forward to kiss him. Your hand loops around his neck as his hands find your waist. And he keeps kissing you fervently and your mind wanders, onto images of him in college kissing other girls. It’s a silly thing — to be bothered by a version of him that you left and hurt, finding solace in other women.
You fall onto the bed at some point with him over you, he pulls back.
“Sorry,” you murmur, smiling up at him. “You were asking me something?”
He laughs, but it catches in his throat. He looks away, as if the ceiling suddenly had a large stain.
“Yuuta,” you rasped. “Look at me, please.”
You moved his face to make him meet your imploring gaze. You found his expression to be open, almost boyish in its vulnerability.
“I don’t know what to say,” he admits, ducking his head into your neck, away from your eye contact again, “You make me nervous…”
You run your hand through his hair, grazing up and down his nape. He likes the sensation. He thinks he could rest here forever.
It was safe to say that you were aware of your effect on him, whether it was physical, as you feel him against you now, or mental, but hearing it out loud is different.
“I make you nervous?” You ask, trying to maintain a sense of mischief in your tone, but it simmers down and is overpowered by a genuine curiosity and amazement.
“Yeah,” he says, looking up at you now. “You always have.”
At that, you scrunch your brows. It’s a brief reflex of disbelief. “Not always. We were friends, weren’t we?”
“We were,” he says. We are. “But you made me nervous. You just didn’t see it back then. You always made me nervous.”
“Why?”
“You were so pretty,” he says, strangely unabashed.
“You are,” he says, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from your face. His fingers linger there, grazing your temple, your cheek. “You are pretty.”
“So pretty,” he murmured, bending down to kiss your neck now, no doubt tomorrow you’d be blessed with flurries of red kisses all over your neck.
You clothes didn’t last long on you after that and you soon found yourself bare atop his bedsheets as he licked and sucked his way along the vast skin he had since left exposed.
He was moving so languidly, but you were wound tight like the string of a bow.
“Yuuta,” you said then, as you was leaving kissing your stomach. “You’re good at this.”
“Thanks,” he says briefly, too invested in kissing down your abdomen.
“No,” you say, pulling his head up forcefully now. “You’re really good at this. Had a lot of experience in college, did you?”
He looked up then, just with his eyes to gauge if this was a real concern or if this was you being you. Teasing.
“Always knew you’d be a possessive one,” he said plainly.
“The most,” you said with a pout.
He came back up then, kissing your cheek.
“Good,” he replied softly. “Means you plan on keeping me this time.”
“Hey,” he said again, more softly. “Was that a real question?”
You hesitated. That was answer enough.
“I dated,” he confessed simply, his arm moving to hold your hip. “A little.” Honest as always.
Your stomach dips.
“But it was never…” He pauses. “It was never you.” Honest as always, you think again.
You frown faintly. “That’s not fair.”
“I’m not just saying this.” His thumb moves absently against your side. “I liked some of them. They were kind. But I always knew it was you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he affirmed plainly.
“And you?” he says then, coming back down to kiss your stomach. “You were about to marry someone.”
That one lands, as you find him inches away from your clit.
You swallow.
“He was,” you admit as he was about to press a kiss against your trembling thigh, “Boring.”
And then your knees part, your cunt is fully on display. And you don’t think you’ve ever felt this bare before. You watch in your own awe as Yuuta licks his lips and finally presses his mouth to your clit.
You have an instant reaction, what with the way you buck into his mouth and release a struggling moan. His thumb seems to massage your outer lips, with his tongue trailing up and down your folds.
His lips suction against the bundle of nerves, with his tongue caressing the nub right after. Rolling up and down as he groans into you.
You can’t hold back the string of moans and whimpers that emerge from your throat, your eyes roll back into your skull, as your legs vibrate, your hands yank on Yuuta's hair, before you find your brain turn to mush.
He comes back up, his mouth slick as he says, “Think he could do that?” with a smirk.
Your hand comes up to brush your thumb along his jaw. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“You were gone for years,” he says. “Think this is the least I’m allowed.”
“Oh, is this payback then?” you ask.
“Not payback,” he says, his hand coming down to finger your slick pussy. “If you’re enjoying this, can it be considered payback?”
“Yuuta, please,” you whimpered, your hand reaching out for whatever skin of his they could find purchase in.
“Please what?” he asked gently, kissing the corner of your mouth as your hand moved to feel his shoulder blades.
“Need you,” you whined, turning to kiss him. You pulled back, “Now.”
“Need me?” he repeated your words against your mouth.
You nodded.
Yuuta reached down to guide one of your legs up and bent back towards your hip, looping it to rest in the slope around his waist.
He took his cock in hand, moving up and down against your clit a couple of times before he pushed in.
It was a welcoming burn as he moved a couple of times before you adjusted to the sensation of him inside you.
Your hands slid up to brush against the short strands of Yuuta’s undercut.
“Is this okay?” He asked, then placed a soft kiss against the corner of your lips, as though soothing you through the stretch.
“More,” you pleaded, pulling him into the crook of your neck.
Yuuta snapped his hips up hard into you, sheathing himself entirely inside of you. A moan tore out of you again.
“Shit,” Yuuta breathed, eyes squeezing shut as he kept moving. “You’re so pretty.”
You trembled beneath him, your eyes drawing down to the sight of him pulling in and out, in and out, you were mesmerised at the sight of him, sweat sheening as he looked so vulnerable for you.
He set a rhythmic, steady pace, it was almost languid. His movements weren’t quick, but rather, they were deep, pressing you down into the mattress so hard with every move of his hips.
His thumb came down to brush against your clit, gently at first and then a little firmer when he saw the way it made your expression go glassy and unfocused.
“I’m gonna come,” you declared. “Kiss me.”
And so he did, bending down as he kept his movements steady, kissing you deeply.
“‘m close too,” he groaned against your lips now, coming up to brush another unfocused kiss against your forehead, as his panting breaths caught on.
And then you came, your legs trembling as he kept moving. Soon after, he did too, craning down to crash his mouth to yours, his hips stuttering.
Yuuta collapsed beside you, catching his breath as you moved to fall onto his bare chest. Like clockwork, his arms gathered you against him, slowly then drawing circles against your back.
The adrenaline that carried you through the evening has finally begun to dissipate, leaving only a heavy drowsiness in its wake.
Your head droops heavy against his chest.
“You’re exhausted,” he murmurs.
You shake your head weakly in protest. Your fingers have slowed against him. Your breathing has deepened.
“I don’t want to sleep,” you admit softly. “I want to stay up and talk to you all night.”
“There’s always tomorrow,” he replied, voice mirroring your softness, as the circles on your back never falter.
You swallowed.
“I feel like if I close my eyes, I’ll wake up back there.”
He didn’t hesitate. “You won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” His hand flattened briefly against your spine, firm. Present. “You’ll wake up tomorrow to a tray full of breakfast and some flowers.”
That made you lift your head. Just enough to look at him.
“You’re getting me flowers?” You smiled.
“Yeah,” he said. “Now that we’re…” he trailed off, still too timid to admit it.
You tilted your head. “Dating?”
“…Yeah.” The word came out softer than before. “I’ll buy you flowers every day.”
A tired laugh slipped out of you, warm against his skin.
“That’s a bit much,” you murmured, shifting so you could see the small, earnest curve of his mouth.
“Oh?” he said, one brow lifting. “Thought that was the kind of treatment princess was used to.”
You reached up, brushing your fingers along his jaw before leaning in to press a slow kiss to his lips.
“Princess will settle for kisses every day for now,” you said against him. “If that’s okay.”
He hummed softly, the sound vibrating beneath your cheek as you settled back down. His arms tightened, just slightly, as you listened to his heartbeat.
And when your eyes finally closed, he was still drawing circles on your back.
𝙔𝙐𝙏𝘼'𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙏𝙔𝙋𝙀 𝙏𝙊 give you corny nicknames. Like angel, sweetheart, honey. he says them in such a soft tone, even when he's angry, it makes you weak in the knees
𝙔𝙐𝙏𝘼'𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙏𝙔𝙋𝙀 𝙏𝙊 try to learn how to make the meals and sweets that you like. he, himself, doesn't have much interest in food (canon!) but if his partner loves a certain meal, he'd want to know how to make it to please you.
𝙔𝙐𝙏𝘼'𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙏𝙔𝙋𝙀 𝙏𝙊 go easy on you during training. not because he thinks you're weak, but because he's really afraid of hurting you in any way. if you ask him to go all out, he'll just nervously scratch the back of his neck and nod, giving in a little to your request but not enough to actually leave any bruises.
𝙔𝙐𝙏𝘼'𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙏𝙔𝙋𝙀 𝙏𝙊 take random pictures of you so that when he's abroad, he'll have all of those pictures to look at whenever he misses you and can't call you due to the time difference.
𝙔𝙐𝙏𝘼'𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙏𝙔𝙋𝙀 𝙏𝙊 never get mad at you. no matter how you try to get on his nerves, he'll just give you a smile and say '' i could never be mad at you, angel. you can keep trying '' which makes you blush every time
𝙔𝙐𝙏𝘼'𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙏𝙔𝙋𝙀 𝙏𝙊 love love love love giving you forehead kisses. his favourite places to kiss you would be your forehead 100%. you could be crying on his shoulders, he'll take your cheeks in his rough hands and give you a forehead kiss, telling you that he's always going to be there for you no matter what
𝙔𝙐𝙏𝘼'𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙏𝙔𝙋𝙀 𝙏𝙊 make pinky promises with you, interlacing both of your pinkies and touching thumbs as well. he calls it the promise kiss because your thumbs look like they're kissing.
𝙔𝙐𝙏𝘼'𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙏𝙔𝙋𝙀 𝙏𝙊 love holding your hands. i see him as the time to fully grasp your hand in his, rub his thumb on the back of your hand while smiling happily to himself, swinging your arms back and forth.
𝙔𝙐𝙏𝘼'𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙏𝙔𝙋𝙀 𝙏𝙊 be your anchor forever and ever, no matter what happens between the two of you, he'll always be there for you, rooting for you whether it's by your side or from the shadows (he'd rather it be the first option though)
summary: when you and okkotsu-senpai finish a mission, it’s already late, so you offer to book a room for the night. after all, it’s the least you can do since he did most of the exorcising. you’re famously known in the tokyo campus for not paying enough attention to details, so is it really your fault that you mistakenly booked a room at a love hotel?
warning(s): 18+, MDNI, explicit sexual content, senpai-kouhai relationship, dirty-minded!reader, feral!yuuta, first time, praise, handjobs, fingering, usage of lube, penetrative sex, protected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), squirting
word count: 4.64k (it’s shorter this time, since there’s no worldbuilding)
author’s notes: all characters are aged up to 18+. this takes place post-jjk. reader’s a second-year while yuuta’s a third-year. reader is inspired by marin kitagawa from my dress-up darling. support banners and dividers are made by @saradika-graphics. images are from pinterest!
You manage to dodge the curse’s strike by summoning the water from the overhead pipes and sliding your way out. With that, you continue gliding through the path, baiting the curse into following you.
Only when you reach the main annex do you finally stop and face the monster. It takes a lunge, intending to swallow you in one gulp. You raise your arms up, summoning a large volume of water from the reservoir below. You surround the cursed spirit with the water before freezing it solid.
You bark out, “Senpai! Now!”
Okkotsu-senpai jumps from the ledge above, his katana strengthened by a flare of his cursed energy. He swings the blade, and the frozen cursed spirit is instantly bisected in half before it explodes, dissipating into dark dust, and the ice encasing it shatters into shards.
You groan at the curse’s innards drenching you from head to toe. “Eww! Now, I’m all covered in curse gunk!”
“Sorry about that,” your senior lands on his feet beside you. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he’s in a similar state to yours. “Besides, it’s nothing a little water can fix.”
Using your technique, you summon water from your waterskin to cleanse the gunk from your and Okkotsu-senpai’s clothes.
“There! Good as new!” You grin, admiring your handiwork. “Well, almost. I can’t do anything about the blood. It already seeped too much into the fabric.”
He smiles, noting, “You already did better than anything I could have done. Good job on freezing the curse. It mustn’t have been easy.”
“I’m not the one who killed it,” you counter. Trapping a curse is an entirely different matter from exorcising it.
“Still, I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“You’re a really bad liar, Senpai,” you punch his shoulder lightly before checking the time on your phone. “It’s already one in the morning? This mission took longer than I thought.”
“Should we stay at a hotel?” He offers. “I can book some rooms for us. I’ll pay.”
You shake your head. “You already paid for dinner earlier, and it was so expensive, too. I’ll book the rooms and we can split the bill. Okay?”
You hold your fist out, and Okkotsu-senpai chuckles before bumping his fist with yours. “Okay.”
You ring the call bell, waking the receptionist, a young woman only a few years older than you.
“I booked a room.” You inform her. “It should be under ___.”
She checks her computer, in the meanwhile, scrutinising the slightly torn and bloodied school uniforms of you and Okkotsu-senpai.
Your senpai explains for both of you. “We’re jujutsu sorcerers. We were on a mission.”
Ever since the Culling Games, jujutsu sorcery and curses became public knowledge, and some sorcerers have become known as public figures.
The receptionist’s eyes widen as she recognises him. “OMG, you’re one of the guys who fought Ryomen Sukuna! I am such a big fan!”
You mischievously grin at how fast Okkotsu-senpai turns red at her sudden praise. “Looks like someone here is a big celebrity.”
He’s sheepish, shaking his head at the receptionist. “I’m not really a big deal. Can we just get checked in now?”
“Of course!” She’s suddenly more diligent at her job. “You’re in luck. There’s an available deluxe suite, so I’ll upgrade you. Free of charge!”
“You don’t have to-”
You shut Okkotsu-senpai up by discreetly driving your elbow into his ribs. “Thank you so much! You’re a great gal!”
“Well, it’s the least I can do for Japan’s saviours!” She chirps before handing you the key card. “I see you’ve booked an overnight stay, so don’t worry about making a mess, because here at Serenity, we don’t shame people!”
You aren’t sure why she said that, but you figure it must be some sort of company-mandated slogan, so you nod at her before you and Okkotsu-senpai make your way to the elevator.
It isn’t until you unlock the door to your room that you realise why exactly she had given you a thumbs-up earlier.
Right in the middle of the large king-size bed (you had clearly booked a twin room earlier), there is a box filled with condoms, all sorts of lube, and plenty of sex toys. There’s softcore porn playing on the TV, and rose petals are scattered on the floor leading to the bed, where the ceiling is essentially a large mirror.
You take a look at your senpai. If you thought he was red earlier, Okkotsu-senpai’s face is threatening to burn up.
You take out your phone and open the app you had used to book your room, then you finally notice the small byline underneath the logo.
Serenity Hotel
Don’t be ashamed. Discover a new world!
It finally clicks.
You had accidentally booked a room with Okkotsu Yuuta at a love hotel.
…
Oops.
“Oh crap! A love hotel, huh?” You laugh. Being more open-minded, you are not as bothered by it as the man beside you. You practically bounce over to the bed where you bend over to see the box more closely, not realising your skirt is riding up slightly, revealing a sliver of your lacy, pastel pink panties. You pay no mind to your senior’s shriek, figuring he just caught a glimpse of the porn playing on the screen. “Wow, Senpai, look at all this! There must be at least twenty condoms in here, and look at the size of this dildo! It’s huge! Now, this is what you call service!”
“___-san!” Okkotsu-senpai chokes when you wave the flesh-coloured phallus around like a baton. He rushes over and takes it away from you, shoving it into the box before slamming it shut.
“You’re being really loud, Senpai,” you banter good-naturedly before opening the box and taking the dildo out. “It’s just a dick. Well, a fake one, but everyone has seen one. It’s crazy big, though. Eight inches. For a love hotel, they should be a bit more realistic. Ooh, look at these vibrators. They really go all out!”
His face is bright red as he tries to take the sex toys away from you while you’re examining them with a morbid sense of curiosity. “Stop it! We’re still students, so we shouldn’t be handling these sorts of items. Besides, eight is just average-”
Hearing him say the last sentence makes you drop the bullet vibrator. “Average? Eight is average?”
He seems to realise that he has revealed a bit too much personal information. “No- I mean-”
“Does Okkotsu-senpai have a big dick?” You think while unconsciously looking at his crotch. He’s one of the taller guys on campus, easily over 180 cm, so it would make sense.
“Senpai~~~ this isn’t how you should treat your kouhai ♡”
You and Okkotsu-senpai turn to look at the TV, where the male actor is roughly fucking the female actress from behind. He is entirely naked while she is wearing a school uniform, her shirt unbuttoned to reveal her big boobs that are heavily swinging with every thrust. The plap-plap-plap sounds echo throughout the suite.
Okkotsu-senpai looks like he just died inside. You pick up the DVD case (you didn’t think they still existed) from the bedside table
“I’m Staying In A Love Hotel With My Senpai. Ha! Talk about a total coincidence!” You jest before noticing a dessert menu. Your eyes light up. “Ooh, Senpai! They serve cheesecake here, and it’s crazy cheap, too! Let’s share one!”
“That sounds nice- Hey, wait a second here!” He cuts himself off.
“What a sudden change in your emotional state.” You comment.
“How are you so chill about this?” He asks, panicked. “We’re in a love hotel right now, and-”
“I’m cumming~~~♡”
Realising that the porn is still playing, he quickly swipes the remote to turn the TV off, face scarlet-red. He’s blushing so much that you could probably fry an egg on top of his face.
“It’s not professional,” he finishes, avoiding eye contact.
You blink, wondering why he’s so embarrassed about it. It’s not like he’s going to do anything to you. You know he’s not that type of guy, but then again, you know that you are more open-minded than most people, so you take pity on him.
“I’m sorry, Senpai, since this is my fault, but we already paid for the room, so it’s a waste if we just leave now.” You calmly explain to him. “If we ignore all the other stuff, in the end, it’s just a room, right?”
He closes his eyes, cancelling out all the sex stuff and compartmentalising his thoughts. It is just a room, and you've already paid for it. He doesn’t want you to waste your money.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I was just freaking out about all this stuff.”
“You don’t have to apologise to me,” you shake your hands before adding on. “Senpai, you might want to call your girlfriend, though. I don’t think she’s going to be happy with us sharing a room.”
Okkotsu-senpai blinks in confusion. “What girlfriend?”
“Aren’t you and Maki-senpai dating?” How could they not be? They’re always stuck at each other’s hips. “I could have sworn Panda-senpai said something before.”
“No, Maki and I are just friends.” He should really tell the cursed corpse to stop telling people otherwise. “What about you and Itadori-kun?”
“HUH? Me and Yuji?” You exclaim loudly, acting as if he just insulted your entire being. “Why on earth would you ever think that?”
“I mean, you’re so close, and you call each other by your given names-”
“That’s only because we knew each other back in elementary school!” You loudly cut him off. “I once saw him eat his own boogers! Besides, he’s not my type at all.”
“So, there’s no chance-”
“No way in hell.” You suddenly become serious, more than he has ever seen you before. “Not even if we’re the only two people left in the world and Tengen-sama orders us to repopulate the Earth. No. Way.”
“O-okay.” Even when a part of him is relieved that you and Itadori aren’t an item, he can’t help but feel sorry for the pink-haired young man.
After hiding the damn box, Yuuta finally relaxes and scrolls on his phone while lying on his side of the bed. He had already separated the bed into two halves by laying down the small cushions right down the middle. He had offered to sleep on the couch, which is more than large enough, but you persisted, saying that he had worked so hard earlier and earned a good night’s sleep.
He isn’t sure that he can fall asleep in the same bed as you, his crush of nearly a year.
At first, it was just an attraction. You are, in Yuuta’s opinion, a very beautiful young woman, and he couldn’t help but be fascinated by you, whether you were laughing with the rest of the second-years or bending water to fight your enemies.
Then, he got to know you more after spending time with you, and before he knew it, he fell head over heels for your cheerful personality. Even though you and he are polar opposites, you have become a bright, shining light in his small world.
Yuuta could hear the pitter-patter of water as you are taking a shower in the bathroom. He absent-mindedly looks away from his phone and turns to his left, freezing at what he sees next.
The frosted, translucent glass that separated the bathroom from the rest of the suite is now crystal-clear. It must have been one of those technological glass screens because now he is staring at your entire naked backside as you rinse the shampoo from your hair. For a few seconds, Yuuta can’t seem to breathe as his eyes follow the trail of water flowing from the showerhead to your back and down to your shapely ass.
It is only when blood rushes downwards and his cock starts engorging itself, that Yuuta finally snaps out of it. He sits back up, facing away from you. He looks down and sees the prominent bulge in his pants, groaning mentally.
“Shit. Fuck. Damn it. What should I do?”
This isn’t the first time he has gotten an erection. He is a healthy young man, after all, but you are literally in the same room as him, and Yuuta doesn’t want to look more like a creep than he already does. He can’t just rub one out when you’re wet and naked in the bathroom, no matter how tempting it is.
“Okay, Yuuta, you just have to blue-ball it away. You’ve done that plenty of times. You can do it now. Just think, Yuuta. Think. Okay, let’s see. Sweaty socks, that mission you had a week ago, kissing Kurourushi.”
Thinking about the Special-Grade cockroach spirit finally makes his dick slump down, and Yuuta breathes out a sigh of relief. He could still hear you humming some kind of anime opening theme.
This is going to be a long night.
Even though every light in the suite has been turned off, you still can’t sleep. Usually, you’re able to doze off as soon as your head hits the pillow, but you can’t seem to fall asleep even though it has been around half an hour since you got ready for bed.
You turn to your right. Okkotsu-senpai is lying on his side, facing away from you.
“Senpai, are you still awake?” You whisper.
For a few seconds, you don’t get an answer, so you shift slightly, assuming he’s already asleep when you hear his voice.
“Yes, I’m still awake,” he says, sitting back up, facing you. “___-san, are you having trouble falling asleep?”
You sit up, groaning dramatically, “For real, and I had such a nice shower earlier!”
He flushes red, remembering unintentionally seeing you in the nude.
“You should have taken a shower, Senpai!” You continue chattering on. “The products they provide are pretty high-quality.”
For some reason, he just washed his face earlier, and when you asked him why, he just said he was more of a morning shower type while avoiding looking at you.
“I’m good,” Yuuta doesn’t want you to find out about the glass screen.
You and Okkotsu-senpai lie back down and stay quiet for a few minutes, just looking up at the mirrored ceiling, before you suddenly blurt out a question you have been thinking about for the past hour, and what most likely has been keeping you up. “Is eight really average?”
He chokes, something you have been causing him to do for the entirety of the night. He splutters, “___-san!”
“What? We’re both adults here, so it’s fine.” You prop yourself on your elbow, unintentionally causing the collar of your hotel pyjamas to swoop down slightly, revealing a hint of your cleavage, torturing him even more. “I Googled it earlier, and data says that eight is like in the 90th percentile.”
“Why are you researching stuff like that in the first place?” He asks, puzzled as to why you would do such a thing. He already knows he’s above average, but he doesn’t expect you to know that.
“Because I’m curious!” You exclaim. “What? Girls can’t be interested in that sort of stuff?”
“O-of course, you can-”
“Right? So, is eight average or not?”
“IT’S NOT!” Okkotsu-senpai yells out loud in embarrassment. He slumps down before repeating in a quieter tone, “I-it’s above average.”
You sit back up, clapping your hands and whooping. “Knew it! I have to say, Senpai, I didn’t expect that from you-”
Suddenly, a loud masculine groan cuts you off, followed by a thumping sound from above.
“Sora-chan, you ride me so well.”
“I-I can’t. Kaito-kun, you’re so big~~”
“My little slut takes that big dick so well.”
The thumping repeats more rapidly after that, and for the first time of the night, you feel your face flush. The reality that couples go to love hotels for the sole reason of having sex hits you. You take a look at your senior, wondering if his chest and shoulders have always been that broad before your eyes trail down and you notice a large tent in his pants.
“Um, Senpai, your- you have-”
He follows your gaze and lets out a sound of pure mortification before covering it with a pillow. He stands up before apologising to you, spluttering his words. “I-I’m so sorry! I’m just gonna go to the bathroom!”
Before he could run off, you grab his wrist, stopping him in his tracks before whispering, your voice faint. “Senpai, I-I could help you.”
“What?”
“I-I have always liked you, but then everything happened.” You confess to him, looking down at the floor. You remember the first time you ever saw him. You were with Yuji and Choso, the three of you fighting off Naoya when his presence caught you off guard. Sure, he was the executioner sent to kill Yuji, but you also thought that if the circumstances were ideal, you would so totally hit that.
Then, it turned out he was faking the whole villain era, and he was actually a sweetheart under all of the ‘I can kill you without blinking an eye’ thing he got going on, and you decided that after all of this was over, you were definitely going to jump his bones.
However, you saw how close he was with Maki, and you got scared. Maki is everything you aspire to be as a sorceress: fierce, independent, strong, and smoking hot. Of course, she and Okkotsu-senpai had to be dating.
“I thought you were Maki-senpai’s boyfriend, and it turns out you’re not.” You look up, finally meeting his gaze before you start whining. “I mean, honestly, I’ve been giving you hints all night, and you won’t even- umph!”
He interrupts you by leaning down and slamming his lips on to yours. Your teeth crash awkwardly before your lips weave together. You melt into him as his hand clutches the back of your head, leaning himself inwards until he is on top of you. His tongue slips inside your mouth and you moan as your own hands travel downwards.
You hesitantly separate from those soft lips as you fumble with the buttons of his shirt. “Senpai, your shirt-”
“Don’t call me Senpai.” He mumbles before pulling your hands away. He pulls his shirt off, revealing toned muscles from years of hard work. His six-pack is clearly defined, and he has a slight happy trail. You lick your lips, your mouth watering at the sight of the man you have been lusting over for the past year. “Say my name.”
“Yuuta.” You whisper, feeling his erection get even harder as he throbs against your thigh. Your fingers brush the waistband of his pants. “Please, I want to see.”
He gulps, finding your begging to be particularly arousing, especially when you are the one who is so shy and quiet, while he is relatively calm. This is already better than any wet dream he ever had of you.
He pulled down the elastic of his pyjama pants, revealing a hefty bulge straining through his dark blue boxers. Under your steady gaze, he strips off the final layer of his clothes.
Your eyes widen at the sight of his erect cock. Yuuta is definitely as huge as the dildo you played around with earlier. He is flushed at the tip, throbbing with thick veins.
You move closer to him before tentatively touching him with the tip of your index finger. His breath hitches at your delicate touch. You take that as a sign to move forward, and you wrap your hand around his thick girth. You slowly pump your hand up and down before stroking him.
“Yuuta, you’re huge.” You look up at him while fondling him, slowly spreading his leaking pre-cum all over his length. His eyes that stare back at you are dark, his pupils almost blown out, and glazed over. “How are you going to fit inside me?”
“We’ll make it work.” He pulls your hand away from his dick before he pulls your shirt off, revealing your heaving breasts. He gets on top of you once more, and you become aware of your reflection in the mirrored ceiling. His upper body covers most of your body, and his long limbs are well-muscled and defined. You declare to yourself mentally that Okkotsu Yuuta has the firmest ass in the whole campus.
Yuuta plants soft and gentle kisses all over you, from your face to your lips, before trailing down to your neck, and finally, the valley between your breasts. His lips graze the side of your left breast, and you feel his hot breath on your nipple before he swallows it.
“Yuuta! Senpai! Ah!” You didn’t even know your voice could go up that high as you knock your head back, arching your back. His wet tongue swirls around your nipple before biting it gently, not hard enough for it to hurt, but definitely enough for you to feel pleasure. “Do you like my tits?”
“Your mouth… I swear.” He growls before focusing his attention on your other nipple, causing you to pant and gasp as he gropes your boob. “This body. I could worship you for days and nights, and it still won’t be enough.”
His dick slides between your legs, where your juices have drenched your pants. Maybe it’s a side-effect of your technique, or maybe it’s because of how excited you are to finally lose your virginity to Yuuta. Either one is plausible.
He pulls away from your tits, and you whine, wanting him to touch you more, but he hushes you by placing his index finger on your parted lips.
“Take the rest of your clothes off.” He instructs you, his voice melodic and seductive. “I need to get something.”
You aren’t the type that tolerates getting told what to do, but you obey every single word, hurriedly stripping off your pants and lacy panties. You impatiently wait for him before Yuuta returns to the bed with a bottle of lube. You see that he has already put a condom on, the latex sheath stretched over his cock.
He gets in between your legs before squirting the lube generously on his cock. He rubs himself, ensuring he is generously lubricated. He squirts out more lube onto his fingers before tracing your nether lips, and you feel goosebumps erupt all over your skin.
“Are you sure you still want this?” Yuuta asks.
Your heart skips a beat. How on Earth is he so cute, sexy, kind, handsome, and so wonderful, all at the same time?
You lean up to kiss him, cupping his face with your hands. Unlike your first kiss, this one is softer, and you sigh as his lips move against yours, deepening the kiss.
You pull away from him, looking at him with eyes that are full of nothing but love and adoration. “I have never been more sure of anything in my life.”
Yuuta kisses your cheek before nipping your ear gently. His lubed index finger circles your clit before slipping inside you, and you tremble at the intrusion. “Shit, ___, you’re so fucking tight.”
While you are a virgin, you are more than familiar with the art of fingering, but only with your own fingers. Yuuta’s fingers are longer and thicker, and you could already feel him reaching deeper inside you. You bite your lip as you choke back a moan. “A-another. You can put in another finger. Please, Yuuta.”
You lean your forehead on his shoulder as he works his middle finger inside, slowly scissoring you, stretching you out to prepare you.
“Yuuta, please. I’m begging you.” You cry out. “Please make love to me.”
“Really? I can stretch you out more.”
You nod your head furiously. Your cheeks are flushed, the atmosphere is too hot and hazy that you barely even feel him pulling his fingers out of you.
Yuuta lines his cock at your pussy, the head brushing against your sensitive bundle of nerves, before he slowly pushes himself inside. He slowly works you open, watching every single reaction you give as he pushes himself to the hilt.
You inhale sharply at the feeling of him fully inside you.
He groans, his voice deeper than usual. You are unbelievably hot, tight and wet around him, and you’re squeezing him. “___, are you in any pain?”
“N-No.” You stammer. Your reflection shows you dishevelled and sweaty. Your hands hang on to his broad shoulders. “I just feel so full, and you feel so incredible. Oh, Yuuta! Please fuck me! Please!”
Yuuta grabs one hand onto the headboard before undulating his hips, setting a rhythm. Before you know it, you are moaning loudly, gripping the sheets as he pushes himself in and out of you.
“Faster!” You sob as you push your hips up, eager to meet his thrusts. Without pulling out of you, Yuuta adjusts your body to the side, settling your ankle over his shoulder. He gyrates his hips, meeting your thrusts harshly. “F-fuck! H-how are you so good!”
You buck against him, feeling the knot in your stomach getting tighter with every erratic thrust. You would not be surprised if your moans and his groans are overheard by the guests in the next room. If not, they would at least hear the sharp sounds of his hips smacking against your ass.
“___! I’m close!” Yuuta confesses. “A-are you?”
“My clit! Please, Yuuta, I want to cum with you!”
He wildly teases your clit, pinching it as he pounds into you. Finally, you convulse as he pushes you over the edge. Your spongy walls squeeze him as your orgasm floods your entire being, and your cunt releases your juices, squirting around his cock.
“I’M CUMMING!”
Yuuta’s hips stutter before he groans your name. You feel the hot warmth of his semen through the thin condom as he empties himself inside you, balls-deep.
After both of you come down from your highs, he pulls out of you. Yuuta slumps down beside you, being careful not to crush you with his weight. He pulls you into his arms as he brushes your sweaty fringe back.
“___, I love you.” He says.
You can feel his rapid heartbeat as you reply, “I love you, too, Yuuta.”
You avoid the playful gaze of the receptionist after she asks if you and Yuuta had a good night’s sleep before winking. Yuuta coughs awkwardly while holding your hand, his thumb brushing your palm.
“Okay. We’re all done here! Please leave us a review, and come back again!" She hands your ID card back to you. “Oh yeah! I almost forgot to ask! Was there a curse here last night?”
“Pretty sure there weren’t any last night.” Not that you checked, since you and Yuuta were busy …getting busy. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, a couple of our guests complained that their shower pipe burst last night.” She doesn’t notice you freezing. “They were on the same floor as you so that’s why-”
“Nope. Probably just some maintenance issues with plumbing. Okay, bye!” You cut her off before rushing out of the hotel, dragging Yuuta along with you. You glare at him when you hear him chuckling. “Don’t you laugh! How can I say that it’s because you made me lose control!”
“Darling, you were asking me to-”
“Oh, shut up!” You aren’t sure you like how the situation is reversed now, with how your boyfriend is making you blush with every word.
He kisses your cheek as an apology. “I’m sorry, ___. It won’t happen again. I promise.”
Yuuta breaks his promise the next week when you lose control of your technique and accidentally flood the boys’ dorms’ bathrooms, which is how everyone finds out that you and Yuuta are finally together.
Yuta is sick of you getting injured, so he decides to take matters into his own hands…
Yuta, fucking you with the intent of getting you pregnant so you have to stop being a sorcerer for a long while. All because he can’t stand to see you keep getting injured because of your strenuous curse technique.
Yuta who has you nearly bent in half, hands gripping the back of your knees with such ferocity that you’re sure there will be nail indents left behind.
Yuta who has your knees nearly touching your chest, his full body weight on top of you as his hips piston in and out of your sopping cunt.
Yuta who is babbling nearly incoherently about how this will keep you safe, that you’ll be such a good mommy, that you’ll never have to worry about getting injured ever again.
Yuta, who only whimpers in return when you babble the same sort of nonsense, begging him to make you a mommy.
Yuta, who’s coming inside of you in record time, not daring to pull out after and not even thinking about setting your legs down. Mumbling about how he needs to make sure all of it stays inside.
Warnings: semi-public sex, hotel sex, sex with someone else sleeping in the room, titty worship, raw sex, creampies, squirting
A/N: Baby boy is backkkkkk _:(´ཀ`」 ∠): since I feel like I’ve forgotten how to write smut… here is a smut imagine :D
Word count: 1.7k
“Y-yuta~”
Your back is arching into him, hand slapping over your mouth to try and suppress your whimpers. Your boyfriend isn’t listening to your quiet pleas, his head under your shirt, his lips wrapped around one of your nipples.
His only response is stopping his sucking to bite instead, earning a sharp cry from your lips that you quickly try and smother. Beside you, the bed is rustling as Inumaki tosses and turns in his sleep.
Not even a vacation with long time friends in a shared hotel room with two beds would stop Yuta from having his way with you. So long as you kept quiet…
“Yuta please…” you begging him, tone soft but labored as his hand tightened its grip on your side. Still, he didn’t respond, mouth far too preoccupied to speak.
You could only imagine the mess he was making, littering your skin in bruises and saliva to make you his. He’s always adored your breasts, both in the sexual and non-sexual sense. Sometimes he just needed to hold them, other times he needed to fuck them.
You never complained, not when he worshiped you the way he did… the way he was right now.
You could feel your eyes threatening to roll back, his tongue flicking at the sensitive bud as his thigh pressed further to your covered cunt. You were soaked, Yuta could feel the dampness through your night shorts as they pressed into his bare thigh.
Yuta left your breast alone, kissing the bruises he left before turning his head to the one he had been neglecting. It sent a whole new wave of pleasure through you, hand pressing to your mouth tighter as you couldn’t contain your whine.
He nipped at your skin, just hard enough to leave teeth indents that would turn into pretty bruises.
Your hips jerked as he bite down on your nipple, pain and pleasure making you clench around nothing. Your cunt dragged along his thigh, too many layers separating you to gain any real satisfaction from the friction.
“A-at least fuck me, Yuta.” You begged him, hand slotting back over your mouth as he sucked your neglected nipple. Still, you were left with no response, nothing but his hips jerking against your abdomen told you that he had heard your quiet plea.
You felt him, hard and heavy resting on your abdomen, straining in his briefs. If it weren’t for the sheer amount of body heat from being under the covers, you’d have been able to to feel the wet patch forming on the front of him.
Yuta indulged himself further, practically moaning as his hips rolled against you. “N-not fair.” You breathed, one of your hands coming down to rest on top of his head, not able to reach his hair since he was protected by your shirt. “So hot… Yuta I’m hot…”
You knew it was useless, he wasn’t going to stop anything he was doing until he was good and ready.
You could feel it though, your skin was starting to turn slick with sweat. So was Yuta’s, but that didn’t seem to phase him at all. Not when he was lathering your breast with his tongue and whining as he rut his hips against your abdomen.
So needy yet so controlling.
It was a dizzying mix, being completely at his mercy.
Your hips rolled against his thigh, trying to create some sort of relief since he was purposely ignoring you. Three rolls of your hips and Yuta’s grip was tightened, stopping you from moving all together as he released your nipple with a soft pop.
“So fucking needy.”
He practically seethed, pulling his head out from under your shirt to glare at you. “M-me?” You whisper yelled, face warm from anger and need. “Yes you.” Yuta shot back, the anger on his face didn’t concern you.
Not when you could feel his cock twitching.
“We’re both needy, you’re just mean, Yuta.” Your lip wobbled, head turning to look at the other hotel bed. Inumaki had seemed to settle into a deep sleep, back facing the two of you.
“Eyes on me.”
You shivered involuntarily, head turning back to face Yuta in record time. “If I fuck you, you need to keep quiet.” You nodded eagerly, but Yuta wasn’t satisfied.
“Promise me you’ll stay quiet.” You felt your breathing stop, taking a moment to start again as you quietly whispered “I promise.” Yuta still seemed skeptical.
“I still don’t believe you.” He mumbled as he began pulling down his briefs, just enough for his cock to spring free. “Yuta I mean it.” You whined, hands rushing to yank your sleep shorts and panties off for him.
“You’re never quiet, pretty girl.” Warmth flooded you, causing you to suck your lip between your teeth as your hips raised. Yuta helped you despite scolding you, tossing the two clothing items off to the side.
“If you can’t stay quiet, I’ll stop.”
You nodded, taking your vow to silence literally as his fist wrapped around his cock. Your legs spread further to accommodate him, cunt throbbing with the desire for him to be inside of you.
“Tell me you understand, pretty girl.”
He froze just as he positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you further by prolonging what you needed. “I understand, Yuta.” And he pressed in, watching your mouth fall open as your chest rose and froze.
You were good, holding in the moan that was threatening to burst your lungs as he sunk deep. Your cunt had no resistance, swallowing his cock whole as he bottomed out inside of your tight heat. “Good girl.” He groaned.
Your hands found their way to his biceps, nails digging into his muscles as your legs locked around his hips. You managed to exhale the breath you had been holding, barely making a noise louder than a pant.
Yuta wasted no time, hips drawing back and snapping forward. Your head fell back against the pillow, mouth open as a quiet gasp left you. He was focused, head dipping down to watch where he appeared and disappeared inside of you.
Never mind being mindful of the noises you were making, Yuta had to be mindful of the noises your bodies made. Anything louder than the squelching and bed creaking and he was certain Inumaki would be waking up.
But it was hard to be rational when your cunt was suctioning to him, velvety walls begging to milk him for all he was worth. He’d give it to you, no questions asked.
Every drag of his cock had you arching, scratching at his biceps as sweat dripped down your brow. You couldn’t think straight, breath catching in your lungs every few thrusts as you tried to ignore the urge to scream his name. “K-kiss me.” You managed to choke out.
It certainly wasn’t a whisper, the rustling in the bed over confirmed that. Yuta dropped lower, practically draping his body over you, hips rolling slowly rather than thrusting as he slotted his lips over yours.
Still, he was listening, silently praying Inumaki wouldn’t wake up because dammit he was certain he wouldn’t be able to stop fucking you even if he did.
“Y-Yuta-“ it was muffled, swallowed whole by his tongue slipping past your lips. You gave in, nearly melting into the mattress from his weight settling on you, the close proximity causing his pubic bone to brush your clit.
You felt it then, molten hot arousal pooling in your gut as he offered to the slightest bit of relief.
Yuta pulled away, saliva keeping your lips connected. “You have to be quiet, pretty girl. He almost woke up.” You nodded, eyes so bleary and lips so swollen that he couldn’t bring himself to really scold you.
Yuta found his pace again, hips smacking into yours and creating a soft slap that was just barely muffled by the hotel comforter. He was struggling to contain his own noises as your cunt clenched around him, one of your hands falling away from his bicep to sneak between you.
“Rub your clit for me, pretty girl. Make yourself cum on my cock.” It was a whisper but it seemed to echo off the walls of your skull, rendering you completely speechless.
You did as he asked, hand slipped down to feel your soaked cunt, rubbing your clit in face circles as Yuta’s cock stroked your sweet spot. “Make yourself cum on my cock, please. You know how much I love that.”
You nodded, mouth hanging open as breathless pants slipped past. They were quiet enough to not wake Inumaki but if anyone were to enter the room, it would be painfully obvious what was happening.
Yuta watched you, eyes torn between watching your tits bounce with each thrust and watching where his cock kept disappearing inside of you. It was utterly entrancing, making him gasp as his cock twitched violently within your walls.
“I’m gonna cum, pretty girl. Cum with me please.”
His voice cracked, face sweaty and flushed as he begged you so sweetly. It sent electricity straight down your spine, clit throbbing as your orgasm built. The thrusts got harder, a little sloppier… and louder.
Not that Yuta could care in that moment, he seemed to forget everything he had been drilling in your head as he moaned your name. You whined, eyes widening at the volume of his voice as your walls clenched again.
You were close, fueled by the feeling of his cock twitching deep inside of you. “Cum with me, please.”
Breathless, you nodded, head falling back as you brought yourself over the edge just as Yuta did. His hips stuttering before burying deep, pushing against your cervix as he spilled his load in you.
You had barely registered the warm gush that flooded between your thighs, not until Yuta collapsed on top of you. “Fuck.” You offered weakly, feeling the dampness on the sheets below accompanied by your sweaty skin.
“We made a mess.” Yuta’s tone was sheepish, vibrating your neck as he spoke into it. “It definitely reeks of sex in here too…” you felt your face burning, realizing there wasn’t any windows open to allow ventilation.
“He’ll figure it out regardless.” Yuta sounded defeated but you could feel a smile on his face. “I’ll take the blame… since I’m the one who can’t resist your breasts.”
mhm.. yes and what not.. yes yes thank u for feeding me kalea hcs but... can we get floryn hcs wlw next... yes yes and make it doomed and sad pls.. yes..maybe part of it doomed and part of it happy..thank u master
floryn x f!reader doomed hcs
writer's note: thank you for this req!! normal floryn hcs are already fun to think about, but ohoo making it doomed??? angst??? yummy!! also thank you for calling me master, that has stroked my ego quite a bit.
masterlist introduction
This requires some knowledge of Floryn's lore btw!
Short summary in case you're not familiar: Floryn was a girl born when Belerick accidentally poured too much power into a flower. For a while she was isolated in the Oasis so that she could live her life carefree and away from the harsh environment from the desert. Eventually some events occurred which led her outside the Oasis. Seeing all the suffering and despair of the drought, she resolved herself to help the desert recover.
Also, Floryn and reader is already in an established relationship.
Floryn never means to neglect you. In fact, she spends most of her journeys thinking about you. Every village she restores, every patch of green she coaxes from the barren earth, every child she helps and every flower she discovers becomes another story she can't wait to share with you when she returns. And when she leaves, it's always with the same promise:
"just one more trip! there's a settlement to the south-"
"it's just one more village, i recently heard from a group of merchants that their farm caught fire and-"
"there's just one more place that needs help, I promised that I would return to heal them-"
Then she would come back and spend more time with you. And Floryn means it, every single time.
In the beginning, this arrangement works. Floryn returns often enough that neither of you notice the years slipping by. She comes home with dirt on her boots and excitement in her eyes, eagerly taking your hand and launching into the tales of her travels before she's even sat down. She shows you the sketches of villages before and after her work, tells you about the people she's met, and presses new species of dried flowers into your hands. Seeing her so happy makes it impossible to resent her for leaving again. You love her, but more than that you love seeing her fulfill the purpose she was born for.
The problem is that Floryn does not experience time the same way you do. Born from a flower and the magic of Belerick, it would not be a stretch to say that she is essentially immortal. A year feels short. Five years can pass by in a blink of an eye. Everytime she returns, she looks almost exactly the same as she did before she left. And she never seems to realize how different your experience has been, because every sign of your aging was healed away without a second thought.
Then one day she returns from a journey that felt especially short. Perhaps she had spent only a year away restoring a drought-stricken region, bringing rain to villages that had not seen water in decades. Floryn arrives practically glowing with excitement, already rehearsing all the stories she wants to tell you. She is eager to show you how much progress she has made, how much of the desert is blooming because of her efforts.
But then, she sees you.
You, who's hair is now entirely silver. You, with lines adorning your face. You are not frail or dying, but you are undeniably older than the girl Floryn had once left behind all those years ago. The differences are no longer subtle, impossible to explain away. While she spent years believing that she always had more time, your life continued moving forward without pause.
And perhaps, what makes it even worse is that you are not angry. You greet Floryn with the same warmth you always have. You ask about her travels, the people she's helped, the villages she's saved. There is no resentment in your eyes. If anything, you seem proud of everything she's accomplished. And that kindness just makes the guilt worse, because at the very least, if you hated her for leaving, perhaps she could've convinced herself that she deserved the pain.
But instead, you cradle her teary face in your wrinkled hands, and you tell her that everything is okay. That you understand, that you would never blame her.
After that, Floryn becomes desperate. She starts searching for solutions, asking anyone she meets, even traveling to the Celestial Palace to consult Lunox about extending lifespans or reversing the effects of age. She chases rumors of forgotten magic and ancient relics, for hints of how previously mortal beings turn immortal. There had to be a solution. There simply had to be. Floryn would not accept any other outcome.
Floryn had to accept there was another outcome.
For perhaps the first time in her existence, Floryn encounters something she cannot heal. Time is not an illness. Time is not a wound. There is nothing wrong with you. Your life was simply moving forward exactly as it should. No amount of rain can make a flower return to its seed. And no amount of her magic can restore years that have already been lived.
end note: there was genuinely so much more i wanted to add, her angst potential is so big esp because she's a compassionate character. like we could've gone, reader was like the young man who stole her seed out of desperation, then we could've had this big scene where floryn was like "i know why you did it, but i still can't forgive you". OR we could've gone for the savior angle, where reader keeps getting hurt because floryn cannot stop helping people (kinda like what happened here, except i didn't emphasize the angst of her not being with reader and focused more on the mortal/immortal aspect). we also could've gone for a scenario where floryn is forced to choose between the desert and reader, and lowk i feel like floryn would choose the desert aha....
mhm.. yes and what not.. yes yes thank u for feeding me kalea hcs but... can we get floryn hcs wlw next... yes yes and make it doomed and sad pls.. yes..maybe part of it doomed and part of it happy..thank u master
floryn x f!reader doomed hcs
writer's note: thank you for this req!! normal floryn hcs are already fun to think about, but ohoo making it doomed??? angst??? yummy!! also thank you for calling me master, that has stroked my ego quite a bit.
masterlist introduction
This requires some knowledge of Floryn's lore btw!
Short summary in case you're not familiar: Floryn was a girl born when Belerick accidentally poured too much power into a flower. For a while she was isolated in the Oasis so that she could live her life carefree and away from the harsh environment from the desert. Eventually some events occurred which led her outside the Oasis. Seeing all the suffering and despair of the drought, she resolved herself to help the desert recover.
Also, Floryn and reader is already in an established relationship.
Floryn never means to neglect you. In fact, she spends most of her journeys thinking about you. Every village she restores, every patch of green she coaxes from the barren earth, every child she helps and every flower she discovers becomes another story she can't wait to share with you when she returns. And when she leaves, it's always with the same promise:
"just one more trip! there's a settlement to the south-"
"it's just one more village, i recently heard from a group of merchants that their farm caught fire and-"
"there's just one more place that needs help, I promised that I would return to heal them-"
Then she would come back and spend more time with you. And Floryn means it, every single time.
In the beginning, this arrangement works. Floryn returns often enough that neither of you notice the years slipping by. She comes home with dirt on her boots and excitement in her eyes, eagerly taking your hand and launching into the tales of her travels before she's even sat down. She shows you the sketches of villages before and after her work, tells you about the people she's met, and presses new species of dried flowers into your hands. Seeing her so happy makes it impossible to resent her for leaving again. You love her, but more than that you love seeing her fulfill the purpose she was born for.
The problem is that Floryn does not experience time the same way you do. Born from a flower and the magic of Belerick, it would not be a stretch to say that she is essentially immortal. A year feels short. Five years can pass by in a blink of an eye. Everytime she returns, she looks almost exactly the same as she did before she left. And she never seems to realize how different your experience has been, because every sign of your aging was healed away without a second thought.
Then one day she returns from a journey that felt especially short. Perhaps she had spent only a year away restoring a drought-stricken region, bringing rain to villages that had not seen water in decades. Floryn arrives practically glowing with excitement, already rehearsing all the stories she wants to tell you. She is eager to show you how much progress she has made, how much of the desert is blooming because of her efforts.
But then, she sees you.
You, who's hair is now entirely silver. You, with lines adorning your face. You are not frail or dying, but you are undeniably older than the girl Floryn had once left behind all those years ago. The differences are no longer subtle, impossible to explain away. While she spent years believing that she always had more time, your life continued moving forward without pause.
And perhaps, what makes it even worse is that you are not angry. You greet Floryn with the same warmth you always have. You ask about her travels, the people she's helped, the villages she's saved. There is no resentment in your eyes. If anything, you seem proud of everything she's accomplished. And that kindness just makes the guilt worse, because at the very least, if you hated her for leaving, perhaps she could've convinced herself that she deserved the pain.
But instead, you cradle her teary face in your wrinkled hands, and you tell her that everything is okay. That you understand, that you would never blame her.
After that, Floryn becomes desperate. She starts searching for solutions, asking anyone she meets, even traveling to the Celestial Palace to consult Lunox about extending lifespans or reversing the effects of age. She chases rumors of forgotten magic and ancient relics, for hints of how previously mortal beings turn immortal. There had to be a solution. There simply had to be. Floryn would not accept any other outcome.
Floryn had to accept there was another outcome.
For perhaps the first time in her existence, Floryn encounters something she cannot heal. Time is not an illness. Time is not a wound. There is nothing wrong with you. Your life was simply moving forward exactly as it should. No amount of rain can make a flower return to its seed. And no amount of her magic can restore years that have already been lived.
end note: there was genuinely so much more i wanted to add, her angst potential is so big esp because she's a compassionate character. like we could've gone, reader was like the young man who stole her seed out of desperation, then we could've had this big scene where floryn was like "i know why you did it, but i still can't forgive you". OR we could've gone for the savior angle, where reader keeps getting hurt because floryn cannot stop helping people (kinda like what happened here, except i didn't emphasize the angst of her not being with reader and focused more on the mortal/immortal aspect). we also could've gone for a scenario where floryn is forced to choose between the desert and reader, and lowk i feel like floryn would choose the desert aha....
note: there is a surprisingly small amount of explicit qifrey headcanons out there and i’m determined to fix that — apologies in advance if anything i’ve listed is contradictory or doesn’t line up with the story, i’m only a little bit into the manga as of writing this
Part 2 is here! >> Qifrey NSFW Headcanons (pt. 2)
Olruggio version >> Olruggio NSFW Alphabet
Easthies version >> Easthies NSFW Alphabet
18+ mdni !!
- - - - - - - - - - -
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
he does NOT play about aftercare, he's pretty regimented and thoughtful so the aftercare would be planned well before foreplay even begins — soap and towel on the bathroom counter ready for a bubble bath, favorite food/snacks/drinks prepped and on standby, clean blankets to replace the ones he’s sure to ruin
he secretly likes to be pampered every now and then too but doesn’t expect it, although whoever he loves enough to take to bed would likely pick up on that and make sure he is treated to it
with no exception, his partner will be sleeping in his arms or vice versa the rest of the night
B = Body part (their favorite body part of their partner’s)
eyes (in a perverted way) and mouth/neck (less perverted way)
VERY into eye contact (ironic, i know) likes seeing that twinkle in his partner’s eye when he first sinks into them or they sink into him, likes watching them get teary-eyed from the pleasure, and likes watching their eyes roll back when they are close
does like to stick his fingers in his partner’s mouth now and again ngl, but mainly loves the mouth and neck for kissing; delicate, rough, needy, teasing — the options are endless and they all produce different results, he loves to experiment to see what gets under their skin, what makes them tick
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
has a fascination with it tbh, he views it as soul binding in a way, so if he trusts someone enough to fuck them, he's coming inside (with permission of course) or vice versa as a way to seal the connection — definitely some possessive undertones there that he would never admit to
he especially loves just watching his partner come, its raw and visceral in a way he doesn’t typically allow himself to indulge
prefers not to come on his partner’s face unless requested but does enjoy when his partner comes on his LOL idk when he does it to his partner it feels blasphemous but when they do it to him its just hot
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
has thought about the potential use of forbidden magic in the bedroom for pleasure — purely theoretical, never put into practice
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
has had very few partners, but there was plenty of intimacy with each that has brought him a decent amount of experience, but admittedly not as much as most people
he is observant and patient though, so give him a little time and he will figure anything out
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
lotus or spooning
also appreciates missionary, can’t go wrong with the classics
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
his lighthearted demeanor is still there but his focus can make him come off more intense, he appreciates the human nature of sex and doesn't let his partner get embarrassed when things dont exactly go according to plan
he’d smooth over mishaps with kisses, like if his partner slipped or knocked their ankle on the bedside table he’d press a kiss to it as he continues, very sweet and attentive
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
well groomed but not hairless unless preferred by his partner
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
perfect mix of psychological and physical, he knows that appealing to someone’s fantasies is the quickest way to succeed in the bedroom
romantic in the way that he is a very devoted and sincere lover, filthy in the way that he gets completely overtaken during sex, his usual composure becomes something still controlled but more depraved and daring
also big on holding hands during sex, he doesn’t care how cliché it is
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
does not have time to do it as much as he should, ends up pent up more often than not
if he has a keepsake from his partner, he will sometimes jack off while holding it in his other hand, ex. a pendant, a cap ornament, a piece of clothing (bonus points if it smells like them)
and he will feel guilty about it every time
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
already kind of dropped a few but here’s some more: bondage, kneeling, begging, praise, worship, aphrodisiacs, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, temperature play/wax play, sub/dom dynamic
he’s definitely a switch but prefers being dominant because its an easier headspace for him to be in — specifically soft dom/pleasure dom or a mix of both depending on the day
every now and then can enjoy some mild verbal degradation but only at his expense, never his partner’s
heavily into foreplay, wants to make sure he’s fully there with his partner in mind, body, and soul, nothing less
also has some very mild sadistic/masochistic tendencies that he refuses to examine too closely
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
prefers doing it at home using a soundproofing spell, other than that as long as its somewhere private that provides him the space and time he needs to get him and his partner off he’s open to it
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
when his partner moans his name, having his hair pulled/tugged on, love bites, starting foreplay over clothes, undressing each other
really enjoys teasing, it makes the inevitable that much more rewarding
a nice perfume/cologne can also get his blood pumping
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
anything dangerous or too irresponsible is probably a no-go
very much needs explicit consent, anything less is a no to him
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
likes giving oral more than receiving but is not opposed
very good but agonizingly slow, he draws it out on purpose just to see his partner squirm and beg
occasionally likes to make them come from his mouth alone first, likes to get them all worked up again for a second or sometimes third orgasm before he’s even had his first, his patience knows no bounds
although he’s skilled with his mouth, he’s even better with his hands — long, dexterous fingers in tandem with his sharp observation and adaptability make him an expert at building his partner up and breaking them apart
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
kind of toxic of him but depends on his stress/mood
the more stressed he is the rougher he gets (with consent ofc), rough pounding and harsh grip but usually paired with lots of kisses and sweet nothings/praise, ex. “you are doing so well/you take me so well” and “you are so beautiful” or just “i love you”
when’s he’s less stressed, he’s more composed and measured, taking his time, sensual and loving but pacing himself until him and his partner are on the verge of insanity, when like this his words can be more teasing/toying, playfully frustrating, lots of “what was that? i couldn’t quite make that out?” and “you must ask politely” or “beg for me”
he’s funny like that
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
not opposed, but he usually finds that its more difficult to be spontaneous than it is to simply plan in advance
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
risk in the sense of experimentation — absolutely
risk in the sense of actual danger to ones health or livelihood/something irreversible — probably not
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
high physical stamina and even higher mental stamina
confirmed sleeper build so he can go multiple rounds no sweat if him and his partner so desire and has a mental fortitude that is nearly unbreakable unless he wants it to be
despite that, he can sometimes come quicker than expected if he hasn’t seen his partner in a while — but that does not slow him down, if anything it spurs him on further
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves)
oh yeah, it practically comes with the territory of being a witch considering all the useful gadgets and tools they create
assuming magic sex toys aren’t forbidden, he might even have a small journal dedicated to the spells used on different toys he comes up with and what type of stimulation they produce, notes which ones his partner seems to enjoy, etc.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
LOVES to tease his partner, almost unfairly so
he knows exactly what words to say to get his partner hot and bothered, how to say them, and what small touch to accompany it for maximum effect
he likes being teased too but he’s not very easy to crack (and is secretly prideful of that fact)
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
oh he wants to hear every single sound his partner makes, will sometimes stop mid fucking to explicitly say so if he senses them holding back
he also will be vocal but more through words (ex. talking you through it) and low moans, maybe the occasional whimper if he’s really letting himself relax
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
despite his need for privacy, he once had a wet dream in which him and his partner were strolling about the great hall and his partner decided to hide under his robe to pleasure him, when he woke up, he had never been so hard in his life — he sometimes revisits the fantasy when masturbating
on a related note, he really enjoys lazy wake-up sex
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
slightly longer than average, pretty pink tip, i’ll let you imagine the rest
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
higher than one might expect, but definitely a quality over quantity type of person in the bedroom
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
an avid enjoyer of pillow talk but once the conversation settles he tends to get wrapped up in his thoughts, not always in a negative way, he’s just a naturally contemplative person
usually likes to watch his partner fall asleep first, it brings him a sense of peace that makes it easier to drift off himself
note: there is a surprisingly small amount of explicit qifrey headcanons out there and i’m determined to fix that — apologies in advance if anything i’ve listed is contradictory or doesn’t line up with the story, i’m only a little bit into the manga as of writing this
Part 2 is here! >> Qifrey NSFW Headcanons (pt. 2)
Olruggio version >> Olruggio NSFW Alphabet
Easthies version >> Easthies NSFW Alphabet
18+ mdni !!
- - - - - - - - - - -
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
he does NOT play about aftercare, he's pretty regimented and thoughtful so the aftercare would be planned well before foreplay even begins — soap and towel on the bathroom counter ready for a bubble bath, favorite food/snacks/drinks prepped and on standby, clean blankets to replace the ones he’s sure to ruin
he secretly likes to be pampered every now and then too but doesn’t expect it, although whoever he loves enough to take to bed would likely pick up on that and make sure he is treated to it
with no exception, his partner will be sleeping in his arms or vice versa the rest of the night
B = Body part (their favorite body part of their partner’s)
eyes (in a perverted way) and mouth/neck (less perverted way)
VERY into eye contact (ironic, i know) likes seeing that twinkle in his partner’s eye when he first sinks into them or they sink into him, likes watching them get teary-eyed from the pleasure, and likes watching their eyes roll back when they are close
does like to stick his fingers in his partner’s mouth now and again ngl, but mainly loves the mouth and neck for kissing; delicate, rough, needy, teasing — the options are endless and they all produce different results, he loves to experiment to see what gets under their skin, what makes them tick
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
has a fascination with it tbh, he views it as soul binding in a way, so if he trusts someone enough to fuck them, he's coming inside (with permission of course) or vice versa as a way to seal the connection — definitely some possessive undertones there that he would never admit to
he especially loves just watching his partner come, its raw and visceral in a way he doesn’t typically allow himself to indulge
prefers not to come on his partner’s face unless requested but does enjoy when his partner comes on his LOL idk when he does it to his partner it feels blasphemous but when they do it to him its just hot
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
has thought about the potential use of forbidden magic in the bedroom for pleasure — purely theoretical, never put into practice
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
has had very few partners, but there was plenty of intimacy with each that has brought him a decent amount of experience, but admittedly not as much as most people
he is observant and patient though, so give him a little time and he will figure anything out
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
lotus or spooning
also appreciates missionary, can’t go wrong with the classics
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
his lighthearted demeanor is still there but his focus can make him come off more intense, he appreciates the human nature of sex and doesn't let his partner get embarrassed when things dont exactly go according to plan
he’d smooth over mishaps with kisses, like if his partner slipped or knocked their ankle on the bedside table he’d press a kiss to it as he continues, very sweet and attentive
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
well groomed but not hairless unless preferred by his partner
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
perfect mix of psychological and physical, he knows that appealing to someone’s fantasies is the quickest way to succeed in the bedroom
romantic in the way that he is a very devoted and sincere lover, filthy in the way that he gets completely overtaken during sex, his usual composure becomes something still controlled but more depraved and daring
also big on holding hands during sex, he doesn’t care how cliché it is
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
does not have time to do it as much as he should, ends up pent up more often than not
if he has a keepsake from his partner, he will sometimes jack off while holding it in his other hand, ex. a pendant, a cap ornament, a piece of clothing (bonus points if it smells like them)
and he will feel guilty about it every time
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
already kind of dropped a few but here’s some more: bondage, kneeling, begging, praise, worship, aphrodisiacs, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, temperature play/wax play, sub/dom dynamic
he’s definitely a switch but prefers being dominant because its an easier headspace for him to be in — specifically soft dom/pleasure dom or a mix of both depending on the day
every now and then can enjoy some mild verbal degradation but only at his expense, never his partner’s
heavily into foreplay, wants to make sure he’s fully there with his partner in mind, body, and soul, nothing less
also has some very mild sadistic/masochistic tendencies that he refuses to examine too closely
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
prefers doing it at home using a soundproofing spell, other than that as long as its somewhere private that provides him the space and time he needs to get him and his partner off he’s open to it
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
when his partner moans his name, having his hair pulled/tugged on, love bites, starting foreplay over clothes, undressing each other
really enjoys teasing, it makes the inevitable that much more rewarding
a nice perfume/cologne can also get his blood pumping
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
anything dangerous or too irresponsible is probably a no-go
very much needs explicit consent, anything less is a no to him
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
likes giving oral more than receiving but is not opposed
very good but agonizingly slow, he draws it out on purpose just to see his partner squirm and beg
occasionally likes to make them come from his mouth alone first, likes to get them all worked up again for a second or sometimes third orgasm before he’s even had his first, his patience knows no bounds
although he’s skilled with his mouth, he’s even better with his hands — long, dexterous fingers in tandem with his sharp observation and adaptability make him an expert at building his partner up and breaking them apart
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
kind of toxic of him but depends on his stress/mood
the more stressed he is the rougher he gets (with consent ofc), rough pounding and harsh grip but usually paired with lots of kisses and sweet nothings/praise, ex. “you are doing so well/you take me so well” and “you are so beautiful” or just “i love you”
when’s he’s less stressed, he’s more composed and measured, taking his time, sensual and loving but pacing himself until him and his partner are on the verge of insanity, when like this his words can be more teasing/toying, playfully frustrating, lots of “what was that? i couldn’t quite make that out?” and “you must ask politely” or “beg for me”
he’s funny like that
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
not opposed, but he usually finds that its more difficult to be spontaneous than it is to simply plan in advance
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
risk in the sense of experimentation — absolutely
risk in the sense of actual danger to ones health or livelihood/something irreversible — probably not
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
high physical stamina and even higher mental stamina
confirmed sleeper build so he can go multiple rounds no sweat if him and his partner so desire and has a mental fortitude that is nearly unbreakable unless he wants it to be
despite that, he can sometimes come quicker than expected if he hasn’t seen his partner in a while — but that does not slow him down, if anything it spurs him on further
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves)
oh yeah, it practically comes with the territory of being a witch considering all the useful gadgets and tools they create
assuming magic sex toys aren’t forbidden, he might even have a small journal dedicated to the spells used on different toys he comes up with and what type of stimulation they produce, notes which ones his partner seems to enjoy, etc.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
LOVES to tease his partner, almost unfairly so
he knows exactly what words to say to get his partner hot and bothered, how to say them, and what small touch to accompany it for maximum effect
he likes being teased too but he’s not very easy to crack (and is secretly prideful of that fact)
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
oh he wants to hear every single sound his partner makes, will sometimes stop mid fucking to explicitly say so if he senses them holding back
he also will be vocal but more through words (ex. talking you through it) and low moans, maybe the occasional whimper if he’s really letting himself relax
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
despite his need for privacy, he once had a wet dream in which him and his partner were strolling about the great hall and his partner decided to hide under his robe to pleasure him, when he woke up, he had never been so hard in his life — he sometimes revisits the fantasy when masturbating
on a related note, he really enjoys lazy wake-up sex
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
slightly longer than average, pretty pink tip, i’ll let you imagine the rest
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
higher than one might expect, but definitely a quality over quantity type of person in the bedroom
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
an avid enjoyer of pillow talk but once the conversation settles he tends to get wrapped up in his thoughts, not always in a negative way, he’s just a naturally contemplative person
usually likes to watch his partner fall asleep first, it brings him a sense of peace that makes it easier to drift off himself
thinking about… sexperienced bf!qifrey who takes your shy confession that no one’s ever made you cum very seriously. who, fortunately for you, upon receiving the knowledge, made it his personal goal to give you as many orgasms as it took to make up for your prior lack thereof.
who, unfortunately for you, wanted to do it all in one night.
well, truthfully, he hadn’t decided on that last bit until he made you cum the first time, body sprawled and vibrating beneath his, pretty lashes fluttering over hazy eyes and flushed cheeks and, best of all—the softest cunt he’s ever felt suckling his fingers with a gummy sweetness.
you’re drooling slick into his mattress, so thoroughly soaked and gooey and hot in the aftermath of your orgasm. and when you can finally focus on him, you look so surprised, almost shocked—like you truly didn’t expect him to make you cum.
and the realization hits—holy fuck, you really did come from just his fingers.
given that knowledge, you can’t really fault him for the rush of pride he feels, can you? and surely you can forgive the cocky smirk that graces his lips as he slips his fingers out, hissing sharply at the way the firelight glints off the string of your slick that connects his fingers to your pulsing cunt.
“so pretty.” he finds himself murmuring, eyes glued to your puffy, soaked lips. dick tented in his pants and leaky, howling to be buried inside your pliant, cum-drenched pussy. to fuck it open and feel it convulse as he fucks you so good.
“qiiiii’—” you whine softly and wriggle your hips back against him, ass bumping against his crotch and pulling a jerk from his own hips. “are you gonna fuck me now or just keep staring?”
he blinks, effectively caught off guard—but then your words sink in, and he can’t help but groan softly and palm at his cock to relieve the massive amounts of pressure you’d just induced. and as much as he wanted to simply ravage you, he needed you to be sure—because he wouldn’t hold back.
“think you can handle it, doll?” qifrey murmurs, searching your face. “‘cuz i won’t stop ‘til ye’ve come at least five more times. we’ve got to make up for lost experience, yes?”
you may have lost your ability to think, walk, or even breathe properly for the next few days—but it was aaaallll worth it.
synopsis . Trying to coax your usually gentle partner into fucking your throat whilst giving him head. content . afab!reader, somewhat established relationship, oral sex (m!receiving), dirty talk, face fucking, pet names, brat taming, praise, sadism, etc.
author's note: i need him so bad like pls. anywho, answering this request (kinda lol). banner from: “Kubitsuri Danshi to Nikushoku Joshi”
“Y-Yes, down your throat now. Oh my-, just like that. Perrrfect.” Qifrey couldn’t help the words that floated out of his mouth, a hand grasping at the top of your head tightly enough to reveal veins against his skin.
He tried not to buck his hips too much almost every time you sucked him off but it was difficult not to when your head was bobbing so vigorously, letting his twitchy tip kiss ‘n cling to the very back of your throat. He told you he had a stressful day, so all you wanted to do was relieve some of that stress for him—even though he typically advises against doing so adamantly.
You’ve no idea why he’s so keen on remaining stressed and pent up. Nor do you understand how the man goes on and on about how much he hates water and all things wet, yet he’s throbbing against your flattened tongue the moment you stick it out for him.
His wishes aside, all you longed for was to see that other side of him he tried so hard to keep hidden from those most dear. Though, Qifrey had a way of hiding all intimate parts of his personality from those he treasured most.
With the sole exception of sex, of course. While it did relieve some amounts of stress, it most certainly was too satisfactory of an act for him to indulge in with just anyone.
Which is where you come in—his pretty lil’ partner.
“Can you-, hahhh… p-possibly—fuck—slow down, my love?” Qifrey tried to warn you, his fingers taut atop your head as his the muscles in his thighs tensed and his desire to buck his hips upward increased. And yet, you merely lifted your gaze up to meet with his and then began to bob your head up ‘n down even quicker. “N-No, not faster. I-, hnngh.”
The hold he has on you suddenly steels and your eyes widen as you realize you’re hardly able to move. Qifrey’s mentally apologizing for the way he begins to thrust up into your mouth and push your head down to meet with each one.
“I cannot maintain my composure when you suck on me like that,” He huffs, lashes fluttering whilst his pretty face twists up in pleasure. Then he’s tilting his head to the side and casting a half grin down at you, “Fuuuck, you made me do this, y’know. S-Staring at me like that… god, you look so gorgeous with my cock in your mouth.”
You felt your thighs clamp together tightly in an attempt at soothing the sudden ache his words spurred from your body. You weren’t sure if he realized it or not, but this was all you really wanted from him.
“Yeah? You like that, do you?” Sweat begins to build up against the smooth planes of his skin and he’s nearly irritated by it. So much so that he finally slips up and drops that gentle, kindhearted act of his, “Oh, I bet you do.” Your lips smooch down against his swollen base as he holds you in place—the faint tuffs of a white happy trail tickling your skin. “Tell me then, tell me how much you like having your mouth properly fucked. Come now, let me hear it.”
“Mmmph!” You mumble around him, batting your eyes up rapidly at him.
Qifrey chuckles. He did quite enjoy it when you tested him, and that feeling only doubled down when he saw you like this, “Still putting forth your best efforts even when—nngh… y-your mouth is all full of me. How cute.”
Your partner—never boyfriend, for reasons you’re entirely unsure of—gains that different shaded glimmer in his eyes all of a sudden. You relish in the feel of his dick drooling something pleasantly nasty down your throat and he seems to be delighted by the sight of it. That, and the sexy way in which you squirm in between his legs like you wanted him to be meaner to you or something.
“Slow, my love.” He tried to warn you, tried to apply pressure to your head and steady how quickly you sucked at his cock. “S-Slow down, I’m close.”
His voice was so delicate even as his orgasm approached and you found yourself moaning around his shaft as his tone wavered and pitched in reaction.
Then your hands met his legs and you gripped at him, lifting your gaze back up and swirling your tongue across every reachable vein he had to offer you. He wanted you to slow down again, but just like the last time, you refused to do so and proceeded to suck faster ‘n harder.
Things click for him right then.
“Ah? You want me to… oh.” His cock was throbbing all against the constricting walls of your throat and he knew you felt it. Even so, you still swallowed him in deeper and ignored how gags threatened to interrupt your actions. Qifrey found himself grinning, “You’d like to swallow it, would you?”
Naturally, you nod.
The witch before you was many, many things—but a complete pushover for you was not one of them. If you were going to actively disobey his orders of slowing down just to get what you wanted, then he was going to only allow your desires to come forth on his own terms.
Which is exactly why he holds your head as he pushes himself up to stand. You try to pull back as if you needed to breathe but your mouth is rapidly clogged by the length of his cock pushing forward in one, mean thrust.
His balls smack against your chin and he feels you whining around him as he grunts, “Naughty girl.” Qifrey readjusts his hands to the sides of your pretty face before letting out a soft sigh. Though, his calming exhale was rather opposite to the vicious look in his eyes as he began having his way with your mouth, “I do hope this-, hah… satisfies your fantasies well. Mmgh.”
You somehow gain the bratty nerve to try and wiggle your head away from his steeling grip and he seems to find that most humorous.
Cocking his head to the side and narrowing those rude eyes at you, “Still—keep still,” He groans, rolling his hips forward more thoroughly so that you could feel each inch of his cock twitch around your mouth. To his surprise, you manage to stop your squirming, and for that he smiles and says, “Goooood. Now swallow.” before cumming directly down your tongue.
When he soon pulls out of you, he’s left to watch gallops of saliva and his cum string between his tip and your lips. The sight should’ve been seen as disgusting, given how wet and sloppy it was. And yet he was still hard, still twitching in front of your face even as he panted to catch his breath.
It really was unfair how gorgeous of a partner he’d obtained.
He couldn’t help but want to fuck every drop of his frustrations out into you—especially when you were peering up at him with those glossy eyes of yours, looking as though you wanted to go again and again until he had his fill of you.
You move to wipe at your mouth, “Qifr—“
“Actually,” He’s cutting you off rather sharply, taking his dick into one hand and shuddering from the sensitivity of it before his feet shift his body closer to you. Then his other hand finds the top of your head and he’s glaring at you like you’re nothing more than some toy for him to make use of, “I quite enjoyed that.”
You blink once.
Qifrey had a tendency to focus on your pleasure most days, claiming that doing so is most enjoyable for him too. But you knew there was another side of him he wasn’t showing you quite yet, and apparently this was it.
His fingers disappear into your hair and his palm is nearing the back of your head. You knew he was about to absolutely ravish your throat based on the way he was holding onto you.
“Let’s go again, shall we?” Serves as the only warning from his plush lips. Then you watch him move his hand from his dick and to your jaw, tipping your chin up before he swipes a thumb over your cheek in awe. He hates water but it would be quite the sight to see it falling from your face all because of him, “Preferable until you’re crying… and after that, you’ll keep quiet about this. Understood?”
Qifrey had to make sure your silence was a given these days, seeing as you’d created a small habit of hinting at the intimate nights you experienced with him. And to make those matters worse, he’d found out that you shared these vague details with Olruggio of all people.
Hence why you’re pouting, “Not even—“
The witch cuts you off by nudging the hardened edges of his cock in between your lips all unevenly, letting his shaft gloss over your wiggly tongue and deep down into the back of your trachea—easily causing you to gag.
“You will tell no one about this.” He orders, yanking your head back so that only your lips are left to quiver around his tip, “Not a soul. Now nod if I’m understood.”
Obediently, you do.
Then his cheerful grin returns, despite that darkened look remaining present in his eye. “Good girl.”
a lil piece where nagumo plays a game w u and he doesn’t play fair
you should’ve known not to trust a word that comes out of nagumo yoichi’s mouth.
you both were waiting in the car in front of an office building to meet someone that’ll give nagumo something for his next mission. you didn’t know the details or who he was meeting but he begged if you could tag along. not thinking to question his reasons you effortlessly accepted, only because it seemed like a simple easy trip.
yet little did you know it’d be a fucking pain.
skirt bunched up at your hips, seat leaned back, hands grabbing hold to nagumo for some kind of stability. he was so sleazy, steadily curling his fingers deep inside you, while his free hand rubbed tight circles on your clit.
“cmonnn, take a guess. the game is so simple y/n” he said sounding so annoyingly amused, smiling like this was funny to him.
his “game” being if you could guess the guy who’s suppose to be bringing the info. if you guessed right he’d let you cum, but if you didn’t… you don’t.
“if you don’t guess then you wont win” bringing his fingers coated with you to his mouth, humming at his work. “and I know you reeaalllyy wanna win.”
you didn’t know which was worse, being edged 4 times over or getting stuffed full of your boyfriend’s fingers in the building parking lot where dozens of people constantly walk past your car.
“f-fuc-you nagum-“ barely finishing your sentence as he relentlessly picks of the pace of his fingers. you could feel the stares from outside as you tried to keep your composure, ultimately not paying them no mind.
“the way you’re squeezing around my fingers, makes me think you wanna win huh” his speed not letting up as he coaxes you further. “go on and give me a guess, I’m sure this next one will be the right one”
dazed out of your mind, trying to focus your attention on a person walking out the doors rather than the growing orgasm that was creeping up for the 5th time already.
“shi- fuck i don’t know, — him! is it him? please nagumo let me cu—fuck” you could feel hot tears form in your eyes, a mix of frustration and pleasure sending you closer and closer to the edge.
“aww, you okay? looks like you’re gonna cry” his voice dripping with fake sympathy, while his thumb circles your clit even faster.
“h-ah d-don’t stop, ple—“ clawing at your bfs arm as you feel your orgasm coming up so so closely.
maybe nagumo wasn’t so bad. hoping your desperation tears making him see a different light.— feeling the way you get wetter and wetter with each pump of his fingers, feeling you squeeze his fingers oh so tightly you think you just migh—
“it’s too bad though” his hands retracting from you entirely, admiring his ring and middle finger before popping them into his mouth. “that wasn’t the right answer either, guess you lose.”
