— LOVE ME HOW YOU LIKE ♡
pairing: okkotsu yuuta x idol!f!reader
tags: noncon, stalking, yandere, breaking in, unreliable narrator (mostly yuuta pov), aged up charas (yuuta’s in his 20s), solo male masturbation, squirting, breeding/pregnancy talk/baby trapping, multiple orgasms, overstim, cunnilingus, fingering, yuuji makes a short guest appearance in the intro lol
wc: ~8.6k (... idk how this happened)
summary: Yuuta’s oshi is a horrible enabler.
a/n: happy belated birthday yuuta! atp you can rip underground idol!reader from my cold dead hands. based off of a post i made a while ago. thank you @infinitatis-ink for beta reading :> dividers by @/adornedwithlight
ao3 link here
It’s not Yuuta’s usual scene, but he felt bad when nobody responded to Yuuji’s invitation to spend a night out in Shinjuku. In Yuuta’s defense, he thought they would maybe go to an izakaya or two, get a meal and a few drinks before heading home. However, what Yuuta was unable to predict was Yuuji deciding to go to an idol show on the fly. Yuuji was practically begging him to go, making promises that it’ll be a lot of fun. And when words don’t work, Yuuji grabs Yuuta by the wrist and leads him to the venue despite his protests.
So that’s how Yuuta finds himself in a random basement venue crowded with sweaty guys on a Saturday night. Again, not necessarily his idea of a night out. But Yuuta’s a good sport, so he’ll do his best to enjoy the show anyways.
What starts as a murmur bursts into a boisterous cheer as soon as the stage lights flash on. It’s radiant, nearly blinding. It’s not the lights that sear a black hole into his vision. No, it’s you.
In that fluffy costume that makes you look like a slice of cake personified. The way your skirt bounces exemplifies the pep in your step as you make your way around the stage. Your eyes meet his as you wave into the crowd, and he thinks he’s having a heart attack.
“Good evening everyone! We really hope you enjoy the show we have in store for you tonight!” you speak into the mic, exuding a blissful aura like it's second nature. Yuuta swears he can feel it embrace him, the first warm ray of sunlight you feel after a barren winter.
The crowd roars in response before quieting down. The silence only serves to spur the anticipation drumming throughout his body, his heart beating loudly in his ears, catching in his throat.
The instrumental starts with a sweet chiptune lead, and all hell breaks loose. The rhythmic chants and clapping nearly blow out his ear drums, and he loses Yuuji in the chaos of fans rushing closer to the stage. It’s disorienting, trying to follow along while not losing his sights on you.
He moves along with the crowd, ebbs and flows like the ocean’s waves. No matter how much he’s pushed, he’s focused on you. Once he finds his footing, it gets a bit easier. It lets him focus on other things, like learning your name through the fan chants. It’s a cute one, one he savors on his tongue whenever he yells along with the crowd as you sing.
With every step, every graceful note that spills from your lips, he can only feel himself falling deeper. It’s like you’re a siren, and him, the unfortunate sailor who’s all too willing to walk to his demise. He yells and cheers even louder in his trance, just to see if you’ll grace him with another look.
And you do.
It’s brief but you look right at him again for the second time tonight, with a dazzling smile that puts the sun to shame.
How can he keep your attention? Maybe he should’ve stopped by and bought a lightstick or two before coming in.
Song after song after song, he roots for you with a frenzied energy he didn’t know he had in him. It’s a battle against his parched throat to force the words out and really make sure you can hear him. Every time you look his way, he feels electric. It’s like static, all his hair standing on edge like he’s rubbed a balloon and your gaze is the point of contact that zaps you both.
Before he knows it, the show’s over. It’s far too soon for his liking. Even though it was Yuuji’s idea, Yuuta’s really warmed up to the whole thing–far more enthusiastically than he thought he’d ever be, so much so he’s tallying the number of times you looked his way.
Six. Six times he’s felt that electricity run through him, six times you’ve made him catch his breath and nearly choke on it. Did you feel it too? There’s no way you didn’t. He could see it in the way your eyes sparkled, in the smile that was hand-delivered to him. It’s too many times to be a coincidence.
Yuuta only manages to snap out of his trance when all the lights turn back on and Yuuji slings his arm around him.
“Sorry I lost ya earlier,” Yuuji apologizes, out of breath, presumably from dancing and chanting with the wotas, “how was it?”
“It was,” he pauses for a moment, “fun.”
“See, I told you it’d be fun!” Yuuji beams at the confession. “You wanna get chekis?”
“Chekis?”
“Yeah, like a picture with one of the girls. I already know who I’m choosing tonight!” Yuuji pats Yuuta on the back, a friendly gesture Yuuta returns in kind. “But since you don’t know the members, you can just choose a color. Doesn’t really matter.”
It doesn’t really matter, he said, but it really does. Because if Yuuta chose differently he never would have been able to meet you.
So once he gets to the front of the line, he points at the laminated picture of you.
It shouldn’t be this overwhelming. Idols are normal people too. It’s a lot more obvious with underground idols, in the dingy live venues they book, in the way they stumble over their words on stage or occasionally forget a dance move or lyric. There’s appeal in the imperfect, a diamond in the rough.
But that’s the thing, you still shine bright, blindingly so.
As Yuuta walks up to you, his nerves only get worse. His senses are running on overdrive taking you in, in all your ruffly glory. Something sweet and floral hits his nostrils as he breathes in. He didn’t consider you’d be wearing perfume. It’s the right amount – just enough to whet the palate and bite his tongue in fear of saying something wrong.
He thinks he’s seeing things when he’s barely an arms width away from you, and everything about you seems to sparkle.
You look giddy when he gets up to you, a large smile plastered on your face with open arms as if you’re reuniting with an old friend.
Is he supposed to hug you?
While he hesitates, you’re quick to close the distance, wrapping your arms around his waist. Yuuta carefully does the same to you, doing his best to not implode on the spot. When you let go, he’s flushed in the face and has to think about something else to calm himself down.
“Ah! I haven’t seen you around,” you ask with your hands behind your back and eyes wandering like you’re examining him, “you’re new here, aren’t you?”
“Y-Yeah, you could say that,” he says. The room feels ten degrees hotter.
“What’s your name?”
“Yuuta.”
“Yuuta…” you repeat carefully, as if you’re tasting it on your lips, “Cute name for a cute guy. Is it ok if I call you Yuu-tan?” You look at him with this doe-eyed expression that makes his chest taut.
When you say it like that, with your eyes glimmering under the stage lights, how could he say no? Yuuta’s stumbling over his words, babbling like an idiot before he’s finally able to get out a meek, “sure.”
You seem to like that, your face lighting up with pure glee.
“Alright Yuu-tan, what kind of pose did you have in mind?”
He absolutely did not think this far ahead. He has to tell himself to calm down, breathe in, breathe out, before asking, “what kind of poses do you usually do?”
“Mmm… Hearts are pretty common I’d say.” You gently grab his hand and the softness of your skin triggers alarm bells in his head. He’s in danger. “But since it’s your first time, how about we do something special?”
You say it in a way that has him blushing harder – first times.
“S-special?” he repeats.
Carefully, you wrap your arms around his waist. Softer than when you first grabbed him. Like there’s a gentle affection weaved within your embrace.
Your face is pressed against his chest. It’s enough for his breathing to shorten, to be far too aware of the pressure you place on him.
With an innocent pout you look at him, softly reassuring him, “Just pretend I’m like your girlfriend or something.”
You’re close–too close. And this whole situation is just too much for him. There’s no escape from you–your smell, your warmth, the softness of your skin.
“Do you have a girlfriend, Yuu-tan?” you ask, leaning into him more.
Did he hear you right? Every time you talk it feels like you do so with the express purpose of stealing the air from his lungs. But still, there’s no way that’s what you asked him. Right?
“Huh?”
“I said,” you purr into his ear before repeating your question, “do you have a girlfriend, Yuu-tan?”
So, he did hear you right. Now he’s scrambling again for an answer, blood pumping so hard he can hear it steadily pulsing in his ears.
“N-No.”
“Then you can think of me as yours!” you exclaim, far too easily. It echoes like a clocktower’s bell at noon. If he listens close enough, he swears he can hear the notes of a wedding march.
The only anchor that can bring him back down to Earth is a tug on his shirt, a whisper of your touch against his chest. When his eyes meet yours, he’s starstruck. The glitter around your eyes only serves to make his heart beat faster, how it sparkles and makes you look even sweeter.
“Alright, look at the camera for me, okay?”
So he does. You get in position too, soft lips pressing against his flushed cheek. It happens too quickly for him to react, and with a countdown from three and a flash, the picture’s taken.
You’re quick to sign the polaroid, and Yuuta can barely get a look at what you’re writing before you finish.
“Hold it carefully, ok? The ink can smudge,” you instruct him, gently passing over the picture. “And don’t shake it! The whole shake it like a polaroid thing is a myth.”
He silently takes the picture in his hand, carefully taking it in. You’re able to fit a decent amount on the picture. In the top left corner, “To my beloved Yuu-tan,” and in the bottom right, “Thank you for coming!”
“I hope you’ll come back again,” you say sheepishly, a bit like a girl who just confessed to their crush on the school rooftop.
“O-Of course!” Yuuta’s practically forcing the words out of his words, doing his best not to choke.
“Pinky promise?” You lay out your pinky for him, waiting expectantly. Yuuta, on the other hand, is struggling to recollect himself.
“Mmhm.” He brings his pinky over to yours, and you wrap around each other’s fingers. Yuuta thinks it’s just that until you bring your hand back to kiss your thumb.
“Seal it with a kiss?” you ask with an innocent smile.
“Huh?”
You don’t repeat yourself, simply look at him in a way that makes his cheeks red. After a moment, Yuuta repeats the motion, nearly shaking as he brings both of your hands closer to his lips before kissing his thumb.
By the time he finds the courage to look you in the eyes, he’s sure there’s steam coming out of his ears. His gaze shifts down, but darts back up as soon as he hears you giggle.
“You promised! No take-backsies. I don’t like broken promises.” You pout before breaking back into that picture perfect smile of yours. “Thanks for coming by, Yuu-tan!”
– The post concert dress down is the same as usual. Struggling to get out of polyester costumes clinging to your skin from sweat, doing your best to fold your ruffled layered skirt into a manageable mass and failing the first couple of times. It’s a routine you’ve gotten used to.
What you’re not used to, is receiving a warning from one of your groupmates.
“Hey.” Your group leader stands over you as you attempt to continue packing your costume away. “You've gotta be a bit more careful.”
You look up at her with a raised brow, taking in her disappointed expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” she relents, her tone becoming more annoyed than disappointed.
So this is what you think it’s about. But it really isn’t any of her concern. You haven’t had any problems until now, so what’s the harm in continuing? If anything, she should be grateful. If you were to crunch the numbers, you’re sure you bring in a decent amount of fans by playing up the girlfriend experience schtick. And not just any type of fans – devoted ones. Those that return to night after night to spend a minute of their time with you. Those that would empty out their wallets at a snap of your fingers.
If you were to be honest with yourself, you like the power you hold. There’s a thrill that rushes to your head when your fans are stumbling over their words, stringing along a response for the sole purpose of pleasing you. But there’s no way you’d ever admit that to her. She just wouldn’t get it.
You let out a deep sigh. “It’s fine! This type of crowd is harmless. I’m just trying to do my job, you know.”
“You’re going to attract some crazies if you keep going down this path.”
“Yeah, yeah.” You shrug her off as you finally fit your costume into your luggage, swiftly zipping it close before it has the chance to recoil.
“Hey.” She grasps your shoulder to grab your attention. “Listen, I’m being serious,” she says, and there’s a genuine tinge of concern in her voice.
“Me too. I’m making us money. Good money. And if it means I have to bat my lashes and put on an act, then that’s what it is.”
She sighs, defeated. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
–
In the days after the concert, Yuuta falls into a rabbit hole. It’s just too easy – your group is pretty active on social media, trying and promoting just about anything that’ll stick. It starts simple enough with a livestream here and there. Just listening to you talk makes his heart all warm and fuzzy.
The longer he lurks and follows, the more he realizes just how many opportunities there are to take you in. You being an underground idol works in his favor. Desperation’s the name of the game, with you selling just about anything you can get your likeness on – signed polaroids, acrylic standees, can buttons, the list goes on.
Eventually, he’ll put in orders for those as well, but none of them replace the sensation of holding your hand in person, of your soft lips against his face.
At the end of the day, there’s no way you can’t see his devotion towards you. At this point he knows everything there is to know about you–through the selfies you post online, the memes you retweet, even the daily blog post where you write about your day.
There’s more than that as well. There’s an inherent intimacy he feels in the single shot chekis he orders as soon as the shop link drops on Twitter, in the comments he leaves on your livestreams, with the username you unknowingly gave him.
And in the short weeks he’s been following your account, he’s greeted with a rare chance encounter. A custom video, made by you, just for him. And though the price is probably hefty for what it is, he’s quick to seize the opportunity.
Sure, he’s burning a hole in his wallet. But how can he complain? When he can hear your sweet voice again, talking to him like he’s the only one in the room. It’s the closest thing he can get to seeing you for now. Things have just been so busy these days. He wonders how other sorcerers play the balancing act between dating and work.
But just a couple weeks later he gets an e-mail. He nearly jumps in his seat in his room when he sees the e-mail notification with the subject line “to my beloved yuu-tan~”.
His phone comes alive with you in frame, sitting in something different from your usual stage costume. Something cute, something that sends butterflies to his stomach and a blush to his cheeks. A comfy sweater that seems just a little bit too big for you, along with a matching skirt. The hem dangerously brushes against your upper thighs, and he has to make a considerable effort to draw his gaze back to your eyes.
The background is a simple white backdrop, and judging from the lighting situation, it’s probably something you filmed in your room. You’re filming this. In your room. Just for him. The thought is enough to make his heart race.
“Is this on?” Your finger taps on to the camera, face getting closer to the lens before moving back. Even when you’re clueless, you’re adorable. “Ah, it is.”
“Yuu-tan! Thanks for supporting me so much as you always have!~” Your voice is bright as always. The way your nickname for him dances on your tongue feels like a salve for even the most mortal of wounds.
“Your support is number one in my heart, you know. But Yuu-tan…”You drag out his name in a way that’s too much for him, and the way you pout up at the camera? This has to be attempted murder, he thinks. But he continues listening attentively. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. I miss you, I really do.” Your voice pulls on his heartstrings and makes him ridden with guilt. It genuinely pains him to hear you like this, his chest tightening at the sound. But then your voice lightens up, your expression brightens with the next words that slip past your lips, “you’ll come to the next show, won’t you?”
Yuuta finds himself nodding at his phone, as if you’ll be able to see his response if he’s enthusiastic enough. Yet, it’s as if you knew exactly how he’d reply.
“Alright, I’ll see you there then! This is a promise.” You lift your pinky up to the camera before pulling it back. “Oh wait, I don’t think I can do this through the camera, haha. Guess you’ll just have to finish it in person! Bye bye!” you sign off, and the video ends there, paused on your angelic smile.
Yuuta nearly breaks his phone replaying the video over and over again. It’s surprising the image of you hasn’t been burned onto his screen. But there’s one part in particular that’s his favorite.
It’s when you pout and disarmingly look up at the camera. Bat your eyelashes in just the right way to make him pitch a tent in his pants. That combined with the way you say his name, it’s no surprise the next thing he does is frantically search for the bottle of lube in one of his drawers.
What happens next, there’s no way you can fault him for it. All he can think about is how cute you are as he dispenses lube on to his right hand and unzips his pants with his left. Once his cock’s free, he groans as he palms himself, daydreaming about how you’d hold him. His other hand finds his phone, repeatedly going back to the same timestamp where you’re practically moaning for him.
He finds a rhythm, fast. Not just for jerking off, but looping your voice in a way that makes him light-headed. It just adds another layer to the image of you playing in his head. If he times it just right, he can pretend that slick wet sound of him fucking his hand is your sweet pussy instead. His pace gets faster, thinking about the other kinds of sounds he could wring from you.
You would moan so sweetly for him. He’d do everything in his power to make sure of it. He’s far from a selfish lover. He’d be sure to prep you beforehand, his hands tracing the curve of your body before delving into your underwear. Start a bit slow, teasing you into asking for more as he plays with your clit. He wonders what kind of expression you’d wear.
Maybe you’d be a bit shy. Maybe you’d be needy, desperate to ask him for more. Whatever’s the case it doesn’t matter, as long as he gets to hear your sweet voice.
Once he’s tested the waters he’d go faster, and he thinks about the heave of your chest, the short breaths you’d give him as you’re getting closer. Would you call him by his real name, or the nickname you’ve given him? He doesn’t really mind either way, but part of him hopes for the former. Regardless, the mental image of you cumming on his fingers along with your voice played on loop is enough to send him over the edge with a choked moan, hot ropes of his seed spilling from his slit. Yuuta’s body nearly gives out as he relaxes back into his chair, exhausted and out of breath.
“Alright, I’ll see you there then! This is a promise!” Your voice plays again through his phone as he finally comes down from his high.
So he steels himself. Tells himself that it doesn’t matter what the occasion is, he’ll make sure to go to the next live show, the one after, and the one after that. It’s a promise, after all.
—
The next time Yuuta goes to see you, he’s a bit more prepared. At least, that’s what he likes to tell himself.
In reality, he’s still just as nervous as the first time. While the video was nice, it just doesn’t hold a light to seeing you in person. Getting a waft of that sweet, floral perfume of yours as he approaches you, relishing at how the smell of the live venue just seems to disappear in your presence. Then there’s the ball that forms in his throat that he can’t swallow as he gets closer.
You light up as soon as you see him, star-bright.
“Yuu-tan!” you shuffle up to him with your arms outstretched for a hug, “I missed you!”
“I missed you too,” he says, and it feels like a weight’s been lifted off his chest. He brings you in closer, but feels a bit self conscious when he realizes just how tight you’re holding on to him. Tight enough that he can feel the curve of your tits pressed against him. Then he finds himself panicking and letting go.
“Did you have a good time at the show?” you ask, seemingly unphased by his internal plight.
”I did, I did,” he replies, nodding a bit too enthusiastically.
“I’m so happy you remembered our promise.”
”O-Of course.”
“What kind of pose did you want today?” Your expression softens as you put your hands behind your back and bend slightly, look up at him doe-eyed and curious.
After all he put into coming to the show, he’s stunned into silence. He had one in mind, but the idea simply melted as soon as he saw you. He can’t help it, it’s just what you do to him. He’s sure he’s making a fool out of himself again, and can feel it in the way his cheeks burn with embarrassment.
”Could you choose again?” he asks meekly.
“Hmm…” you muse, pouting dramatically and placing your chin in between your thumb and index finger. Yuuta waits with bated breath.
“Could you make a circle with your arms?” you say with a snap of your fingers.
”H-Huh? Sure.” He awkwardly follows your instructions, his fingertips meeting one another, miming the act of holding a large box against his chest.
You bend down and disappear from his vision, only to reappear between his arms.
“Boo!” you exclaim, palms faced outward with your fingers spread apart.
Yuuta’s startled. It isn’t that the act itself is scary, but the way you press against his chest and grin at him awakens a gnawing desire in his head. The lengths he would go to see you smile like this for him–just for him. By the time he’s shaking out the thoughts out his mind, he realizes you’ve been waiting for a response.
“Ah, you really scared me,” Yuuta jokes, feigning a scared expression to soothe his nerves.
“Hm? You think I’m scary, Yuu-tan?” you quip back, but then you’re pouting your lips, and the way the glitter glimmers under the stage lights makes it look like you’re going to cry.
It’s like you’ve pierced his heart, he swears he can feel it. Maybe with Cupid’s arrow. It seems like a side effect of this is becoming a blubbering mess every time he tries to speak.
“N-No, that’s not what I meant!”
“Don’t worry,” you giggle with a bright smile that soothes his heart, “I’m just messing with you.”
Gently, you adjust his position until his arms are wrapped tightly around your waist.
But when you press up against him, Yuuta thinks you’re approaching dangerous territory. Even with all the layers in your skirt, he swears he can make out the shape of your ass. It doesn’t help that you keep adjusting your position, brushing against his clothed cock multiple times over. All he can do is bite his tongue and hope that nothing comes to light.
“Yuu-tan, is this ok?” You look back at him with that innocent glimmer in your eyes.
”Y-Yeah, it’s perfect,” he replies, nearly biting his lip as he does so.
You give the cameraman the okay to take the picture, and with a countdown that feels longer than last time, the picture’s taken.
“You’ll come to the next show, right, Yuu-tan?”
“Of course.”
“Pinky promise?” You outstretch your pinky again, and this time, Yuuta’s swift on the uptake, wrapping his pinky around yours with more enthusiasm than last time. It’s such a simple gesture, but Yuuta is fond of promises and all they represent. Love intertwined in a simple hook of pinkies. The gentleness of your thumbs pressing against each other, the giggle that leaves your lips as you make a heart with your hands.
“Pinky promise,” he repeats with a gentle smile.
—
In the days that follow, Yuuta’s come to a realization.
Don’t get him wrong, seeing you perform is great and all, but his favorite moments with you are the intimate ones. The one on ones, the short and sweet conversations where he can tune out the rest of the world. And when he does the math, they’re too few and far between.
Simply put, he can’t wait for the next show. So, he forges his own opportunities. It’s just too easy to do when you post selfies of where you’re handing out flyers for the night. Part of him thinks your agency should be a little more conscious of internet safety, but then again he wouldn’t have been able to find out where you were if that were the case.
Thanks to your social media posts, it doesn’t take that long to find you. It’s busy in Shinjuku but it’s pretty easy to follow the endless trail of girls hanging out flyers. Even though you’re lined up with all the other idols, hostesses, and maids dressed to the nines to promote themselves, he could easily pick you out of the crowd. They just don’t hold a candle to you.
“Please come to our show!” you exclaim with a smile, waving the flyer and hoping the random man in front of you will take it. And for once, he does. So you look up. “Oh! Yuu-tan! What’re you doing here?”
Yuuta feels all warm and fuzzy at the mention of the pet name.
“Ah, I was just running some errands,” he says sheepishly.
“Really?” you ask back in a hushed whisper before breaking into a smile, “what a coincidence!”
Before you can comment any further, a man sneaks into your field of vision and interrupts the conversation, shyly waving his hand at you and asking for a flyer. Your eyes light up for a second before you turn to give him your attention.
“Please come to our show!” you casually hand over the flyer to the stranger with a smile.
Yuuta doesn’t like that.
For a split second, he thinks you should quit being an idol. But then the thought boomerangs back, sits and marinates as he considers it further.
Yeah. That might be a good idea.
“It was nice chatting with you Yuu-tan, but I really gotta get back to work.” You pout at him. It hits him differently this time. He almost mistakes it for guilt, but it’s not quite that. It’s not as surface level, gets deep under his skin like poison and spreads unease throughout his body.
“I’ll see you at the next show, Yuu-tan!” you send him off with a wave and a smile, one he thinks is too soon.
Yuuta waits for you to brand your pinky for him, but it never comes.
Disappointment. It’s disappointment.
He’s been a fool. You’re distracted by all these so-called fans that you can’t see what’s right in front of you. Worse of all, your agency is putting you up to it. He really thinks it’s time for you to quit.
So Yuuta waits.
For an idol, you lack a crucial sense of self-awareness. You don’t even notice when Yuuta follows behind you once you finish your shift. Even as the bustle of the city crowd quiets down as you make your way to your agency building on a random side street, you don’t notice he’s trailing behind. Imagine how much danger you’d be in if some crazy fan were to follow you. You’re lucky to have Yuuta there for you, he just needs to make you see it too.
He almost loses you when you leave the agency building in much more normal and muted. He nearly has to stop himself from drooling at the sight of it. He can see it so clearly, the image of you wearing it on a date with him. Maybe it’d be at a cafe, somewhere he can see you laugh and smile with him as he feeds you an intricate, overpriced slice of cake. But before he gets too lost in his imagination, Yuuta shakes it off and resolves himself to continue following you.
The longer he follows you, the more Yuuta starts to feel invisible. You don’t notice him when he’s right behind you at the turnstill. When he follows you through all the twists and turns of the station, hell, even when he’s three spots behind you in line for the train. The lack of self-preservation is stunning, he thinks. More than that, how could you not notice your number one fan, your boyfriend, putting in all this effort to make sure nobody hurt you? But it doesn’t matter–soon enough you won’t have to worry about that.
You step off the train after a few stops, and Yuuta’s always behind you, not that you’re aware. The rush of people leaving the train is enough to help him blend in, but once you leave the station he adds some slack to the distance.
Another fifteen minutes of walking and he’s there, watching from a distance as you unlock your apartment and go inside.
Yuuta waits a minute before approaching the unit you just walked into. The lock to your apartment isn’t anything he can’t break through, and with a pointed blast of cursed energy, the lock breaks with a quiet snap. He makes a note to himself to tell you to get a better place.
Then again, it’d be best if you just lived with him anyways. He’d take care of anything, everything, as long as it’s for you.
The door creaks just a little as he opens it slowly, careful not to disturb you.
The apartment is cramped, narrow halls made even smaller by the coats you have hanging on wall hooks, but just down the corridor he can see your living room. Calmly, he takes off his shoes and places them down neatly next to yours before quietly walking over. You aren’t there.
He backtracks to where the hallway splits, approaching the bedroom door. It’s slightly ajar, tantalizing like a bow on top of a present. It’s as if you were expecting him.
When he pushes the door open with a slight tap, Yuuta’s greeted by a half naked figure. You were probably in the middle of undressing. He takes a moment to mentally thank whatever higher up there gave him the blessing of perfect timing.
“Get out of my apartment!” you yell, throwing whatever you can at him, but it doesn’t seem to do any damage. He walks casually towards you, even as you tremble. He doesn’t understand why you’re shaking, but he knows he can fix it. You have nothing to worry about, everything will be better now that he’s here.
His expression softens as soon as you look him in the eyes.
“Hey, hey, it’s just me,” Yuuta coos.
“Y-Yuu-tan?” you ask, voice out of breath from thrashing around, “what are you doing here?” your voice drops in a way that he hasn’t heard before. It’s intimate, he thinks.
“I’ve been worried about you,” he says, a tenderness wrapped in his words.
“Worried?” you ask in the softest tone he’s ever heard. It endears him.
“Yeah. You didn’t pinky promise me today.”
“Huh?”
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You usually pinky promise me before you say bye. But you were so distracted today.”
There’s a brief pause, but it feels like it lasts a lifetime. Yuuta studies your expression, one he doesn’t recognize. When your eyes meet his, he takes it as a sign to explain himself further.
“And it’s not just that. During your lives, I see you looking at other guys and it really hurts me,” his voice softens, his chest tightening at the confession. He notices the tears falling down your face, and scrambles to make it better. “But you don’t need to do any of this anymore. You have me,” he says with a hand against his heart.
It doesn’t seem to help as your barely contained cries become louder.
“Yuu-tan, you’re scaring me,” you confess.
He tilts his head.
“I don’t think I’ve said anything scary?”
Another pause. He waits for an answer but isn’t given one he wants as you run for the door. It’s a losing game to run from him, his body quick to shield you from the door, his hand tightly wrapping around your wrist.
“Why are you running?” he asks, genuine hurt in his voice.
“Because you’re scaring me, Yuu-tan,” you reply, voice trembling.
“I’m not trying to be scary, I just want to be a good boyfriend for you,” he whispers softly against your ear, and to prove his point, his hand grazes your thigh, traveling further until his fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear. “Make you feel good like you’ve done for me,” he says breathlessly.
“N-No, I don’t want this, please,” you beg.
Your words are rearranged by the time they hit his ears. For all intents and purposes, all he hears is “I want this, please” and that’s all he needs to kiss you. It’s soft for a moment, but then it’s as if something snapped inside him.
There’s no patience behind it; he’s waited so long after all. He kisses like his time with you is sand trickling down an hourglass and he’s on his last grains. All groans and grasping at your cheeks to keep you with him, hot and heavy.
“Y-Yuu-tan, please,” you plead shakily.
There’s something at the end of your words he doesn’t catch, but he’s all too willing to give you what you want, especially when you’re asking so nicely.
Your breathing quickens as his hand presses down on your legs so you can’t escape. Yuuta’s hand gingerly traces up your thigh until he gets to your underwear. The soft breath you let out when he brushes over your clit sends blood rushing straight down to his cock.
His tongue brushes against the cotton fabric of your underwear, a cute moan leaving your lips, just for him. It’s what he’s been craving to hear, the subject of all his sweetest dreams and basest fantasies, and it’s better than he could have ever imagined. Now that he has it, he needs more.
There’s no warning, no tact to his movements, he can’t hold himself back any longer. There's only pure, unadulterated desperation with every stroke of his tongue against your underwear until he finally pulls the fabric to the side.
When your hand grasps his hair, he’s taken by surprise but he doesn’t dislike it. He indulges you and even lets out a throaty moan when you tighten your grip. He didn’t take you for the rowdy type, but you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?
It enables him further to dive into you and lap around your clit to hear those short gasps that sound like music to his ears. His arms wrap around your thighs to bring you in further, his nose pressing into you as he starts to build a steady tempo.
It seems to be too much for you with the way your body keeps shifting, but Yuuta is nothing if not determined. Maybe you’re testing the depths of his dedication, but there’s no universe where he’d ever fail you. No matter how much you move, he’s stuck to you like a leech, sucking at your clit with fervor. There’s intention with every motion, in the way he huffs and inhales deeply through his nostrils, in the messy way he sucks and slurps at your slick.
Even though he’s working so hard to please you, something’s not quite right. You’re so… quiet. It makes Yuuta think you’re holding yourself back. There’s no need for that, especially between lovers. Soulmates, even.
“Let me hear how good you feel,” he pants between breaths, “it’s okay.”
His movements become more pointed, determination lighting a fire in his stomach just to hear how sweet you get when you cum. The anticipation is killing him, but he thinks there’s been a breakthrough when your thighs tighten around his head, your breaths getting shorter by the second.
When you finally cum, it’s nothing short of heavenly. Sweeter than any note he’s heard you sing on stage, better than what he’s heard in his dreams. It’s not just that, but the full body reaction as well. The trembling, the taut muscles, the rise and fall of your chest– it’s all so erotic.
So your love language is words of affirmation. He makes note of that.
The only complaint Yuuta has is that the moment was far too short lived for his tastes. He has to hear more. See more. Have more. His fingers press gently against your wet hole, one small push from penetrating.
“W-Wait, it’s sensitive–”
Yuuta cuts you off by slipping it in with ease, quickly followed by another. Hungrily looks at the point where he’s connected to you. He starts slowly, fingers carefully pressing and curling until he finds a spot that gives him the reaction he’s looking for.
“Too-too much, stop-”
He doesn’t. Why would he ever deprive you of pleasure? He presses in further, bullies the spot that makes you scream louder. It’s not long until he sends you tumbling into another climax. It’s far more drawn out than the first. He can feel it in the way your walls convulse around his fingers.
Even though it might be too much, Yuuta still fingers you through it. He can’t help it. You just look so cute like this, reduced to a sputtering mess. And knowing that he’s the only one who has the privilege of seeing this side of you? He’s on cloud nine.
He knows he’s being a bit mean right now. But there’s so much lost time to make up for. He might also be letting his jealousy of seeing you with another man get the better of him right now, but it’s ok. At the end of the day, he’s making you feel good.
Yuuta watches with wonder and amusement as you cum again. He almost feels bad for pushing you this far, seeing the way you squeeze your eyes shut and thrash around through your orgasm. While he’s not a fan of your pain, he loves being your source of comfort, the one to clean up your tears. It’s a necessary evil, he tells himself.
Yuuta plants a trail of kisses down your neck to help shoulder the burden, and it seems to help as you come down from your high.
“You’re doing so good for me,” he sighs, adoration laced in his voice as he kisses your forehead.
“Y-Yuu-tan,” you pant, “you’ve already made me feel so good. D-Don’t you think that’s enough?”
“Of course not,” he responds with a soft gasp as if he’s incredulous at the idea, “I have so much more I want to give you.”
“More?” you ask shakily.
“Mhm,” he purrs with a soft smile, unphased by the tremor in your voice. His fingers slide in and out of you with ease, drawing another soft lewd sound out of you.
“No, no, no, I can’t, I can’t-” you plead, before you’re cut off by a kiss. Yuuta notices you have this habit of denying yourself anything good for you, but you don’t need to do that. What are boyfriends for? He doesn’t stop, even when you scratch and leave blossoming trails of rose on his skin. It only makes him intensify his movements, picking a fast rhythmic pace to hit that spot that makes you moan so sweetly.
When you cum with a wail, Yuuta’s there to swallow every cry you give him, tongue swirling against yours to help you through it. There’s a tenderness to it, as if he’s telling you it’ll all be okay. In between labored breaths he huffs in your ear with a neediness in his tone, “let it all out for me.”
He didn’t mean it literally, but he’s not displeased with the results either. That being said, it does catch him by surprise when you clench and gush all over him and the sheets. The warmth of you soaking his pants makes him feel dizzy with lust. Next thing he knows he’s nose deep into your folds, lapping up at everything you have to give. Not a drop goes to waste, not when he lifts your legs and traces the trail of juices from the fat of your ass to your inner thigh.
It’s just too much for him. When he comes up for air, he’s hastily picking at his pants.
“Have you done this for anyone else?” he asks as he unbuckles his belt and slides down his pants.
You shake your head furiously in embarrassment. It’s cute. Part of him wishes he could record a video of it and save it for later. But there’s more pressing matters at hand.
Yuuta’s hard cock presses against the fabric of his boxers, begging to be freed. His hand barely breaks through the elastic when it springs free, slapping his stomach from the recoil. Seeing your hole slick with arousal for him is almost enough to make him cum right there. He takes a deep breath and tries to collect himself.
Yuuta strokes his cock before pressing it between your folds, collecting all your arousal along the way. Even this is enough to make him shiver, feel it deep in his core. He bites his lip and lines himself up with your entrance. The sight of your hole quivering as he taps his tip against it makes him lightheaded.
So he starts slow, presses against your cunt steadily until he gets past that first ring of muscle that makes you gasp. From there, it’s just a matter of patience and self control, pushing further and further until he finally bottoms out with a groan. It goes in so easily, it’s like you were made for this–for him. Yuuta feels like he’s floating.
While Yuuta’s never been one to think about his size, he still sees you squeezing your eyes shut. His hand caresses your cheek before he reaches for your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours. He brings your hand up to his lips and gives your fingers a chaste kiss, from one lover trying to comfort another.
“Hey, it’s in. It wasn’t that bad, right?” he asks softly, like he’s letting you in on a secret.
You give him a shy nod, and he smiles at that.
“You’re doing so good for me,” he praises, gently wiping the tears from your eyes. Even in the afterglow of your tears, you look beautiful. Then again, he’d find beauty in anything you give him. It doesn’t matter what kind of expression you wear, as long as it’s just for him.
“I’ll start slow, ok?” Yuuta brandishes his pinky.
There’s a moment of pause, a shake to your hand as you wrap your pinky around his. He’s already one step ahead of you and swiftly seals it with a kiss and a giggle.
Yuuta keeps his promise, as he languidly rolls his hips into yours. It takes every ounce of self control to keep a slower pace, but he has to savor his first time with you. You feel perfect around him–your warmth enveloping him like a blanket, almost suffocating with its embrace. It’s too much for him, he can’t keep biting his lip and holding back his moans. Then again, he’d be a hypocrite holding himself back, wouldn’t he?
So he lets whatever sounds caught in his throat escape through his lips, lets you hear just how much you’re messing him up. All broken groans and whimpers of your name. And maybe it’s a bit too much for you, seeing you grab the pillow to cover your face. But Yuuta isn’t embarrassed, and you shouldn’t be either, so he’s quick to toss the pillow off the side of the bed.
“Y-Yuu-tan, please,” you ask.
It sounds like there’s something else you were going to say, but the noise thins out into a hushed whine. But Yuuta can read between the lines. His hands spread your legs apart further for leverage, his lips pressing against yours until he builds it up to a slew of open mouthed kisses. Tongue against tongue, choked gasps and moans escaping into each other’s mouths. He kisses you like he wants to consume you, breathes in so intensely like you’re the air he needs in his lungs.
It’s everything he’s ever wanted. He can’t help himself from rutting his hips into yours a little harder, losing himself in the soft plush of your walls squeezing him tighter with every passing moment. Even the wet sounds of his cock fucking into you is melodic to him, along with your staccatoed gasps, it’s an earworm he wouldn’t mind keeping.
He can’t let himself all the fun though, his fingers making their way to your throbbing clit. It seems to catch you by surprise, earning a yelp from you that soon melts into a moan.
“Yuuta-”
The world stops moving. It’s as if he’s frozen in place as soon as he hears his name from your lips. No nickname, no extra letter. Just Yuuta. It’s enough to make his head spin, his nerves go haywire as he snaps his hips into yours faster, desperate to hear it again.
“Say it again,” he groans breathlessly, desperately trying to keep himself from cumming right then and there.
“Yuuta, Yuuta-” you whine in that tone he’s dreamt of, stroked himself to on lonely nights and he’s so close. All self control goes out the window as he practically fucks you into the mattress. He feels delirious feverish with an ailment that can only be cured through you. He can’t let you go; not now, not ever.
An idea hits him like a strike of lightning, reverberates throughout his entire being. His pace slows for a second. There’s a look of confusion on your face.
“If we have a baby, you’ll have to quit, right?” he asks, his finger gently tracing a heart around your stomach.
Your pupils dilate. Yuuta recalls that it’s a sign of love. Affection. His heart skips a beat.
“Y-Yuu-tan,” you mumble, a tremor in your voice, “what are you saying?”
“You’ll have to stay if we have a baby,” he whispers into your ear before his hips snap into yours, “right?”
You make some unintelligible noise in response, but he knows it’s just because you’re overwhelmed with joy at the idea. Knowing you’re happy makes him happy too.
There’s no time to waste, an urgency to Yuuta’s movements as he pushes against your legs until you’re folded into a mating press. His hips pick up a steady rhythm, the loud slap of skin echoing throughout the room.
Yuuta fucks you like he means to make good his proposal–his body pressed flush against yours, his hands wrapping around the back of your head to bring you into his embrace. He throws caution to the wind, lets lust take over.
Everything about you is overwhelming. How you scratch at his back, how you bite down on his neck hard enough to draw blood, how your legs tremble with each stroke. It’s like you want it just as bad as he does.
And who is he to deny you? His hand slips between your sweat covered bodies, trails down to your throbbing clit to show it some love. He wants you to feel as good as he does, or better. Preferably the latter.
He knows he’s doing a good job when he hears that tell-tale sign of your breaths quickening, along with your heart beating faster against his chest.
But something’s off.
You won’t stop throwing your body around, as if you’re trying to loosen his grip around you.
If this is your way of testing his love, then he’s passing with flying colors. It only lights a fire in him, determination ablaze in his fingertips as he draws tighter circles around your clit, the roll of his hips morphing to something slower, but deeper. It’s only a matter of seconds before your body gives in to his love and affection, cries sputtering from your mouth as your muscles tense up around him.
Yuuta can’t control himself any longer with your pussy convulsing around him, his pace becoming erratic, his breathing heavier. His voice breaks, a shaky whine catches in his throat before he goes over the edge.
“Love you, love you so much,” he cries before cumming, burying himself deep inside and making sure to give you everything he has. Every twitch of his cock leads to the undeniable warmth of his seed painting your insides white.
He takes a moment to collect himself and catch his breath, but he doesn’t take himself out of you. It’s like the intensity catches up with him all at once as he collapses onto you. Even in his state of exhaustion, he finds the energy to gingerly kiss your forehead.
“We’ll be so happy together, I promise.”
