Aug 6
⸺ Makoto Kino
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⸺ Makoto Kino
⸺ Makoto Katai
makoto naegi x SA survivor reader!
requested by: 🍑 anon
cw: maybe a lil angst? comfort, mentions/implies of SA, fluff
a/n: reader acts like ryoma, sorry if that’s not what you had in mind
makoto naegi who knows to take it slow with you, even if you’re cold and maybe even distant at first he doesn’t blame you
makoto naegi who won’t press you to talk about your SA, he knows if you want to he will
makoto naegi who treats you like he would anyone else, he doesn’t see the need to treat you like a child because of what happened
makoto naegi who doesn’t let ANYONE give shit to you
makoto naegi who’s really happy once you open up to him
#makotobestbf
(Sorry this is so short I had no clue what else to write..)
makoto yuki nsfw headcanons
pairing: makoto yuki / minato arisato x gn!reader
tags: smut / suggestive, inexperienced!makoto -> makoto gaining experience, implied romantic relationship
makoto doesn't have a high sex drive. he honestly just tries to match his partner. so if you don't want to have sex at all, he's cool with that and will take care of his own needs. but if you have a higher drive, he'll attempt to match that!
usually makoto will just go along with whatever you want in bed! if you want him to try something specific, he'll give it a shot! but he's more prone to just laying there and letting you try out stuff on him
makoto doesn't have much experience! you're probably his first time, even if he won't tell you that and most of his knowledge comes from the internet, giving him a bit of an unrealistic expectation
makoto is a switch, who needs a bit of both to feel fulfilled! he likes to lay down and watch you take control, while also enjoying to have some control over you from time to time!
he starts off not very freaky, but makoto has the potential to really figure himself out and get quite kinky with enough time passing! it just takes him a while to feel comfortable enough
Hi, I really like your writing (◍•ᴗ•◍)✧*。
I was wondering if I could request an NSFW Makoto Naegi x insecure fem reader
And you can add as much fluff as you want ♡
⋆˙⟡.ೃ࿔⋆ yaaay another makoto fic, i like when protags get attention especially because i usually ignore them when i play games and self-insert lol
↳ REQUESTS OPEN
WARNINGS: bottom!reader
female reader
The bedroom lamp casts a warm honey glow across the sheets. You’re already under the covers, knees pulled toward your chest even though it’s just the two of you. Makoto stands at the foot of the bed in nothing but his loose plaid sleep pants, hair still a little damp from the shower, looking at you like you hung every star he’s ever wished on.
"You’re doing the thing again," he says gently, smile small and knowing.
"What thing?"
"Hiding." He climbs onto the mattress, slow so the bed hardly dips. "You always pull your knees up when you start thinking too hard about how you look."
Heat crawls up your neck. You open your mouth to deny it—then close it again because he’s right and he always notices.
Makoto settles beside you, propped on one elbow. His free hand reaches out and brushes your hair behind your ear, thumb lingering on your cheekbone.
"I like every single part of you," he says, voice quiet but certain, the same tone he uses when he’s stating something obvious like "the sky is blue". "Every part. Can I show you?"
Your throat feels tight. You manage a tiny nod.
He doesn’t rush.
He starts with your forehead—soft kiss. Then the bridge of your nose. The apple of one cheek, then the other. The corner of your mouth. Each press of his lips is deliberate, like he’s mapping every inch he’s allowed to adore tonight. When he finally kisses you properly, it’s slow and deep and tastes faintly of mint toothpaste; his tongue brushes yours like he’s asking permission even though you’ve done this a hundred times before.
His palm slides under the hem of your oversized sleep shirt—his shirt, technically, one you stole months ago—and rests warm and steady against your bare stomach.
"Is this okay?" he murmurs against your lips.
You nod again, faster this time.
He pushes the fabric up inch by inch, exposing your ribs, the soft curve under your breasts, then higher until cool air kisses your skin. You fight the instinct to cover yourself; Makoto must feel the tension because he pulls back just enough to look at you.
"God," he breathes, eyes wide and reverent. "You’re so beautiful it makes my chest hurt sometimes."
He lowers his head and kisses the space right between your breasts, then trails lower, open-mouthed and lingering, across the gentle swell of your stomach. Every time you tense he pauses, waits for you to relax, then continues. When his lips brush the sensitive skin just above your navel you let out a shaky laugh that turns into a whimper.
"Ticklish?" he asks, grinning against your skin.
"A little—don’t stop."
"Wasn’t planning to."
He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pauses again, waiting. You lift your hips without being asked. The fabric slides down your thighs, over your knees, off your ankles. Then you’re bare from the waist down and he’s looking at you like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again.
Makoto settles between your legs, shoulders nudging your thighs farther apart. He doesn’t dive in; instead he presses slow, wet kisses to the crease where thigh meets hip, first one side, then the other, deliberately avoiding where you’re already aching for him.
"Makoto…" Your voice cracks.
"I know." He finally looks up, eyes soft and dark at the same time. "I’ve got you."
His tongue flicks out—once, light, testing—then he groans low in his throat like he’s the one being spoiled. He licks a slow stripe up your center, savoring, and your hips jerk before you can stop them. He bands one arm across your hips, holding you gently in place, and goes back to work with patient, loving strokes. Every swirl of his tongue, every soft suck against your clit, comes with a little hum of contentment, like he could do this for hours and be perfectly happy.
When your thighs start trembling he pulls back just long enough to whisper.
"You taste so good. Did you know that? I think about it all the time."
You cover your face with both hands. He laughs softly and kisses the inside of your thighs until you lower them again.
"Look at me," he says. "Please?"
You do. His chin is shiny, cheeks flushed, hair falling into his eyes. He looks wrecked in the sweetest way.
"I want to feel you come on my tongue first," he tells you, honest and a little shy even now. "Then I want to be inside you. Is that okay?"
You nod so fast it makes him chuckle.
He doesn’t make you wait long. Two fingers slide inside you, curling just right, while his mouth returns to your clit with focused little sucks. The combination undoes you embarrassingly fast; pleasure coils tight, snaps, and you arch off the mattress with a broken cry of his name. He doesn’t stop until you’re twitching, oversensitive, weakly pushing at his hair.
When he finally lifts his head he’s smiling like he just won the lottery.
"C’mere," he murmurs, crawling up your body.
You feel the hard length of him against your thigh through his sleep pants. It's hot, insistent, and already leaking. He kisses you deep so you can taste yourself on his tongue, and somehow that makes you clench around nothing all over again.
"Can I…?" He rocks his hips once, asking.
"Please."
He shoves his pants down just enough. His cock springs free—thick enough to make your mouth water, flushed dark at the tip, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the slit. He wraps his hand around the base and drags the head through your folds, coating himself in your slick.
The first press of him at your entrance makes you both gasp.
"Slow," he breathes, more to himself than you. "Gonna go slow."
He pushes in one careful inch. Your walls flutter around the stretch; he’s hot, hard, and so thick you feel every vein as he sinks deeper. Halfway in he pauses, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard.
"You feel…" He shudders. "So perfect. Like you were made just for me."
He keeps talking in soft, rambling, sweet nothings while he rocks the rest of the way inside.
"You’re so warm…so wet…damn, I can feel you squeezing me every time I move…you don’t even know how good you feel…I love you, I love you so much…"
When he’s finally buried to the hilt he stills, letting you adjust, letting you feel the way he throbs inside you. Your legs wrap around his waist on instinct, pulling him closer, deeper.
He starts moving—slow, rolling thrusts that drag against every sensitive place inside you. Every time he bottoms out he grinds his pelvis against your clit, little circles that make sparks shoot up your spine.
"Look at me," he whispers again, voice wrecked. "I Wanna see your face when you come this time."
You lock eyes with him. His pupils are blown wide, cheeks flushed, lips parted. Every few thrusts he dips down to kiss you—messy, desperate, but still so gentle.
One hand finds yours, laces your fingers together, presses your joined hands into the pillow beside your head. The other slips between your bodies so his thumb can circle your clit in time with his thrusts.
"I’m close," you gasp.
"Me too." He presses his forehead to yours again. "Come with me, okay? Please—wanna feel you come around my cock."
The words, the steady drag of him inside you, the perfect pressure of his thumb—it all crashes together at once. You clench hard, crying out his name as your orgasm rips through you, wave after wave. Makoto groans brokenly, thrusts turning erratic, and then he’s pulsing inside you—hot, deep spurts that make you shiver as he fills you up.
He collapses half on top of you, careful not to crush you, panting against your neck.
For a long minute neither of you speaks. Just breathing. His heartbeat thumping against your chest. His softening cock still inside you, warm and intimate.
Eventually he lifts his head, brushes damp hair off your forehead, and smiles softly, stupidly in love.
"You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen," he murmurs. "And you’re mine. And I’m never gonna stop reminding you."
You feel tears prick your eyes—overwhelmed and happy tears.
He kisses the corner of your eye where the first tear slips free.
"Stay like this a little longer?" you whisper.
He nods, already settling more comfortably on top of you, still buried inside, arms wrapping around you like he never plans to let go.
"As long as you want. Forever, if you let me."
Hi, I really love your work and I love the ideas you come up with from it ♡♡ This time I want to try to request something, but I'm not sure if it will be a bit complicated...
In the novel "Makoto Naegi's worst day" a girl is mentioned who was supposed to be the Ultimate Lucky Student before Makoto.
I want to request a Makoto Naegi x the real ultimate lucky student, you can include all the ideas you like, and if you listen to my request I will be more than grateful✧*。
⋆˙⟡.ೃ࿔⋆ writing these as i watch a show with my fiancée sorry for any typos
↳ REQUESTS OPEN
gender neutral reader
While others might be terrified of the sheer scale of your fortune (or the chaos it causes to get there), Makoto just sees it as part of who you are. He’s the only one who doesn't treat you like a phenomenon; he treats you like a partner
You often feel like a hurricane, and Makoto is the anchor. If your luck causes a freak windstorm just so a rare book lands at your feet, Makoto is the one calmly holding your hand so you don't blow away. He provides the stability your talent lacks
Your luck can be loud and disruptive. Makoto is the king of smoothing things over. If your luck causes a celebrity to crash their limo into your yard (only to give you a front-row concert ticket as an apology), Makoto is already out there with a glass of water for the driver, making sure everyone is okay
Even though you are technically "invincible" because of your luck, Makoto still worries. He’ll walk on the street side of the sidewalk, or check the weather five times before you go out. It’s unnecessary, but you love that he wants to protect you manually rather than relying on your talent to do it
Makoto's never intimidated by your "Extreme Luck"—he just thinks it’s amazing that someone as spectacular as you wants to spend time with a "normal lucky guy" like him
Your luck can be exhausting because it’s always on—it's high-stakes and high-energy. However, being around Makoto feels like a "Luck Dampener". When you’re holding his hand or leaning on his shoulder, the reality-bending coincidences seem to settle down into something manageable. It’s as if his "Normal Luck" creates a buffer zone where you can finally just breathe without a literal chest of gold falling from the sky and ruining your floor
perhaps possessive makoto naegi x top male reader? (fic)
⋆˙⟡.ೃ࿔⋆ mmm i love me possessive love interests like yes i AM only yours please prove it to me
↳ REQUESTS OPEN
WARNINGS: possessive!makoto, sub!reader, top!reader
male reader
The dorm is quiet except for the soft click of the lock turning under Makoto’s fingers.
He’d beaten you back by maybe ten minutes—enough time to shower, change into nothing but loose sleep pants, and wait. When you step inside he’s already there, blocking the narrow path between the desk and the bed, arms crossed, chin tilted up in that rare stubborn angle that makes his normally soft face look sharp.
"You're late," he says. Not a whine. A statement. Low. Dangerous in how calm it is.
You raise an eyebrow, kicking the door shut behind you.
"Meeting ran over. You know how Kirigiri gets when—"
"I don't care." He steps closer until he’s in your space, close enough that you can smell the clean citrus of his shampoo and feel the heat rolling off him. "You were supposed to be here. With me."
His hand shoots out, fingers curling tight into the front of your shirt. He yanks you down until your faces are inches apart.
"Mine," he breathes against your mouth. The word isn’t sweet. It’s a claim, edged and possessive, like he’s been chewing on it the whole time you were gone.
Before you can answer he’s kissing you—hard, hungry, teeth catching your bottom lip just shy of breaking skin. You feel the tremor in his grip, the way his other hand slides up to fist in your hair and hold you exactly where he wants you.
When he pulls back his pupils are huge, cheeks flushed, breathing ragged.
"Strip," he orders.
"Bossy tonight." You smirk despite yourself.
"I said strip." His eyes narrow.
There’s something almost feral in the way he watches you obey—jacket hitting the floor, shirt tugged over your head, belt clinking as you shove your pants down. He doesn’t blink once. Just tracks every movement like he’s memorizing the sight of you baring yourself for him.
When you’re naked he finally moves.
Small hands push at your chest until the backs of your knees hit the mattress and you drop onto the bed. Makoto is on you in an instant, straddling your hips, pinning your wrists to the sheets with surprising strength for someone his size.
"You don't get to be late again." he murmurs, grinding down slow and deliberate so you feel how hard he already is through the thin fabric of his pants. "You don’t get to make me wait. You don’t get to let anyone else keep you from me."
He leans down, lips brushing the shell of your ear.
"Say it."
You swallow. Feel the pulse in your throat jump under his stare.
"I'm yours."
"Not good enough." His hips roll again, harder this time, dragging a low groan out of you. "Louder. Mean it."
"I'm yours. Makoto."
He makes a pleased little sound—almost a growl—and finally shoves his own pants down just enough to free himself. He’s leaking already, flushed dark at the tip. He doesn’t bother with prep beyond spitting into his palm and slicking himself up in quick, impatient strokes
"Hands above your head," he says. "Don't move them."
You obey. Something about the way he’s looking at you—like you’re the only thing in the universe that matters, and he’s terrified of losing even a second of it—makes resistance feel pointless.
He lines himself up, sinks down in one long, steady push.
The stretch is tight, almost too much; you both hiss at the same time. His head drops forward, hair falling into his eyes, and for a second the mask cracks—he looks wrecked, overwhelmed, like taking you inside him is the only thing keeping him sane.
Then he starts moving.
Slow at first. Controlled. Every roll of his hips deliberate, dragging you against every sensitive place inside him until he’s trembling on top of you. His nails dig into your chest for balance, leaving red crescents.
"Mine," he pants between thrusts. "My—fuck—mine."
You try to thrust up to meet him; he slams a hand down on your hip, pinning you in place.
"No. You take what I give you."
He picks up speed, riding you harder, chasing his own pleasure with single-minded focus. His thighs flex, stomach tight, little broken moans spilling out every time he grinds down just right. You can feel him clenching around you, fluttering, so close already.
"Look at me," he demands suddenly, voice cracking. "Look at who you belong to."
Your eyes snap to his. His gaze is wild and possessive in a way that makes your chest hurt.
"Say my name when you cum," he orders. "Only my name."
He shifts his angle, grinds right against that spot inside himself—and comes with a choked cry, spilling hot and messy across your stomach. The way he clamps down around you is brutal, rhythmic, milking you until you can’t hold back.
"Makoto—" You arch under him, spilling deep, hips jerking despite his grip. He keeps moving through it, slower now, working you both through the aftershocks until you’re both oversensitive and shaking.
Only then does he finally still.
He collapses forward onto your chest, arms wrapping around your shoulders in a grip that’s almost too tight. His face presses into the side of your neck; you feel the damp heat of his breath, the way he’s still trembling.
"Don’t be late again," he whispers, voice small now, raw. "I hate it. I hate not knowing where you are. I hate…not having you."
You bring your arms down—finally allowed—and wrap them around him, one hand carding through his damp hair.
"I'm here," you murmur against his temple. "I'm not going anywhere."
He exhales shakily. Nuzzles closer. His fingers trace lazy, possessive circles over your heart.
"Good," he says, soft but certain. "Because you’re mine. And I don’t share."
Sleepy kiss
𝆹𝅥 Romantic drabble
𝆹𝅥 Makoto Naegi (DANGANRONPA TRIGGER HAPPY HAVOC)
Makoto may not look like it but he can be quite clingy, he clings to your side in every chance he gets by habit, just staying close to you reasures him in a way he can't explain so he doesn't even notice he is following you around and staying close to you in a clingy way until someone points it out
But he can't help it, it just comes like the normal thing to do and as long as you don't complain he doesn't see why it would be a problem, even when you two stay up until late night just for being too distracted with what you two were doing, he has gotten so used to it that by now staying up until late and saying goodnight with a clumsy and sleepy kiss on the cheek, it has become the normal. Makoto has gotten so used to it that if you two ever forget it, even when he is already really sleepy he can't shake off the feeling that something is missing, it may make him feel embarrased but he has grown to love it so much that he can overcome that embarrasment just for the little kiss he loves so much