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cruel-hiraeth · 2 months ago

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꒰ BEAUTIFUL TORMENT ꒱ OKKOTSU YUUTA X READER

warnings ⟢ dead dove: do not eat. minors, blank blogs, and ageless blogs do not interact—i will block you! yandere. captivity. stockholm syndrome. mental unwellness. dub/noncon. pet play. omorashi + piss play. cunnilingus. butt plug mention. food mentions. afab + gn reader. pet names are: bunny, my love, baby, sweetness. reader refers to yuuta as “yuuta-sama.”

word count ⟢ 2.3k

notes ⟢ this is my (incredibly belated) birthday present to yuuta! it was a massive undertaking to write; what initially began as a tiny drabble spiraled into...well, this. please heed the warnings before reading! and if you do read, be sure to let me know what you think! mwah <3

It’s impossible to tell the time of day in a room with neither clocks nor windows—not that you need to worry your precious little head with keeping time.

Time is not your master, after all.

Your existence is split in two—not unlike that of the earth: ever rotating on its axis, kissed by sunbeams from dawn until dusk, then solemnly accepting the moon’s company. Waiting for your master’s light to cut through the shadowy pitch of night is lonely; basking in his presence during the day is suffocating. You are either with or without him, for he is the extent of your life.

There is nothing else.

Lifetimes ago, you resented him. Aimless yet headstrong, you were a feral stray to others and yourself. You spat in the face of his kindness, biting his hand with all the strength you could muster—a wilfull thing, he affectionately called you, unphased by the bloody rivulets coursing down his forearm. His was the only hand that ever deigned to feed you, but compassion was foreign to your frozen heart. It made your chest ache uncomfortably.

(He still dons the scars you gifted him; memento vivere. Sometimes, when you cling to the euphoria of being cradled as he slumbers, you lick each gnarled patch of tissue—repentant before your sins.)

While your spirit was difficult for your master to forge, he recast your body with ease. Quickly, your nerves memorized the savage shock of pain and the satisfying hum of pleasure. Even though there was a disconnect with your unyielding mind, your body was obedient when you faltered; honest when you lied; meek when you resisted. It was a steep adjustment—melting down and fitting into the mold he created for you.

But you now bear the invisible marks of his torment beautifully.

Reflecting on your past cruelty and ignorance is excruciating. While you’ve done your best to forget, memories claw at your psyche when you’re swathed in starlight, solitary and susceptible. Though you know you belong with him—at his feet or by his side, whatever he deems fit, until death do you part—your subconscious is less convinced.

Dreams are never a reprieve; they haunt you. Remnants of your hatred linger on, your shadow self gnawing on the thought of ripping him to shreds when he’s at his most vulnerable, hair falling across his closed eyes—a picture of soft, boyish innocence. It’s an exhausting ordeal, feeling as though you’re at war in your sleep, never able to relax. Once you awaken, your lungs burn. Something within you cracks open and yawns.

Do you not deserve peace?

Curled up in your bed, half-delirious and longing for daylight, your ears perk at the thump, thump, thump of footsteps descending the staircase.

You would recognize the distinct vibrations of his footfalls even if you were deaf; the reverberations resonate in your bones, thrumming from your crown to your toes. Each muffled thud sets your dormant body alight, kindling the snuffed embers in your core—Pavlov’s tinkling bell. If you had a tail, it would be twitching in anticipation. Your weary heart beats only for him.

My sun.

My sun my sun my sun.

One by one, the chain lock, deadbolt, knob lock, and padlock that keep you sheltered and secure click and clink into place. The doorknob twists as the door creaks open, gingerly shutting seconds later.

“How’s my bunny?” Yuuta’s mellow voice rings out.

Approaching you, he soaks in your huddled figure with a distressed frown. On the nightstand, he notes your empty snack plate and drained water jug.

(When he first takes you in, you outright refuse sustenance, launching a hunger strike. You fail spectacularly, of course. Yuuta pivots with finesse; he makes you taste the bitter dehumanization of being strapped down and force-fed.

Afterward—though you do eat of your own volition—you exercise what little willpower you have, pitching fits during mealtimes.

Secretly, he finds it endearing.

“It’s important that you’re healthy and strong; I want us to spend the rest of our long, happy lives together,” he implores as you eye the food suspiciously.

Fresh apple, carrot, and celery—all sliced into small, bite-sized cubes. It’s how you would prepare food for a toddler to prevent them from choking.

Indignantly, you turn your nose up at his offering, the sight of it making you nauseous. “This is rabbit food,” you spit. “And I’m not your fucking child. I don’t even want to be here.”

“You don’t mean that,” he states with finality.

Refusing to ask for the thousandth time why it has to be you sitting here in his care, you dejectedly open your mouth, allowing him to feed you a tiny piece of carrot.

As you crunch and grind the morsel into a pulp, the sweet, earthy flavor coats your tastebuds. You can’t help but wonder: What good will all these vegetables do if I never see the light of day again?)

Yuuta leans over the bedside, chilly fingertips unfurling around your neck. He slowly brings his lips to your forehead and pauses, testing your temperature—normal.

After he leans back, he speaks. “What are these tears for, my love? They hurt my heart.”

Tender lips sweep away a dewdrop that slides down your cheek; you hadn’t realized you were crying. Under his intense appraisal, you feel small. You feel fragile. You feel safe.

“I missed you, Yuuta-sama,” is all you manage to utter.

At your admission, the fingers on your neck tighten imperceptibly. His thumb strokes your jugular—featherlight. “Oh, my poor bunny,” he sighs, dropping his head to nuzzle the sensitive spot beneath your ear. “I’ve made you suffer.”

Wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, you protest, “Please don’t say that, Yuuta-sama. It’s my fault…I’m too needy.”

I missed my sun.

Looking up at you from beneath a curtain of ink, he tsks, nose skating along the curve of your jaw. “No, you aren’t. You’re perfect. My precious—” you gasp when he nips at your pulse point “—most perfect love. There’s nothing I’d rather do than be with you all day every day, endlessly adoring you.”

With a pout, you mumble, “Then why don’t you?”

“You know I have to work to protect you.”

Every bit his spoiled pet, your voice wobbles. “I wish you never had to leave.”

“One day I won’t,” he soothes, dotting a kiss to your cupid’s bow. “But until then, we have to enjoy every moment we have together—right?”

“Mhmm.”

For a few breaths, you lapse into syrupy silence. Your fingers weave through the hair at his nape; his head tucks beneath your chin, his balmy exhales tethering you to the present.

When he withdraws, something like a promise glints in his eyes. Your stomach flips. “Will you allow me to help you feel better?”

Sniffling, you nod, and sit up. The blanket slips down your shoulders, revealing the swell of your breasts. While your room is always an optimal temperature, you’re warmer now that you have relished Yuuta’s sunlight—revitalized.

He sweeps a hand through your hair, and you lean into the calming pressure of his touch. His lips curl into a fond smile. “Up, bunny.”

Without hesitation, you obey, leaving the cosy nest of your bed to stand on the cold concrete. No longer wrapped in linens, your nude form is on display. Yuuta’s lapis gaze sweeps over every sliver of your flesh, ears to soles.

Once, his inspections—both visual and physical—made you cower in humiliation and bristle with anger. Now you preen, your lovely features a placid lake. But a storm stirs the glassy surface as you shuffle awkwardly, suddenly aware of how overfull your bladder is.

Seemingly omnipotent, Yuuta’s hand grazes your belly. “Do you have to pee? You had a lot of water to drink while I was away.”

You grimace. “I do, Yuuta-sama.”

“Let’s get you taken care of.”

Reaching out to grasp your hand, he leads you straight to the bathroom, a pristine pee pad already laid out on the tile. While you know what comes next, you await his orders like an obedient pet, fidgety with expectation.

He caresses your head. “Situate yourself, okay?”

Wordlessly, you drop to the floor. Embarrassment prickles your flesh as you lean back on the palms of your hands, balancing on your tiptoes, legs spread wide apart. Your hips jut out, presenting your slick, needy cunt to Yuuta. He towers above you in this position, irises an oil spill—unfathomable in their iridescent depths.

Shame leaves you in waves and lust takes its place, blurring the edges of all your senses. You look up at his handsome face through drooping eyelashes and swallow the urge to whimper; your clit throbs in wanton need. A sparkling bead of desire drips from your hole, rolling down the cleft of your ass.

Returning to your side, he kneels behind you. His gravity is reassuring. You nearly dribble when he hums, encouraging, “Go on, bunny.”

The dam bursts.

A small stream shoots out of you, experimentally, before a steady jet arcs through the air and hotly puddles on the pad. Head cottony with clouds of relief, your limbs feel heavy yet unmoored—a bee drowning in its own honey. Unbidden, a gasp escapes you, luring Yuuta’s pointer and middle fingers to your petal-soft lips. A flash of slick pink, you accept them inside with a sloppy, wet suck, diligently laving each digit.

Perhaps you could survive on the salt of his skin.

“Such a good bunny,” he coos.

You frown when his fingers pop out of your mouth, but your pathetic whine turns into a shriek as he begins to rub slippery circles on your swollen clit, your piss spraying everywhere. While your flow ebbs to a trickle, the insistent pressure on your bundle of nerves continues. A flower scorched by the sun’s rays, you wilt against Yuuta, inhaling the familiar smell of his detergent.

“Y-Yuu—tah—s…s-ama!” Buzzing like a live wire, a jolt of electricity skitters down your spine.

“Gonna cum? Let go, sweetness. Show me how pretty you are when you just let go.”

A beast of an orgasm ravages your body, tearing its way out of your lungs and core, clear liquid spurting out of you. Only the whites of your eyes are visible as you scream, hips wildly bucking. You soon crumple beneath the weight of your climax onto the sodden pad, the aftershocks tingling through your extremeties, pussy unbearably empty.

Beaming, Yuuta proceeds to suck his dripping fingers clean, his groan stoking your pride. “You did so well.”

Pulse thundering in your ears from the intensity of your high, you shudder, twisting your fists into the fabric of his slacks—an attempt to ground yourself.

“May I have a taste?” Yuuta asks sweetly, maneuvering around you before your leaden tongue can string together a response. He lies between your quivering, piss-splattered thighs, uncaring of the urine that seeps through his dress shirt and pants.

“You’re so messy, bunny,” he teases, breath curling deliciously against your heat; you warble, clenching in anticipation. “Don’t worry—I’ll clean you up.”

He fondles your pubic hair with both hands, smearing a kiss on your mons. Thumbs gliding down, he gently spreads your labia, exposing your still-aching clit. The tip of his nose grazes the delicate tissue, forcing a squeal from you. But it’s as though your reactions don’t reach him—he’s so entranced. He sniffs deeply.

“Beautiful…” he whispers, ardent as a prayer.

Unhurried, he licks a searing stripe from your ass to your tender bud. The sound you make is premature—guttural and half-formed, a hideous thing. But it’s Yuuta’s favorite hymn.

After repeating the silken motion until he has thoroughly savored the tang of your cunt, he settles in and laves at your drooling hole, lapping up your juices. Never keen on making you suffer, though, he soon kisses his way up to where you need him most, bumping his nose against your clit before latching on with a firm suck.

The simmering warmth in both your bladder and your womb rekindle into roaring flames, the smoke signaling your inevitable climax. You thrash and wail and yank at Yuuta’s hair, speech reduced to nonsensical babbles as he switches between suckling your clit and tugging your folds. In a final act of torment, he slides two lithe digits inside you, crooking them upward, plucking the pleasure from your innermost place.

“G—otta, n-nngh…go,” is all the warning you manage before you crest.

You piss again, hurtling right into your second orgasm. Yuuta suctions his mouth to your sex, greedily guzzling the mixture of fluids—cum, slick, and urine—until you’re dry. As he parts from your pussy, a silvery thread still connects you; it pulls taut, then snaps. Yuuta’s smile and praise lulls you to sleep.

The sun is smiling at me.

It takes nearly half an hour for you to regain consciousness.

Ever efficient, Yuuta cleans the bathroom and washes you both before you rouse. When you wake, your limbs are entwined with his, face buried in his strong chest. Despite feeling physically and emotionally drained, you purr, bathing in his attention.

“There’s my bunny. Will you sit up for me?” Without waiting for you to move, he pulls you onto his lap so that you face him; you try to ignore the way his bare cock rubs against you. “We need to get you hydrated—yeah, that’s it, baby. Drink it all. Good, good.” He holds the glass for you as you chug its contents, stray droplets dribbling down your chin. Keen on pleasing him, you finish it without complaint, ignoring your stomach’s protests. “Perfect.”

He wipes the excess water away, a mother tidying her child. No longer able to neglect the hardening length against your ass, you rock your hips, pulling an airy laugh from Yuuta.

“So greedy,” he murmurs, massaging the fat of your thighs. “Does my bunny need their tail?”

Shyly, you nod, lips parting as a single fingertip grazes your tight rim.

Yuuta doesn’t need to ask for permission. You would do anything for him, even if it meant your ruin. He’s your savior—your everlasting sun; simply being in his presence is more than enough.

And if you’re bound to get burned? At least you’ll be eternally his.

#i’m very nervy to post this :’-)#it got to the point where i hated how everything sounded and flowed so i’m sending it into the universe and hoping for the best #whatever you do: PLEASE MIND THE TAGS!#— from the desk of #— okkotsu yuuta #— jujutsu kaisen #— beautiful torment #yuuta x reader #yuta x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #okkotsu yuta x reader #cw dark content #cw dead dove

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