Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1702457.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      ノラガミ_|_Noragami
  Relationship:
      Yato/Yukine, onesided_Yukine/Hiyori
  Character:
      Yato_(Noragami), Yukine_(Noragami)
  Additional Tags:
      Crossdressing, Mirror_Sex, Fantasizing, shared_thoughts, Dirty_Thoughts,
      Anal_Sex, Anal_Fingering, Hair-pulling, revised_fic_as_well_as_edited
      summary
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-05-28 Words: 3493
****** Skirt ******
by yattone_(vanroku)
Summary
     To stave off his boredom, Yukine decided to distract himself with
     cleaning.
     That's when he came across it: a box, long forgotten, covered in
     dust.
     When he stared down at the neatly folded clothing inside, he grew
     curious.
Notes
     edited: December 24, 2014
     note: added details that makes it seem a little less abrupt and
     rushed
     edit2: i cant believe this has 600+ kudos yall are sinners just like
     me
Boredom had struck him; with Yato out doing idiotic things only he could
justify and Kofuku and Daikoku nowhere to be found, he was home alone and it
was wearing down on him. With no material possessions to distract himself with
– all having been left at Hiyori's home – Yukine was left with nothing else to
do but tidy up the home the God of Poverty had opened to him and Yato.
While cleaning had never been his favorite thing to do, he was truly desperate
for a distraction, which is why, when he found a long-forgotten box simply
labeled ‘clothes’ he decided to investigate – he blamed Yato’s penchant for
‘thrift shopping’. It was among a pile of boxes that looked like they hadn’t
been touched in years, Kofuku most likely would never even notice.
Despite the layer of dust on the box, the materials inside were untouched,
edges crisp where they were folded, lace trims intact and pleats still
cascading. There were shades of pinks and lilacs, stark whites sandwiched
between, a mess of pastels that should look repulsive but only made him tilt
his head.
When he stared down at the neatly folded fabrics, he grew curious.
Images flash through his mind’s eye. Fabric pulled taut over mounds of flesh,
loose on curves, draped like curtains over thighs. He allows himself the
decency of some embarrassment at the thoughts, allows his cheeks to burn
momentarily. His mind races and he can feel the sudden and telltale twitch of
arousal. The fabric in his hands wrinkles slightly when his eyes fall to the
floor in a trance.
All he could picture was Hiyori in these, the gravity of pleats as she bends at
the waist or folds that form when she moves a certain way. He can imagine her
admiring herself in a mirror, posing different ways, giggling – and then an
idea dawns upon him.
He glances to the mirror across the room, down to the hardness in his jeans.
He moves to lock the door, not wanting anyone to walk in on him despite being
home alone, and he strips. His clothes hit the floor and he stares hard at his
mark, a stain on his chest, and he pulls a pink cardigan on, buttoning it so
his mark is now covered. He leaves the top and bottom two buttons unbuttoned
and pulls on a pleated skirt, light pink in color and somewhat short in
retrospect with the way it reaches barely halfway down his thighs. He finishes
the outfit with white stockings that end just a few inches up his thighs,
leaving a gap between them and the skirt, and he stares into the mirror,
blushing lightly. The cardigan hangs off his right shoulder, the sleeves
reaching almost to the tips of his fingers. He’s embarrassed by how large it is
on him, but it’s then he realizes how thin he is, how delicate he looks. He’s
almost feminine.
His cheeks darken; the tips of his ears follow suit.
He stares into the mirror. He feels something stir within him. Something
dangerous.
He slowly kneels in front of the mirror, knees spread slightly and legs tucked
beneath him and leans back on one hand.
He closes his eyes and imagines her long hair, beautiful as it cascades down
her shoulders in waves like water over stones, gently moving over the curve of
her shoulders. Her cheeks are pink, like roses opening beneath each pale cheek.
She stares at him with curiosity in her eyes and he bites his lips because it’s
wrong.
He opens his eyes and stares into the mirror almost in a trance. He directs his
eyes to the beneath his chin; he can’t see his own face, it’ll ruin the spell.
He turns his body, imagining the light curves belonged to Hiyori. The places
where the cardigan creases against his twisted body belong to Hiyori. She
looked beautiful.
He blushes, staring at his body into the mirror, focusing on where is hips jut
out slightly. He curves his spine backwards, angles his hips back and bites his
lip. God, he wants her. He wants to touch her.
He’s harder now, he smooths down the front of his skirt in an attempt to hide
it. He closes his eyes, and imagines her laid out before him, asking sweetly,
begging for him, and he—
Yato appears in the room suddenly and loudly, Yukine’s name on his mouth in a
scream. However, when his eyes fall onto the blond, it falls just short as his
mouth hangs open.
Yukine’s erection pokes at his skirt in a vulgar way, his hand smooths over the
pleated material once again as he tries to hide his shame, but Yato knows what
he’s hiding. He’s been getting the images all for quite a while now.
“Yukine…” he begins, and a smirk forms on his lips. “Are you so sexually
frustrated that you’ve begun dressing up just so you can get off?”
“Pervert, get out—”
“That’s not what your libido wants,” Yato says and he approaches Yukine, who
turns, backing away from the god, his head hitting the mirror, messy hair
pressing hard against it as if he could pass through and escape the
embarrassment.
“Sh-shut up,” the Yukine stutters and he turns his head away as Yato kneels
before him, face moving close to him.
“Dirty boy,” Yato whispers into the blond’s ear as he moves a hand up his
thigh. “I can see everything you’re imagining right now.”
Yukine’s face burns. “Yeah,” he murmurs, challenging him, “well, what am I
thinking?”
“You really want to get off.”
Yukine glares at him out of the corner of his eye. “That’s pretty obvious.”
Yato’s eyes are mischievous. “Well,” he smiles, “right now you want me to suck
your cock.”
“Then do it.”
Yato snickers and moves down, lying down beneath the blond’s parted legs. He
hooks one leg over his shoulder.
Yato spreads Yukine’s left leg, pressing his fingers into the fleshy and milky
white skin of his thighs. He slips his thumb beneath the stocking, rubbing at
the skin lightly, knowing the blond was most likely going to have five neat,
circular bruises. The blond’s thighs are trembling in anticipation; Yato can
feel the leg hooked onto his shoulder twitch lightly. All the while Yukine
bites his lip, staring down at him with a flush blooming bright beneath the
skin of his cheeks. “You better watch your mouth,” he whispers.
“J-just get on with it,” Yukine stutters.
Yato allows a small, smug smile before he mouths at the underside of the
blond’s cock. His tongue swipes around the side, moistening the flushed skin
with his saliva. He trails his tongue, flat, up the thin vein to the tip, and
Yukine’s back arches lightly, moving his cock down onto Yato’s tongue.
“N-no teasing,” he says quietly.
Yato quirks an eyebrow and closes his mouth around him, sucks on the head.
Yukine gasps, struggles, attempts to close his legs as the sensation overwhelms
him. Yato’s hands press hard into his skin, one holding his left thigh open
while the other holds his right thigh against his shoulder. The blond’s back
arches, his palms rub against the floor and his fingers scrape at the wood,
it’s too much. All the while Yato’s mouth is back to the tip of the blond’s
cock, his tongue teasing the head idly as he takes in the boy’s struggle with
his sharp eyes. It’s amusing, knowing that he’s reacting so violently to his
first blowjob, spread open for his eyes to see.  
Yato moves his mouth now, hollowing his cheeks and bobbing his head on the
relatively small length, his ears filled with the blond’s keening as he
attempts to catch up.
Yukine moves his hand to his mouth, muffling his moans as Yato takes him to the
throat, pulling off and repeating, once, twice, moaning lightly when thin,
nimble fingers tangle into the long strands of his hair.
“Y-Yato—”
“Hmm?” Yato hums, mouth once against around the head, sucking in a way that
makes Yukine’s mind go blank.
“D-don’t talk with—”
“You’re going to come,” Yato hums, finally pulling off his cock. He stares up
at the mess above him, the writhing form of his shinki.
Yukine pulls hard on Yato’s hair, attempting to push him back down onto his
cock. The god snickers, sinks back down onto him like it’s a game, keeps the
boy on the end of his tongue, wraps his hand around his base and pumps him. It
takes only a moment, just three quick pumps, before the blond comes, moaning
and twisting his fingers hard in Yato’s hair. His back arches, his thighs
tremble, he can’t take the fact that his cum is in the god’s mouth.
Yato’s tongue swipes over his sensitive head, his tongue curls up slightly and
he opens his mouth, and suddenly Yukine’s eyes are fixated onto the pink
muscle.
Yukine’s cum on Yato’s tongue is vulgar, sexy. The way he brings his fingers to
swipe over the creamy substance promises more than Yukine could bargain for.
His fingers drip with cum and saliva, those fingers are going somewhere Yukine
doesn’t know. His breath is quick and his heart is racing, trying to calm down
but not quite able to, not with this much anticipation.
 “I’m going to show you, and then I want you to do it by yourself,” Yato
whispers into his ear, and shivers race down the blond’s spine, chasing his
blood that’s racing back down to his cock. He’ll be hard again in no time if
Yato keeps acting this way.
Yato leans up between the blond’s thighs, moves his right hand to hold join
Yukine’s in holding himself up. Yukine’s right leg is pushed up against his
stomach, the skirt he was wearing now bunched up and long forgotten. Yato moves
to his knees, slides Yukine’s right leg to his forearm where he holds it tight
against his body now, and his left hand is between his legs.
“What—”
“Open up for me Yuki,” he says in a sensual whisper, like liquor and
honey—bitter and sweet. Yukine gasps, his vermillion eyes widening as Yato’s
fingers rub against his hole.
“Yato—!”
 The god’s mouth presses against Yukine’s, firm and distracting. His lips move
against the blond’s, he sucks at his lip and nips at the thin skin. Yukine is
feverish in response, making up for his lack in talent with enthusiasm. When
Yato’s middle finger dips into him he jolts, a small whine rising in his
throat. He shuts his eyes tightly, feeling the god’s tongue swipe against his
paralyzed lips as his finger pushes in, out, in. To the knuckle, Yato curves
his finger, as if searching for something. He wiggles it, and the feeling is
strange until Yukine feels something stir, a spark of light pleasure that
surprises him almost. The fingers he has curled into the material of the god’s
tracksuit tighten, holding almost desperately against his shoulder as the spot
is rubbed again.
A breathless gasp as his lips break away, “Th-there—”
Yato moves his lips down the blond’s pale throat, kisses heated and wet. The
blond’s back arches and he whines, the stimulation too much for him. It’s then
that Yato pushes in a second finger, and the stretch hurts, much more than the
first did, of course. It’s a sharp sting, and Yukine grits his teeth, closes
his eyes tightly and grunts.
The god’s teeth nip at his neck, the pain sharp like a knife, and he hisses,
the feeling melting into his blood and fueling his fire.
The fingers moving in and out of him are a little smoother, Yato’s fingers
pressing against his prostate causing sparks to race up his spine and jolts of
electricity to run through his brain. His thighs are shaking and he’s clinging
tight to the god’s tracksuit. He moans softly, muffled against the god’s mouth,
each movement from his fingers sweet and pulling the sound through his vocal
chords. However, it’s short lived, Yato has plans for him.
“Turn over and get on your knees,” Yato commands, his tongue leaving one last
lick to Yukine’s top lip before moving back, leaning onto one hand as he
watched the blond hesitate only slightly before complying. “Now I want you to
bend over—get on your elbows.”
The position was vulgar, Yukine felt embarrassed moving into it.
“Spread your legs.”
“Y-Yato—”
“I want you to do what I did to you.”
“You want me to finger myself?”
Yato smiles, a mischievous grin that’s aimed at the mirror, where he knew
Yukine kept glancing. “Yeah.”
When Yukine moves his hand between his legs, he falters. He can’t balance on
one hand, not when he’s like this, and that’s when he decides to move his other
arm.
Yukine rests chin is on the hard, wood floor, his ass in the air and his knees
spread wide. One hand is between his legs, shoving fingers into his hole, as
per his god’s request. There’s still his cum there, and the slickness is enough
to make his cock twitch. It’s dirty.
He pushes two fingers inside of himself and they slide in, and the feeling is
foreign and he moans quietly. He moves his right arm to his face, resting his
chin onto it as he pushes in deep, slides out, pushes in once again.
“Good,” Yato says and Yukine bites out a quiet and sharp ‘shut up’.
The foreign feeling gives way, soon there’s a dull pleasure sparking where the
tips of his fingers touch at their deepest. He moans, closing his eyes and
burying his face into the crook of his arm. “H-how many do you want?”
“Three.”
Yukine’s light gasp is audible in the quiet of the room, hesitantly he pokes in
his ring finger, and the stretch hurts a little, and he keens slightly. The
thrusting of his fingers into himself becomes a bit awkward, however in only a
moment there’s more pleasure in the movements. The slickness of his cum is
still there, it makes his fingers smooth, just a little.
“Show me, I want to see.”
“Pervert.”
“I walked in on you in a skirt,” Yato laughs, “so who’s the real pervert here?”
After a moment he adds. “I know how you want it, don’t pretend Yukine.”  Yukine
moans quietly in response, his fingers pressing against his prostate, and he
drowns himself in it, his thighs shaking with each selfish movement of his
fingers.
“That’s enough,” Yato says and he pulls the blond’s hand away, pinning it to
the floor. With his other hand he pulls his pants down, pulling out his cock
and pumping it once, twice, three times, staring hard at Yukine’s ass as he
bites his lip. “You better hope you came enough to make this not hurt.”
“Shut u—”
Yato’s cock pushes into him, cutting him off. He groans into the floor as he
claws at the wood, the burn of a cock pushing into him enough to rattle his
lungs with shaky breaths. He almost bucks into the floor, but Yato’s hand is
now fixed on his hip, holding his hip bone in a bruising grip as he presses his
hips flush against his ass. The pain is dull, at this point Yukine wants to beg
for it.
“Y-Yato—”
The god fists his fingers into the back of the blond’s head, his arm locking
and his hand pulling at the hair as he pulls out, pushes back in. Yukine nearly
screams, the pain in his skull sharp and the pleasure in his spine dull. Each
strand of hair burns, the pain goes straight to his cock.
Yato pulls out, pushes back in, the pain isn’t as evident now but the blond can
still feel it. The hand in his hair is tight, it’s too much.
Yukine gasps as Yato thrusts in and out of him now, his skin smacking loudly
against the blond’s ass, and for a moment that’s all that can be heard in the
room before Yukine begins to moan with each thrust. Skin slapping skin,
Yukine’s moans, Yato never knew how wonderful those two things would sound in
unison.
Yukine’s moans are loud against the floor, they stab into Yato’s brain and he
can see in his mind’s eye, can see all the dirty things Yukine wants him to do
to him. Yato sees hands forcing the back of blond hair into a mattress, can see
bare shoulders pinned high to a wall, tongues pressed to teeth and hips flush
against one another. The dirty thoughts come rushing at him and he moans,
snapping his hips against his Regalia’s, hard and fast. There’s a pain in the
back of his neck that drives him harder, faster, he sees white, Yukine’s mind
is muddled.
“You like that, don’t you?” Yato growls, and he quickens his pace before
slowing, agonizingly slow and teasing. He rides him slow and deep and Yukine’s
moans spill out of his mouth against his will. He buries his forehead into the
crook of his elbow and moans into the floor. He nods, it’s too much; he can’t
take it.
Yato wraps an arm around Yukine’s waist, pulling him up forcefully to his
knees, his hips continuing their brutal pace on his body. The angle is new, the
blond leans back into the god, arches his back and rests his head onto his
shoulder. His voice heightens in pitch and it tastes sweet in the air, hanging
like smoke in the room and making the god’s mind swim.
Yato’s hand covers Yukine’s mouth; he nestles his chin in the juncture between
the blond’s shoulder and throat as he stares at both of them in the mirror.
Yukine’s cheeks are burning red, the pink cardigan he is wearing is falling off
one shoulder, his cock is poking up from beneath the bunched hem skirt and his
body is moving with each thrust the god aims into him. His loud moans are
muffled; Yato turns to whisper into his ear. “Do you want to scream for me?” he
says, and Yukine’s back arches, his jaw tilts back and his throat is exposed.
He wants to nod, but he has enough pride not to. Not this.
Yato’s right hand slides up the pink cardigan Yukine had slipped on over bare
skin, his fingers brushing at the blond’s nipples and making him hum pleasure
into the palm of his hand. He rubs his thumb on the nub, turns back to scratch
at it, stimulates the shinki until he’s shaking before the mirror.
“Look how pretty you look,” Yato breathes into his ear. “Like a pretty little
whore.” His mouth is close; Yukine can hear his ragged breathing.
He could have retaliated, called the God something nasty as well, but the words
don’t come, he wants to be called these things. Instead, Yukine moans loud
enough to make his clenched teeth vibrate.
“I want you to watch yourself.”
Fingers push themselves into Yukine’s mouth, pushes down onto his tongue, and
his bleary eyes open. He sees a completely wrecked version of himself in the
mirror with a cardigan falling down one shoulder, a hiked up skirt, messy blond
hair, and bleary eyes. He’s a foot from the mirror, he can see tears forming in
his eyes, and he can’t believe that he’s going to cry. He can’t.
However, when Yato aims a particularly hard thrust into him, he shuts his eyes
in reflex, feeling wetness slide down his cheek. He moans and it’s loud and
guttural with Yato’s fingers in his mouth. He moves his hand to his cock,
pumping with each thrust into him.
Yukine comes, splattering onto the mirror, keening and reaching back to clutch
at Yato’s hair with clenched fingers. As he shakes, Yato continues to thrust
into him relentlessly. Yukine mewls with each thrust, sensitive from his orgasm
but Yato showing no intent of stopping. When Yato comes, it’s inside of the
blond, holding him tight around his waist.  He shudders into him, biting onto
his shoulder.
Yukine falls forward, leans against the mirror on the wall. Yato is still glued
to him, panting hard as he pulls out. Yukine whimpers, feeling cum as it slides
out of him, dripping viscously onto the floor.
The marks on Yukine’s throat and shoulders are angry and red, Yato’s eyes are
drawn to them as he leans back, placing a hand on either side of the blond
against the mirror. There is no way to explain these, and he hopes that Hiyori
doesn’t ask about them if she were to see them.
Suddenly, another thought flits through his head, one that does not belong to
him. He glances down at Yukine, who is seated on the floor now, and he smirks.
“As much as I’d like to go again,” Yato says, “you’re gonna have to wait a
little.”  
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