Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11021913.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Persona_5
  Relationship:
      Kitagawa_Yusuke/Madarame_Ichiryusai
  Character:
      Kitagawa_Yusuke, Madarame_Ichiryusai, Kurusu_Akira
  Additional Tags:
      implied_akira/yusuke, shadow!madarame, Dream_Sex, Wet_Dream
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-05-28 Words: 1712
****** Subconscious ******
by ronniedoll
Summary
     Yusuke has become quite fond of Akira, and enjoys his time with him.
     However, Madarame's shadow still creeps his way into Yusuke's art,
     dreams, and mouth.
Notes
     I wrote this in one sitting and it's a little rushed, I just really
     wanted Shadow Madarame to touch my favorite Phantom Thief~
Yusuke felt the trails of friendly laughter leaving his throat and ears as
Akira waved him goodbye at the station. They had spent a pleasant afternoon
together at Leblanc; hot coffee, reading, listening to music, and chatting. It
was an admittedly simple and unexciting pastime they shared on occasion (more
and more often now), but Yusuke had come to really enjoy such simple pleasures
with his friend.
But now, as Akira disappeared into the Shibuya station crowd, Yusuke was again
left alone. He felt a twinge of sadness in his heart, but only for a moment. “I
will have time to draft some paintings once I’m back at my dorm, after all,”
Yusuke said to himself after a sigh. He had gathered some inspiration from his
time spent with Akira, but he knew not exactly what had spurred it. Perhaps, he
thought with a slight blush, it was just gazing upon Akira himself that struck
a chord in Yusuke’s heart.
Quickly, Yusuke made for the proper train platform and readied himself for
home.
-.-
With romance in his heart, Yusuke’s inspiration flowed spectacularly through
his fingertips. Page after page of sketched forms, composed into a mass of
lovingly lean bodies and serene faces, passed under his pencils. Even with his
noisy neighbors upstairs, Yusuke wasn't deterred from his craft, and spent
hours just drawing in peace and content. Each form came from him as naturally
as rain from clouds, without thought or worry; his eraser remained on the
corner of his desk, quiet and unused.
Before Yusuke knew it, a glance at his clock told him it was half past nine.
“Oh! I really should be getting to bed, we might be going to Kaneshiro’s palace
tomorrow..” Yusuke set his pencil down and wiped some fringe from his face,
flipping through the pages of his sketchbook to review the work he had created.
He uncapped a blue pen, leaving small blue stars next to the forms he would
like to recreate with paint. All of which, he realized, were undeniably born
from thoughts of Akira’s lean, beautiful body. Yusuke bit his lip and smiled,
chuckling a little. “I really have fallen for Joker, haven’t I?” Yusuke laughed
to himself again, flipping to the most recently used page in his sketchbook.
His dark colored eyes scanned the page for particularly interesting forms,
marking a couple of them before his eyes landed on something that didn’t match
the rest. He didn’t recall drawing this one at all; it must have come out of
him just as silently as all the rest. It was a detailed sketch of an older
gentleman in a sort of modern shogun attire, standing alone in the corner of
the page. There were no details in the face, but Yusuke knew who it was without
having to think about it.
Yusuke felt his stomach churn. He closed his sketchbook, capped his pen, and
stood up from his desk. A concerned look fell heavy on his face, and Yusuke
began getting ready for bed.
As he discarded his casual daywear, Yusuke wondered why he had decided to draw
his sensei, amongst all of those images of Akira. Akira was so good to him, but
Madarame… He slipped a large, loose scoop-neck over his head, eyebrows
furrowed. “This is troubling…” He passed by the mirror in his room on the way
to his futon and stopped there, making eye contact with himself for a reason he
wasn’t certain of. He took in the details of his own face; his long, slim jaw,
his pale skin, his gentle eyes…
Yusuke sighed and flipped the light off, retiring to his futon. His troubled
thoughts kept him awake for a while, but the exhaust of the day was enough to
eventually lure him into a sleep.
-.-.-
The first thing Yusuke saw was nothing but a sea of gleaming, swirling gold
that glittered of its own accord. It stirred like a hungry sea all around him,
taking on vague architectural forms, creating doorways and walls and columns.
There were no thoughts in his head for a collection of what felt like seconds
as the golden world built around him. Yusuke was not aware that he was asleep.
Yusuke did, however, eventually come to be aware of the fact that he was
standing. Yusuke touched at his face instinctively and felt the smooth material
of his mask meet his fingers. His foggy brain did not question why he was in
his Phantom Thief attire, nor why he was in some sort of vague recreation of
Madarame’s palace. He simply accepted it, and looked about, adjusting the
fingers of his blue gloves. Yusuke did wonder briefly why he was alone here,
but the question was so faint in the recesses of his mind that he hardly
registered its existence.
He was in a large, open room of the palace, and before him stretched a long
hallway ending in a gaudily painted door. Without thought, Yusuke began walking
down the hallway, silently, keeping his body ducked low as if sneaking. Like
magic, the door seemed to come towards him as well, and the distance between
Yusuke and the door quickly closed.
The door opened as soon as he stood before it, and its contents brought
Yusuke’s consciousness forward with a start. Not only was Shadow Madarame
sitting before him on a sort of glittering throne, he was surrounded by
countless shelves and easels displaying the “true” Sayuri. Yusuke’s heart rate
spiked, and he grabbed at his head with one hand, unable to understand what it
was he was looking at. Suddenly, Yusuke was at the feet of his former sensei,
out of control of his body and how it lay like a feast. It was as if no time
had passed, and the door to this room was gone. Yusuke was trapped.
“Oh, Yusuke,” Shadow Madarame’s voice echoed in his brain and Yusuke felt his
stomach heave slightly. He tried to get up from the ground but found that he
indeed could not move on his own accord. A panicked feeling spread through him,
starting from his stomach and expanding through his appendages. “You still
think of me even after all this time. Even when you’re with someone good for
you, your heart beats only for me, isn’t that right, Yusuke?”
Madarame stood, his gleaming yellow eyes even more piercing than the gold of
his robes. Yusuke lay pathetically at his feet, able only to move his eyes and
open his mouth. Even then, nothing but soft gasps came from him, sounds unable
to be formed as words.
The hand of his former sensei grabbed Yusuke’s wrist, hefting him up onto his
knees; the other hand found Yusuke’s glossy hair, and pulled. Yusuke gasped,
glaring upwards at Shadow Madarame. He wanted to slap his hand away, he wanted
to say no, he wanted to leave this place…!
“Yusuke,” Madarame mumbled, sneering as he released Yusuke to undress his
robes, “you aren’t fighting. I have to say I’m surprised.” Yusuke felt
something like despair or fear grip his heart as his face was shoved towards
his former master’s leaking cock. “Oh, Yusuke… My sweet little boy. You always
had such a beautiful face. Take off your mask so I can see you better.”
Unable to stop himself from doing it, Yusuke pulled the kitsune mask from his
face and tossed it to the ground. As if watching himself in a movie, he saw his
body adjust itself to be in a more comfortable way on its knees, watched
himself toss his head to the side and lean in to give Madarame’s cock a
lingering kiss. Mortified at the feeling of Madarame’s head pressed to his own
lips, Yusuke turned his wide eyes upwards once again to meet his master.
None of this made sense. Yusuke helplessly fought against his own body’s
movements, as if there was another part of him making all the decisions. He
wanted to cry when he felt the heat of sensei’s cock fill his mouth and tap at
his throat, but could do nothing about it. The feeling of Madarame’s hand on
his head disgusted him almost as much, but his head rose to meet the hand as if
desperate.
“Ah… What a good boy… You’re still so good at this. Perhaps you aren’t useless
to me after all…” The cruel tone in Madarame’s voice made him want to bite down
hard, but instead he felt a heat spreading in his groin and with horror
realized that his body was responding to this filthy act.
‘Please!’ Yusuke begged himself mentally to stop swallowing Shadow Madarame’s
meaty cock, but was met only with his own hand rubbing against the tight latex
over his erection. All Yusuke could do was close his eyes and try not to
acknowledge how good it was beginning to feel, how…
Yusuke popped his mouth off of Madarame’s cock to moan, tossing his head back
slightly as his bony hips rolled forward against his own hand. His heartbeat
was like that of thundering hooves in his chest.
It was as if in the next second suddenly Yusuke’s latex onesie was fully
unzipped, revealing the pale porcelain of his lithe torso. He was on his back,
body rolling upwards into Madarame’s dutifull, wet kisses. Trails of red
lipstick smeared down the white canvas of his skin. Horrified, Yusuke listened
to the lewd noises spilling from his lips as Madarame molested him, but was
even more horrified when his mewls were silenced with a deep kiss.
Yusuke didn’t know how much time passed beneath Madarame’s shadow, but he felt
every kiss and touch and heard every moan. His own cock was incredibly
sensitive and the sensations were disgustingly good. His mind began to numb and
he fell into the puppeted movements of his own body, giving in to every roll of
his hips and to every moan that escaped him. He listened to the evil whispers
of his former sensei with horrific erotic interest, felt pleasure build in his
belly with every stroke of Madarame’s aged hands.
The last thing Yusuke remembered seeing was a sea of the Sayuri, framing the
outline of his master’s gyrating body, and he finally found it in himself to
cry.
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