honey-oak-recs

[honey-oak-recs]

MINORS DNI

WC: 3.3k

Warnings: Some jjk spoilers (jjk 0), fem reader, established relationship, use of “darling”, fingering (f. receiving), penetrative sex, then lots of angst. 

A/n: I hope you enjoy my first time writing my beloved Suguru. Also, a huge huge huge thanks to @shankedxspanked for beta reading this for me. I love you endlessly bestie <3 As always, reblogs are greatly appreciated

–

The sun warms your body, despite the chilly wind in the meadow. He’s usually late, so arriving early can be an annoyance, but the first sunny day of spring is exactly what you’ve been waiting for to spend a day out with Suguru. It’s not that you’re impatient with him, you just expect a certain level of respect. 

“Darling,” the sweet sound of Suguru’s voice makes your eyes flutter open. He’s blocking the sun from glaring down on you, illuminated from behind. “Thought you were asleep.” 

“I was trying to. You interrupted a very important daydream,” you tell him as you sit up and he takes his place to your left. 

He situates himself cross-legged and then pulls you into his lap, his arms holding you close against him. You nuzzle your face against him, taking in the scent of clove and pine. His robes feel soft against your skin, making you wonder if he feels too warm in the spring sun. 

“Tell me about this daydream, my darling girl.” He presses a kiss to the top of your forehead, just at your hairline. 

“Sorry, daydreams are meant for the dreamer.” You tell him, taking his larger hand in yours and pressing your lips to his knuckles one at a time. “And you’re not a dreamer.” 

He laughs, shaking his head. “I think you’ve forgotten exactly who I am.” 

You smile, looking up and taking in the amused look on his face. “That might be true. You’ve kept yourself so busy with work, I’ve barely seen you in the last few weeks.” 

His smile turns to a frown. Annoyance is clear in his expression. “I’m creating-” 

“The world in which we should live.” You finish the sentence for him, leaning back against his chest so you’re no longer looking at him. 

“Don’t be mad at me,” he whispers. “I’m doing this for us.” 

“Just eat the lunch I made you.” You snap, pointing at the picnic basket you ordered online last week just for today. 

“Darling,” he coos, but it feels more like a scolding. “We’ve been over this before.” He tilts your chin to look at him. 

His eyes are always so intense, but there’s a softness that wasn’t there before. You furrow your brows, unwilling to give in to him over this. While you have understood the place Suguru is coming from, the circumstances are becoming harder and harder to accept. 

“Make it up to me then,” you say, trying your best to hold back a smile. 

“I could set a vail and really make it up to you,” he squeezes your thigh with his free hand and your face heats up. 

“Oh?” You barely get the word out before he’s leaning down, still holding your chin in place while he kisses you. 

His lips are slow, the softness of them feeling like heaven on your lips. The taste of him is infatuating, overwhelming your senses and making you forget about anything that doesn’t have to do with him. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip before his teeth graze the delicate skin. 

You gasp as he bites down on your lip, his arms turning your body so you’re facing him. You oblige, straddling him and taking his face in your hands. Pieces of his hair get caught between your hands and his cheeks, tugging at them as you pull his face up to meet yours. He groans against your mouth at the feeling, making your knees shake. His hands grip your sides, squeezing you softly but pushing you down against him. 

Through his robes you can feel him, his cock prodding at you through his clothing. Dropping your hands from his face, you reach for his robes, untying what you can with his help and revealing his chest. He pulls away from you, pressing his finger to your lips and shushing the whine you started. 

"Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure.” He chants the words and you watch as the curtain falls around you both, circling you in the meadow. “Next time, I want you to set it.” 

You laugh and roll your eyes. Like that’ll happen. Suguru knows the limits to your curse techniques, something you’ve always found yourself feeling insecure about when you’re around him. He’s had to save you more times than you’d like to remember and it’s always been a shameful secret you’ve kept to yourself. 

“Thinking about something other than me?” He asks, drawing your attention back to him. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, dragging your right hand down his chest and to the abs that spread across his stomach. “Can you forgive me?” 

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, darling.” He tells you, a smirk on his pretty lips. “Now stop playing around with me and take that slutty little dress off for me.” 

You smile, but part of you is wondering if the dress is actually slutty. It’s just a normal pink sundress, but when you look down at yourself you see it pushed up around your waist and the straps falling off your shoulders. So maybe he has a point. You slip the dress off and toss it over near the picnic basket. 

Suguru leans forward, grabbing your breasts with both hands. “Much better,” he kisses the skin of your breasts pulling on your bra and freeing them. 

As his lips wrap around your right nipple you moan, his tongue swirling around and teasing you. He pulls you closer, reaching around you and unlatching your bra. It falls down your arms and Suguru tosses it to the side. You roll your hips, teasing him through his pants, earning a quiet groan from him. He mumbles something that sounds like “again” and you oblige. He switches to your other breast, giving your nipple the same attention as the last. 

“Sugu-“ you start to whine. 

“Shhh,” he hushes you as he unlatches from your breast. “Just enjoy the time we have together.” 

It’s so unlike him to want to be slow with you. The last few times you’ve been together it’s only been minutes before he’s tearing your clothes off of you and taking you in whatever position is convenient for where you are. Your eyes well up as you smile and nod. He kisses your cheeks and you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. 

He grabs your waist and spins you so you’re back against the picnic blanket and he’s hovering over you. “It’s such a waste to keep wearing these,” he tells you as he fools with the waistband of your panties. 

“I can’t go commando everywhere, babe,” you scold him and he laughs. 

“You should when you’re meeting me.” He says matter of factly before tearing them off of you. 

 “You also don’t need to tear them every time. They do slide on and off just fine.” You laugh as he drops the torn fabric onto the grass behind him. 

He shrugs, leaning down and kissing you again. His hand slides between your bodies as his fingers begin to tease your folds while his tongue floods your mouth. You savor the taste of him, slowly kissing him back and only taking breaths when absolutely necessary. 

His fingers finally land on your clit and slowly circle it, making you moan into his mouth. He slowly drags his fingers closer to your entrance. You whimper as you feel two of his fingers push into you, sending shivers down your spine. Your hands go for his back, your nails biting into his skin. He spreads his fingers, stretching you out as you moan. 

“Please,” you whimper. 

“You want my cock already?” He whispers, deadly calm. “I haven’t even tasted you yet, darling.” 

“I’ve missed you too much,” you beg, not concerned with foreplay, just needing him in you; him filling you up and you wrapping around him. “Just need you now.” 

He chuckles, pushing himself back up onto his knees. He uses one hand to push his hair back away from his face, his bicep flexing with the sun behind him. Everything about him is damn near ethereal, you realize. His movements are precise but fluid like he’s never lacked confidence for a moment. 

He slips his pants down his thighs, his boxers going with them. You’re always in awe of his figure, hardened and scarred from years of training and fighting. He hovers back over you, kissing your collarbone and neck as he lines himself up with you. You gasp as he slides into you, his cock stretching you out. 

“Suguru,” you whine, pulling his face to yours and kissing him softly as he begins to thrust slowly inside of you.

You can’t remember the last time you were intimate with Suguru. It’s been weeks. He’s been so busy you’ve only had chances to see him in a professional manner when given missions or to bring him lunch at the temple.  Your eyes well up and you feel the shame entering your body quicker than he did. 

Why are you crying? This is ridiculous. Your inner monologue berates you. 

“Darling,” Suguru coos, taking your face in his hand and stilling his movements inside of you. “Does it hurt?” 

“No, oh no.” You shake your head and blink the tears away. “I’ve just missed your touch.” 

He smiles, that genuine smile that’s soft and full of the Suguru only you and a few others have seen. 

–

The sky is clear, so clear you swear if you tried hard enough you’d be able to see the stars that exist just outside the expanse of the earth’s sky. It makes you want to laugh, considering your whole world exists here beside you, and none of what you see matters beyond him. 

You turn your head to look at Suguru, taking in his beautiful features. His eyes are closed, his cheeks still pink from the flush of your activities. Your breathing has finally settled and you’re just laying on the soft blanket, Suguru quietly laying beside you. 

“I forgot something,” you tell him, remembering the whole reason you planned this picnic, besides having him all to yourself for an afternoon. 

He sits up as you do, and you grab your pink sundress, pulling it back over your head. After, you grab the picnic basket, noticing that Suguru has begun to dress again, standing on the corner of the picnic blanket to tie his robes. He’s not paying you attention so it gives you time to sort the food out and spread it out. You find the small wrapped present in the bottom of the basket, hiding it behind you so Suguru doesn’t see it. 

“This looks divine,” he tells you as he sits on the blanket beside you. The spread of food is impressive, especially considering you’re not one to cook a whole lot. But today felt special so you made almost everything you know how to make to share with him. 

“Thank you,” you smile, your fingers fiddling with the present behind you. You wanted to wait until after you both ate to give him the gift, but you can’t now. “I have something for you.” 

He puts down the bowl of rice he’d begun to pick at. “A present?” A smirk on his face makes you smile. 

You bring it out from behind your back, presenting it to him. “It’s not much, but I wanted you to have a piece of me with you.” 

He smiles, opening the wrapped present and the small box it’s in. He holds up the silver chain necklace, tilting his head to look at the black charm dangling in the air from it. 

“It’s a replica of your cursed spirits, the orbs anyways.” You explain as he takes the orb into his hand. “I also imbued it with my own cursed energy to strengthen it so it won’t fall apart and it’ll be easy to locate if lost.” 

“I’d never lose this,” he tells you, his voice soft. He looks at you with those beautiful dark eyes, making your heart flutter. He leans closer to you, his fingers tilting your chin up towards him as he kisses you. “Thank you.” 

–

It’s funny how days turn to weeks and weeks turn to months. You haven’t so much as heard Suguru’s voice in a week, and you haven’t seen him since the day at the meadow. He’s texted… a few times. Mostly half-assed apologies that aren’t anything more than excuses. You’ve not responded to any of them, probably prompting the others to be sent. If he wants to hear from you he knows where you are. 

He’s busy, and it’s important that he focuses on his work. You should be focusing more on yours, to be quite honest. You’ve only located a handful of high-ranking curses in the last two months and haven’t bothered to report them to Suguru. 

Is it spiteful? Absolutely. 

Do you care? No. 

Reporting them would mean you’d have to go report to him and you decided the night after the meadow that you wanted him to try more. If he wants this to work then he needs to put work into it. Suguru could rest a little. This work is going to kill him if he doesn’t. 

A knock at the door drags your attention away from the reality show you’ve been mindlessly watching. Tossing the blanket off your legs, you slip on your fuzzy slippers and walk slowly to the door. As you open it, you sense who it is. 

“Darling,” Suguru greets you, leaning on the door frame. He’s in business clothes, something you’ve never seen before. The tight-fitting navy blue button-up really shows his arms and the white slacks continue to show off his toned body. 

“Hey,” you turn away, walking back into your living room to allow him in. 

“Just hey?” Annoyance is clear in his tone. 

“Hi Suguru,” you smile, knowing it will annoy him. 

“I thought you’d be happy to see me.” He says, his voice sounding a bit pouty. You wonder if that’s on purpose. 

“What do I owe the pleasure? I haven't seen you in nearly three months Suguru.” You sit on the couch, moving the blanket out of the way to the back of the couch so Suguru can sit if he wants. He doesn’t. 

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. “I’ve been busy.” 

“I know,” you huff, leaving back against the couch and looking up at the ceiling. “I just think you should make time for me.” 

Your voice comes out weak, and you want to cry. There’s no reason to want to cry or have your voice shaking like it is. He might think you’re too weak if he picks up on it. 

“Darling,” he coos, sitting next to you and taking your hands in his. “I am truly sorry for neglecting you. I promise after October, things can be normal for us.” 

“October?” You frown, that’s still months away. It’s just turning to summer. “That’s so long.” 

He tilts your face up to his. “It won’t feel that way. I’ll be around more, I promise.” 

He leans in to kiss you and you pull away. “Suguru, don’t.” 

He looks bewildered by this and you frown. “You’re just trying to distract me. You’re not even wearing the necklace I gave you. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” 

“I just took it off today.” 

“Like I believe that.” You scoff and move from the couch to head toward the kitchen. Once you’re at the fridge you pull out a bottle of chilled wine. “I can’t expect you to wear it I suppose.” 

He stands across from you on the other side of the counter. He frowns as he watches you down your first glass of wine and pours another.  

“I had an important meeting today so I couldn’t wear it. I needed to look like this.” He gestures to his clothes and you roll your eyes. “Don’t be like this,” he walks around the counter and takes the wine glass from your hand. 

He leans down, kissing your cool lips and pulling you towards him with his strong arms. 

“Suguru,” you whimper, his touch intoxicating. 

“Forgive me, please,” he asks as he kisses down your neck, sucking and biting every other kiss. 

You realize he’s doing it again, distracting you with the allure of sex like that day in the meadow and a few moments ago on the couch. 

“Please stop,” you whine pulling away from him. “You’re continuing to distract from our issues.” 

He leans back against the counter, his knuckles white from gripping it so tightly. “Why can’t you just understand that I can’t be here for you every day?” 

“I don’t need to see you every day but more than once every three months would be nice!” You yell, unable to control your temper. He stares at you. You’ve never reacted this way to him. “I’m sorry,” you retract immediately. 

“No, no, I needed to hear that.” He sighs and lets go of the counter. “If you can make it to October, I promise you things will be better. I swear on my life.” 

You nod, not saying anything other than, “October then.” 

– 

You see Suguru exactly four times from summer to October, but you let it go. After the month ends he’s sworn to you he’ll be more present. He’s even been wearing the necklace you gave him each time you’ve been together. While things with him aren’t perfect they’re manageable for now. With each day, you grow more and more excited. 

However, you know that with the plan for Halloween, things could be difficult in the immediate aftermath. Suguru has ordered you to be nowhere near the attack. Part of you wants to disobey, but the other part knows you need much more training with Suguru before you feel confident enough to go against any of the sorcerers.  

As the day nears, you stop looking for cursed spirits and focus your energy on ignoring the fact that he’s putting himself in danger. He’s kept a lot of the details secretive to avoid leaks, the only people who know anything are the ones participating, and of course what he’s divulged to those at Jujutsu High in Tokyo. 

That you didn’t understand, but his interest in that boy with the strong curse lingering around him has seemed to set him off into a tangent. You can’t even remember his name, you’ve blocked it out of your memory hoping nothing bad will happen to any of them. Your heart is still soft and while you know things could be better for everyone, you just wish the means were different. 

November 1st comes quicker than you expected, but you haven’t heard from anyone. It’s been unsettlingly quiet on all fronts. The morning passes by and you can’t even stomach a cup of coffee, anxiously awaiting to hear from Suguru. By noon, you assume he’s not coming by today so you decide it’s better to go find out information. 

You get dressed, dawning something comfortable but warm for the chilly days ahead. As you open your door, you’re frozen in place. A man with stark white hair and sunglasses is standing at your door, his hand raised as if he was about to knock. 

“Oh!” You exclaim. “I’m sorry,” 

“I believe this is yours. I’m sorry.” He hands you the necklace you gave Suguru. 

You stare up at him, a confused look on your face. Before you can form words to ask why he has it, he’s gone in the blink of an eye.

[honey-oak-recs]

a trick, a treat, a few tweaks later and i am proud to present...dragon suguru geto for @thefallen-firstborn! happy halloween and thank you for participating!

contains: NSFW, MDNI. fantasy au setting. dragon king!geto x afab!reader, piv sex, outdoor sex, use of pet names (love), size kink (he is a dragon man and does not fully revert to human and is thusly oversized)

The darkness of night envelops you where you stand, stone beneath your feet and curtains fluttering behind you from the open door. A sconce is the only light not provided by the moon, flame warming your body and the stone it sits against, but you wonder how much longer you can keep it burning for.

Where is Suguru? 

Usually the steady beat of wings can be heard across the skies by now, cracking across the night air and making the hair on your body stand on end. It’s your nightly ritual, one that you would hate to deviate from, and you wonder what could be keeping him. It’s late and the hours that continue to pass make you anxious, the moon’s changing position in the sky keeping you company while you lean against the stone railing of your balcony and wait.

The night grows thin, as does your patience, and you wonder when the stars will give way to the sunset. You yearn for him always - spending the day tucked away inside the library in the castle learning, wondering when at last the man whose secret only you know will return to your side. 

Suguru Geto is no mere man. He is a King, the leader of these lands you love and live in, and has an ancient birthright of power that has been a carefully kept secret since his youth. The man can shift into something far less human, winged and scaled and terrifying. 

You don’t think he’s more beautiful than when you see the remnants of his power across his skin, patches of scales across his chest and forearms. The most wonderful moments are after he has come home from battle, full of vigor and fire and ready to lay claim to the thing he loves having dominion over the most. 

Smiling wistfully and feeling heat flare through your stomach, you gaze across the horizon at the advancing morning and feel as though it’s time to try again another night. Perhaps the battle consumed your secret lover for a bit longer than either of you could have expected and you decide to accept that outcome, turning on your heel and letting your nightgown flutter behind you as you head back inside.

The steady beat of wings draws you back outside, feet stomping in time as you run across the threshold and watch his large body approach from a distance. You wonder how the whole village doesn’t arise at the mere sound of him but remember that none of them know this sound is their king returning from protecting them, fighting battles in distant places.

Your smile grows with each bit of distance that closes between the two of you and you lean against the balcony, eyes wide as he grows closer and closer. His current form makes that familiar heat rise once again, your cheeks and ears warming as he glides to a stop above you and lets himself down onto the balcony gently.

“My love,” you coo and he grunts his response, still unable to speak to you as he wishes while in dragon form. This is why you spend your day in the libraries, buried beneath texts hoping to get answers on how to best love him just like this, the way you love him most, but for now you’re content to let touch be the way you express your love to one another. He snorts when you run your warm and soft hand over the scales of his snout, warm air covering your body.

“I missed you.”

So much, you think. More than you ever have before and you can tell by the glint in his eye as he slowly transforms into something not quite man, not quite dragon, that he missed you as well. His amber eyes glow even in the low light, warm embers where you find your home, and your hands begin to caress flesh as he slowly becomes something you recognize better.

Something your body recognizes too, judging by the warm pool of arousal sitting in your stomach.

“Another victory, I’m assuming?”

He hums, his body continuing to return to a form you’re more familiar with. Broad shouldered and barrel chested, long hair the color of onyx flowing down his back. You love that his hair shines the same way his scales do in the light of the moon and your hand travels from his chin to the shiny strands, pushing it back from his face.

“Always. Knowing I’ll get to return to you when it’s all done pushes me further,” he can finally speak and you revel in the sound, closing the gap between your bodies and pressing your chests together. Suguru bends at the waist and wraps his arms around your hips, large hands smoothing over your back.

“Time to claim my prize?” 

His question is jovial, a little smirk playing across his features, and you nod, letting him hook one of your legs and drag it up until you can wrap it around his waist. Your underclothes do little to cover you and he’s grateful, wishing you’d simply wait out here for him in nothing given you know the routine.

He fights, he returns, he claims in that order.

“Of course, my king,” your hips begin to buck against the oversized bulge in his pants, well aware of just how long it takes his cock to go back to its normal size after he has been in his dragon form. 

You know how he feels in all forms - dragon, human, somewhere in between - and you love how salacious it feels to fuck him when he’s halfway between two of them. He’s human, flesh and muscle and bone, but he’s something more and the ridged texture of his cock takes you to highs you’ve been unable to experience elsewhere.

“Accept my apologies for keeping you waiting,” he offers and you nod, lips pressing against his again while he hikes your other leg up, wrapping it around his waist. He supports you with one hand cupping the bottom of your ass, one pressing your back so that there is no space between the two of you. 

Your head swims, heat and bliss and pure love for this man that has enveloped your lips with his own, the hand supporting your back now crawling from your spine and shoulders to the front of your body. There is just enough of a gap between the two of you that he slips his hand between your bodies and pushes your underclothes aside, gasping into your mouth when he feels the wetness between your legs that rivals the warmth of your tongue.

“Beautiful,” he mutters and you beam at the affirmation. He means it, just as he means everything he says to you, and you whimper feeling his cock jump beneath the laces of his pants. You’re all too familiar with the way it feels when it’s pressed between your folds, the two of you too fearful at one point to try and put the impressive girth and length inside of you, but he knows you can take it.

Nobody could ever take his cock like you do and you whimper at the loss of his touch across your cunt but grow excited feeling him fiddling with the laces, the worn leather of his pants pushed just beneath his ass and exposing his painfully hard cock to the cool night hair. He hisses, the sensation exactly what he needed for a sense of relief, and he’s quick to line himself up at your fluttering entrance. 

As always, you gasp at the sheer size of his tip. You have to stretch to accommodate him but you’re already so wet, silky folds covered in your own arousal, that it’s hardly an effort for him to slip the tip inside. Rocking your hips gently to get used to the feeling, you mewl and whimper into his mouth and he shushes you reassuringly. He’s so big and you’re already so full with just the tip but it’s not enough, it never is, not when you know what comes next.

A buried inch - girthy and thick, spreading you open in a way that you can only imagine is obscene, then another and another until he’s as close to bottoming out in you that he possibly can be. 

There are times you worry he’ll split you in two but the way the ridged and bumped texture of his inhuman cock feels rubbing against the deepest spots inside of you quiets any concern you have immediately, mindless moaning and pleas interrupting the silence of the night while your mouth fills with saliva.

It feels so good. He feels so good, a dream come true every time, and he looks down to see himself splitting you in two over his length. He uses his grip on your hips to increase your rocking and grinding, lifting you up and putting you back down again and again, impressively strong enough to do this while he’s standing. His thrusts are shallow, he instead uses the grip on your body to meet each one by dragging you down over his cock.

“My king, my love…” you start and he hums, warm puffs of air leaving his nostrils as he breathes through the way you’re squeezing him. Your silken walls have become a vice of pleasure for both of you and he lowers you down and lifts you back up, the sound of your own slick what finally pushes you over the edge. You feel dizzy as you reach your peak, head lolling against his shoulder while he fucks into you.

“Oh little love, do not give up on me now. We’re just beginning.”

As always, your climax simply marks the first of many that will come until the sun brightens the world around you and you keep your cheek pressed against his shoulder, happy to let him use your body as his own personal plaything until he's satiated.

[honey-oak-recs]

unkindness - pt. 3

PART 2 | PART 4

pairing: cult leader!geto suguru x f!reader

about: you are able to see apparitions you can't explain. through several self imposed exiles, you find yourself reaching adulthood ostracized and lonely until a man who sees your limitless potential arrives to show you his world.

this story chronicles four years of your life spent with geto suguru, by his side and at his feet.

word count: 2.8k

content: NSFW - MDNI. cw dark content - this fic contains content that some may find unsuitable to their own tastes. nobody knows what you like better than you but please read all content warnings/notes before proceeding. i'm not responsible if you ignore my warnings and read something you dont like! thank you. | non-linear storytelling, story is told through vignettes, toxic relationship, manipulative behavior from both geto/reader, reader has breasts/vagina and feminine terms of endearment are used, dom/sub dynamics, cw spit, cw dubcon, cw degradation, corruption kink, oral sex (m receiving), condescension, geto cums on reader's face :)

kennie's notes: thank you so much for your kindness!!! this has been really fun to write and i wont lie, this is long but i really enjoyed writing it and i hope you like it.

“Geto-sama?”

The sound of your meek voice alerts Suguru to your presence and he looks up from his usual place by the open sliding door between his room and the porch attached to it, a light breeze blowing his hair off of his shoulder. He looks ethereal and resembles a hero from a book you obsessively read as a child. Rescuing a sweet young woman from a life marred by sadness, the hero hauls her off to a place where she can be happy.

The irony isn’t lost on you.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” you start, clasping your hands together in front of you and he rises to standing, elegance exuding from him even in the most mundane of situations. He approaches you and gently rubs the back of your head and you fight the urge to lean into the touch. No amount of him feels like enough.

“You didn’t interrupt anything,” he responds with a serene smile, one you’ve noticed is just for you. He doesn’t smile at anyone else like that, not even Manami, and smugness rises in you for a split second before he speaks again. “What can I do for you?”

Clearing your throat, you look toward the ground and keep your hands linked. Geto recognizes the posture, something you do frequently when you want to speak, and he waits with his own hands joined inside of the sleeves of his yukata robes. He loves how naturally you submit to him, how you won’t even meet his eyes.

“Why am I here?”

If he’s surprised by your question, he doesn’t show it, but he does take a few strides to your side to place a comforting arm around your shoulder. Against your better judgment, you lean against him. Sides pressed together, you’re surprised when you feel the most minuscule squeeze of reassurance. Your heart threatens to burst as he leads you to where he was sitting and invites you to sit across from him, the two of you looking out at the sun setting on the horizon. 

“Before I answer,” he adjusts his sitting position and turns to face you. The golden hour warmth hits his face and you swear, not for the first time, you are glancing at a deity. Something, someone, greater than yourself. You shouldn’t be this close to him and you start to spiral but his voice brings you out of your own mind and into reality, your gaze shifting from the ground to him. “Will you tell me why you’re asking?”

Twisting your fingers together and sitting your hands in your lap, you sigh. 

A half a year has passed since you left your old life behind to join him and while you do finally feel at peace with yourself, the natural pull you feel toward the man who brought you here in the first place hasn’t dissipated in the way you expected it to. It feels like an unfulfilled hunger, a need more than a simple want at this point, but how can you begin to tell him that?

“I’m afraid that if I tell you, you’ll see me differently.”

Your words finally get a rise from Suguru and he quirks one of his dark brows. The crack in his cool headed exterior makes you giddy - is that because of you? You’re dumbfounded when his posture changes and he scoots closer to you, your knees nearly touching his. Should you pick yours up and press them against your chest? To quell your own anxiety, you decide to follow his lead. You will only move if he does.

“Nothing you say will change my opinion of you.” He reaches out and touches your knuckles with the tips of his fingers and you feel heat rise through every inch of your body. The touch makes you feel emotional and you break the intense eye contact between the two of you to stare at the ground, hoping it will hide the tears that are threatening to spill down your lash line. “I brought you here.”

Nodding, you lift your still joined fists together and wipe your eyes and down your cheek with the back of one of your hands. Although you are still looking down, you can see Geto moving from your periphery and you wonder what he’s going to do next. 

Concerned your display is upsetting him, you sit still and try to regulate your breathing to keep from sobbing but errant tears still flow. You feel Suguru’s finger before you realize what’s happening and you flinch slightly beneath his touch as he wipes the wet tracks off of your skin. He wipes his finger along the fabric of your yukata robe before wrapping both of your fists in one of his much larger hands.

“Please be honest with me.”

Thinking back to what prompted this need for confirmation of what you mean to him, you dig your nails into your palm until you’re certain marks will be left. Manami, someone who spends almost as much time around Geto as you do, comes into your mind and you gnaw on your lower lip as you think about the jealousy churning in your gut. Why does she get to be there to help him make decisions? Why does she get to watch while he’s in meetings? Why did you see her leaving his room last week, hours before dawn?

Knowing it should be you is the emboldening thought you need to open your mouth.

“Do I mean anything to you?”

Feeling him squeeze your fists, the palm of his hand warm and comforting, you release the breath you’ve been holding. For better or worse, you’re about to find out and although your mind is racing, willing yourself to be calm comes easy in his presence. As if you needed further confirmation of everything he has done for you at a moment when you’re demanding something you feel unreasonable for wanting.

“You mean everything to me, you’re our future.”

His confirmation makes you weep. Tears flow freely, dripping down your cheeks and they hit the knuckle of Suguru’s thumb. You should feel guilty, you think, for putting him in a position to have to answer but you cannot bring yourself to do it. You shouldn’t have had to wait more than half a year to know but forgiveness is easy when it comes to him. If anyone should be sorry it’s you for questioning him in the first place and so you begin to ask for forgiveness.

“I’m so sorry for asking, Geto-sama.”

You feel him pulling you into his lap, his strong hands wrapping around your hips and the blood rushes into your face. Perching with uncertainty, your bottom rests against his thigh and it feels natural. All of the yearning couldn’t have prepared you for this feeling and you sigh as he brings one of his large hands to cup the back of your neck, his voice so close to your ear it makes goosebumps erupt across your skin.

“Call me Suguru from now on,” he whispers, a secret for your ears only. You feel his lips press against the space where your jaw and neck meet, another secret for the two of you to keep. Everyone on the compound would view you differently if they knew this was happening but you don’t care. You can’t care, not when he’s running his palms up your waist and unfastening your robe.

The opened door with a view of the outside doesn’t concern you as Suguru’s deft fingers work at the knot keeping you decent, the same breeze that rustles his hair that has always reminded you of feathers blowing across your bare chest as the robe is worked down around your waist. Your nipple stiffens and Geto reaches to pinch it between his thumb and index finger, making you yelp.

“How long have you wanted this, my little bird?” He wonders aloud and you almost feel as if he isn’t speaking to you at all, he merely wants you to listen and to witness. “Since you met me?”

He knows the truth just as he knows the way you’re looking at him. Eyes lidded, cheeks puffed out, lips wet with your own spit. You’re never going to leave his side.

“Tell me the truth,” he pinches your nipple once more and you arch your back, lip jutting out at the roughness of the feeling. Nobody has ever touched you like this before and the feeling is electric. Despite the fuzziness in your brain, the heady arousal clouding your every thought, you wet your lips with your tongue and speak. 

“So long, Suguru.”

He smirks knowingly and lowers his head to suck your breast into his mouth, his warm tongue lapping at your skin. It’s nothing short of luxurious, you think. This is how it always should have been. His hands travel from the dip of your waist to your hips, pulling the fabric of your robe further down to expose more of you to his hungry eyes. You reach out toward his face, your fingers tentatively brushing against his lower lip and he releases your nipple from his mouth.

“Can I touch you too?”

Another whisper, another secret. A predatory gleam shines in Suguru’s eyes and you wiggle against his lap, keeping your fingertips pressed against his mouth. He puckers and kisses them gently, reaching to grab your wrist. He places your hand against the bulge beneath his robes, covering your delicate fingers with his own.

“You can,” he uses his grip on your hand to press the heel against his hard cock and he hisses through his teeth. You admire the way his throat looks when his head is tipped back in pleasure, his Adam's apple bobbing. How is everything he does so effortlessly beautiful, you wonder. Your attention is recaptured by his voice. “But first, how long?”

Your wide eyed, parted lip expression only serves as further fuel for the blood pumping between his legs. You look so innocent, the same as you did all of those months ago when he felt the first of your defenses crumble. It’s funny to him that both times, your vulnerability is because he has put his hands on you. Nervously, you shift in his lap and he presses you closer to his body to keep you from going any further. 

“Since the first day,” you admit, to him and yourself for the first time. He smirks, molding your hand around his bulge and you squeeze. Another hiss from him is all you want, the noise motivating you to offer yourself further. Using your free hand, you slip out of your robe the rest of the way and for the first time, you're bare to his eyes.

"Look at you." Your face heats and you feel your posture collapse in on itself, shoulders slumping after being so seen. "Show me how well you listen."

His command drips with condescension but you’re too awed to notice. When you nod, he gently nudges you off of his lap and you tuck your legs beneath you. Watching as he rises, you stay seated and admire the way those same lithe fingers that were just caressing your overheated skin work at the knot in his own robes.

Those dark eyes glance down at where you kneel on the ground and he gently smooths his hand over the top of your head and slides it into place along your cheek to cup your face. Using his grip to force you to look at him, you do and appear dazed. Transfixed, perhaps, would be better. 

“I’ve always known,” Geto unfastens the knot in his robe fully and you gasp at the sight of his nude form backlit by dusk right outside the door. He’s tall and broad and you can’t look away. “That you would realize.”

Pumping his hand along his impressive length, you bite your tongue to keep from eagerly interrupting him. You want to touch him so badly, you have to sit on your hands like a child to keep from approaching sooner than you should. Before you can think any further about his words, he walks a few steps and the sticky head of his cock nearly brushes your soft, swollen mouth. 

“I knew it was you from the moment we met.” He hangs his head just low enough that you feel the words are truly meant just for you and you shiver. As you wait for further instruction, he squeezes your cheek and jaw in the palm of his hand. Your eyes don’t leave him once.

Suguru has always prided himself on his ability to break people down - to their core, their most base selves in every sense of the word. Usually there’s a moment where he can see in their eyes that they have been broken, cloudy and glossy. Yours have looked like that since he met you.

“This is what devotion gets you.” His words make you shiver as he uses his free hand to point the head of his cock at your lips, rubbing the sticky tip along your pouty mouth. Sitting still as stone and waiting for his directions, he gently pulls your face toward his pelvis and his tip pops into your mouth. A long, low moan leaves him and you squirm at the sound. “Just relax for me, okay?”

Suguru releases his grip on your cheek and moves to palm the back of your head, fingers finding an easy and natural grasp on your skull. You take a deep breath and look up at him with watery eyes and he chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re perfect,” he breathes toward the ceiling and you tense slightly as he uses his grip to move more of his cock between your lips. “Stay relaxed, baby. It’s okay.”

Your head bobs slightly and he groans again and you wonder what it will take to get him to make that noise again, the deep guttural moan sending shockwaves to your clit. You want to rut against something, to feel the pressure release in your stomach and between your legs, but Geto is your first priority. 

Experimentally, you dip your face toward the dark hair at the base of his thick cock and you gag a bit as more of his length slips down your throat. The grip on the back of your head tightens and he gasps. Lifting your eyes in his direction for just a moment, you whine at the sight of him with his head thrown back in pleasure. Open mouthed, eyes shut tightly, every muscle in his neck bulging - you love it. If you were a more artistic person, you’d find a way to capture this forever but for now you commit the vision to memory and allow him to thrust his hips so that the remaining length of him dips fully between your lips. The tip of your nose brushes his pubic hair and you moan and gag around his length, tears slipping out of the corners of your eyes. Using the thumb of his free hand, Suguru brushes your tears away and it makes you sob and gag. 

“Oh baby, don’t give up on me now,” he comforts from above, brows furrowed as his hips jerk and your nose continually bumps against his pelvis. Finding a rhythm, he listens to the noises coming from between your lips with every stroke and he feels himself getting closer. His balls tense and his cock twitches and he isn’t willing to prolong the wait any longer than it has already been.

“Open up, keep your tongue out, just like that,” he instructs as he releases his cock from between your lips with a sticky and wet pop, jerking his hand along his spit covered shaft right above your lips and chin and nose. “Stay just like ahhh-,” his words are cut short with a pleasured shout as he shoots translucent ropes of cum across your spit soaked face. A splash lands across your tongue and you note the salty taste - something you’ll associate with just Suguru for as long as you live. 

Wrist pumping until he feels fully emptied, he takes a deep breath and covers himself halfway. His lean torso is visible and you feel your cunt throb at the sight and part of you wonders if he’s going to do the same for you - if he’ll kneel between your legs and worship your pussy like he hasn’t had a meal in days.

“Miguel, Manami, you can come in now.”

The deep voice filling your ears makes you scramble to cover yourself with your arms, your breasts and back bare to the open sliding door. The pair make their entrance and you keep your face pointed toward the ground, tears spilling hot down your cheeks. Suguru pats the back of your head as he walks back toward the tatami and sits, patting the spot next to him for you.

“Had some other business to take care of, please forgive my rudeness.”

You stay frozen in place but you can feel the eyes of your compatriots on your sticky face, remnants of Geto clinging to your cheeks.

[honey-oak-recs]

Game Night

Serizawa Katsuya x reader Fluff Word Count: 1.5k Author's Note: I've been meaning to write this for ages. I think Serizawa would love to play any type of games with you, especially video games. He's so sweet and I love him dearly. Not edited. Feedback appreciated! Italics indicate texts

“Are we still on for game night?” you texted Serizawa. The two of you had made it a habit of having game night at 5:30 on Fridays. Always at his place, as he had the best setup for any kind of games you wanted to play. He’s never bailed on a game night, but you liked to confirm that he was still interested in it. 

“We’re finishing up a job. Should be done in about 30 minutes! 🙂” he messaged back almost immediately. 

He quickly followed up with, “you can go on in and get the games ready if you’d like 😊”.

A few weeks ago, he had given you a spare key for times like this. He didn’t want to be rude and make you wait in the hallway for him to get home, but he also didn’t want you to have to wait for him to text you, thus delaying game night even longer. You accepted the key graciously and it hung on your keychain with your apartment key and a cat key charm.

The walk from your apartment to his was only about fifteen minutes. You would usually walk there by yourself and Serizawa would walk you back home. You always made him promise to text you when he got back home and he always kept that promise. It was hard to say what your relationship was. You liked him a lot, and you thought you were giving some subtle hints. But with Serizawa, it was hard to read him. He was always so nice and friendly to you, but he was that way with everyone. He always let you choose the game to play, but never really gave any indication if it was what he wanted to play. But then, you thought it didn’t really matter because he always won whatever game you played. 

You stood in front of his door for a solid five minutes before fetching the keys out of your pocket. It was a little nerve-wracking to be going into his place while he wasn’t there. The keys jingled in your hand as you tried to steady it in order to get the key into the lock. First the deadbolt, and then the lock on the doorknob. You slowly walked in and found his place to be in its usual state; cozy and tidy. You sent him a quick message to let him know that you had arrived and he sent a text back a few minutes later. 

“Great! We’re almost done (I think).”

“You can pick whatever game!”

“Maybe practice a little before I get there 😅”

“I’m going to win tonight, Katsuya…you’ll see!”

“😆” was all he responded back. You knew that meant Reigen probably needed his full attention at that moment. 

He had an entire room dedicated to gaming. A big tv with surround sound, a soft couch, a couple of bean bags, and all of the games you could imagine. Sometimes you would play board games and other times you played console games. None of the board games were piquing your interest, so you shuffled through some of the console games. At the bottom of the stack, tucked away ever so slightly, was a game you had never played with Serizawa. This was a game that you were actually quite good at, a game that you have played many times.  This was the game that you knew you were going to play tonight. 

Forty-five minutes later, you heard Serizawa walk through the door. 

“______?” he called out. 

“I’m in the game room!” you called back, currently concentrated on the practice game you were playing. 

“Oh! I thought maybe you had left and were mad at me, you didn’t respond back to my texts,” he chuckled nervously and leaned against the door frame, his expression changing from worried to excited. “I stopped for some snacks, too.” He held up a bag and set it on the table. He sat on the opposite end of the couch as you and watched you play. 

“So, this is the game you want to play then, I take it?”

“Oh yeah! I meant it earlier when I said that I was going to win tonight!”

He chuckled. “I haven’t played Mario Kart in ages,” he said as he cracked his knuckles and rolled up his sleeves. 

You quit the game you were currently in and went back to the home screen so that he could add his controller into the game. You knew that he was excited to play, because he didn’t even bother to change out of his work clothes. It made you smile to yourself. 

“I love Mario Kart! I always play Waluigi. He’s so goofy. I can sound like him, too. Wanna hear?”

Serizawa gave you a soft smile and a nod. 

“WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!” you did your best Waluigi impression. 

Serizawa busted out laughing, his face turning a little red. “That was really good! You sounded just like him! Got any other impersonations?”

“Hm…I can sound like Toad a little bit. But I need to refine that impersonation,” you chuckled. 

“That’s so funny you said Toad. I always play as Toad! He’s a quiet, funky little guy.”

“I would have never pegged you as a Toad guy. You look more like a Shy Guy to me.”

“Nah, Toad is definitely the best!” 

“Well, I guess we’ll see. I’m not leaving tonight until I beat you in one race!” you smiled widely, and Serizawa blushed a little before turning his head toward the TV. 

“Alright, game one. Let’sa go!” He gave his best Mario impression. 

The games were intense. The first few Serizawa won and it wasn’t even close. But you started to pick up your rhythm. You got very excitable during the games and would stand up, sit down, jump back up, sit back down. You had your controller every which way, while Serizawa remained calm and in the same position the entire time.

Hours passed and you were always so close to beating him, but he always had something up his sleeve. A blue shell, a banana peel, and bomb, something that would always hinder you from crossing the finish line first. And, everytime, you would plop back down onto the couch in defeat, stating that you’ll get him the next game.  Eventually, the two of you had found your way to the middle of the couch. You were both shoulder to shoulder as this last race was getting close to finishing. You were neck and neck, but this time he didn’t have any extras to bombard you with. You were pulling out ahead and you could see the finish line in the frame. The excitement in you was bubbling. And then, out of nowhere, your controller went flying out of your hands and floated in the air above you. Waluigi ran into the wall and Toad raced right past him to cross the finish line first. 

“Katsu! You…you cheated!” you accused, your face scrunched in dismay. The controller dropped back down into your lap gently. 

“I..well..,” the guilt showed all over his face as he set his controller down, “you said that you weren’t going to leave until you beat me. And well,” he rubbed the back of his neck,”I’ve been having a lot of fun and I don’t want you to leave just yet.”

The anger in your chest slowly dissipated and was replaced with a sense of fondness. “You could’ve let me win still and asked me to stay anyway, Katsuya,” you bumped your shoulder into his. 

“I…yes, I suppose I could have. I’m sorry. I just really want you to stay. I always have a lot of fun with you, and I thought maybe we could extend our game nights into game weekends,” he said as he fidgeted with his hands. 

You gently placed your hand onto his. “I’d like that a lot, Katsu.” You leaned up and kissed his cheek. He brought one of his hands up to where you’d placed the kiss and he began to turn a bright red. 

“Just two requests, though,” you said sternly. “No more using your powers for cheating.”

He nodded, “Done and done. What’s the other request?”

“Don’t go easy on me, alright?”

He smiled fiercely, “Are you sure about that?” 

“Absolutely.”

“I can fulfill both of those requests. But, I have a request for you as well.”

“Oh,” you quirked your eyebrow at him. 

“Mhmm. I would like to walk you to your apartment so you can get some things you’d need to stay over. And then we can continue this Mario Kart smackdown!”

You agreed with his request. The two of you held hands all the way to your place and all the way back to his. He even carried your bag for you. You didn’t win a single race that night. But it didn’t matter to you. In your eyes, being able to spend more time with Serizawa was the ultimate win for a game night.

[honey-oak-recs]

day 9, sesshomaru: ruts

kinktobruary day 9

sesshomaru x reader // inuyasha

—sesshomaru has been acting strange lately. the last thing he needs is your oblivious questions.

tw/cws: knotting, ruts, dubcon, sesshomaru being too horny to have self-respect

It is troublesome, this burning heat. It stirs, just beneath the surface of his skin, coils between his muscles. It calls to him, urges him to find a warm body, to mount it. His claws elongate as he observes the heat diffusing from his palm. Hm. Even a demon of high caliber such as himself is powerless to nature’s calling.

Much less… his thoughts began to drift to you, his very human companion. There are things he wants to do to you, thoughts that he’s repressed in the past that come snarling towards him, breaking out of their cage. He frowns. This won’t do.

—

“Gosh, Sesshomaru really has been cranky all day, huh,” you remark, after the third time he’s evaded your presence. His silence and occasional ignoring is something you’re used to, but not him outright using his demonic speed to dash seven paces away from you.

Jaken shushes you urgently, glancing fearfully towards his master. “Lord Sesshomaru is going through a… difficult period.”

You frown. You disappeared to the modern era for a few days to sort through your college midterms, and when you came back, Sesshomaru was in this bristly mood. You can’t help but think you’re missing something.

“Is it Inuyasha?” You ask lowly, knowing all too well of his tumultuous relationship with his brother. “Does it have to do with his father?”

“No, and no, you daft human,” Jaken nags.

You’re more than used to Jaken’s insults. “Okay, so…. what’s up with him?”

The imp glances eyes you, before quickly changing the subject. Your frown deepens as you finish bending the stems to Rin’s flower crown, before calling her over and placing it on her head. While she chatters excitedly to you, you find your gaze straying to Sesshomaru’s tense form in the distance, just far enough where he can still keep an eye out for enemies, but not too close to your group. 

Whatever his problem is, you would get it out of Jaken some way.

—

You just don’t anticipate how you will. 

Sesshomaru’s been acutely avoiding any and all interactions with your group all day. It’s almost as if he’s a specter, lurking just outside of your field of vision. Except whenever he does get closer, you’re overwhelmed by a sense of—bloodlust? Malice? Something that simmers with intensity. You can’t quite pinpoint it, and whenever you ask Jaken, he seems to evade your question. Whatever it is, it sends shivers down your spine. 

When you set up camp for the night, he disappears entirely.

Your thoughts are plagued by worries for him, and you fall into a fitful sleep. What could possibly be causing him to be so on edge all day? You’re stirred into consciousness by something brushing against your nose. Your face scrunches up, and when you open your eyes, you see a flash of silver hair, curtaining your view, the same wave of bloodlust—

“Sesshomaru?” Just as his name leaves your mouth, his presence is gone in a flash, the air around you stirred. You sit up, glancing towards the direction of his after-image.

You weigh your options. Jaken did say he was going through a difficult time…. but you aren’t sure what is troubling him. Maybe it’s a demon thing? Should you really risk getting your head bitten off? 

Against your better judgement, you go searching for him. Sure, he’s a big, bad demon, but something is clearly bothering him. And as his.... friend—as loathe as he is to admit it—you can’t just leave him be. 

What you are not expecting is to see Sesshomaru hunched over by a tree as if in pain. You call out his name, running towards him, but are stopped by a feral snarl as he turns towards you, his eyes flashing red.

“Leave. Now.”

“What’s wrong? I—”

As you approach closer, you notice several things. His claws are sunk into the tree, the poison leeching from it and decaying the bark. The markings on his face are fiercer, more striking, and his fangs protrude from his lips. His eyes flash more and more red with every moment; he looks every bit a wild animal. But, and perhaps the most scandalous of all, he grips his cock in one clawed hand, erect and red, and apparently he was jerking off.

You try not to stare, you really do, but your eyes instinctively dart down there as you feel heat creep to your cheeks at the position you’ve caught him in. 

His hand has stopped moving, but his cock stands throbbing, looking painfully erect. You gulp.

“You’re just a mere human. You wouldn’t understand—”

“You’re… horny,” you state, blandly.

“Human—” His eyes flash dangerously.

“You’re...” Your mind flashes through possibilities. Sesshomaru seems unable to control his... not bloodlust, but carnal lust. He is a dog demon, which means.. he could possibly be... “In a... rut?”

He stills. A vein pops out in his jaw, his fangs seeming even more prominent.

“I… I studied this in school. Once.” Freshman biology, but he doesn’t need to know that. “Do you need—” You’re not sure what you’re asking him. What does he need? A hole? A demonness to fuck?

This is awkward. His eyes follow you like a predator, that wave of lust washing over you again. You stifle a shiver.

“Before your arrival,” he says suddenly, the piercing quality of his words startling you. “I had no such issues dealing with these… urges. But now, they are quite...” His claws dig into the bark further, and the bark snaps. “Incorrigible.”

“Oh.” You blink. “I’m… sorry?”

“This is partly your doing,” he growls.

“Uh-huh...”

“I... am tempted to ask you to fix it.”

This is where your brain grinds to a halt, your jaw dropping. His sharp gaze hones in on the way your mouth opens enticingly, and you notice, snapping it shut. “I—you want me to—”

He makes a frustrated growl in the back of his throat. “Disregard that.” And then he’s stalking away, each step seeming painful, emphasized even more by the engorged flesh sticking out of his pants.

“W-Wait, Sesshomaru—”

He’s on you in a flash, before you can even blink, and you freeze. “I suggest—” The warmth of his breath washes over you, and this close you can feel just how hot he’s running, his entire body diffusing heat. “That you don’t—call me—like that—”

“Like what?” you blurt out. “I’m just saying your name.”

His lip curls over his fangs. His eyes clench in frustration. You seem to be testing the limits of his patience.

“Sesshomaru, what—”

In a flash, he’s pressing you against another tree, and his lips are claiming yours. There’s nothing gentle about it, his fangs digging into your lip. You flinch when you feel blood trickle down your chin, and he snarls at the taste of it, before pulling away.

“For one of the less idiotic humans, you can be quite obstinate.”

“I’m...” You blink, dazed. “Sorry?”

His mouth is claiming yours again, his chestplate pressing you into the bark. You feel the heat of his cock pressed up against your thigh, and you shudder at the sensation. It’s hitting you now.

Sesshomaru, one of the most ethereally beautiful people you’ve seen, the most powerful demon in the Feudal Era, wants to... he’s this frenzied up because of... because of you. You, an average human.

Your thigh nudges against his length, and he breaks the kiss to snarl, his fangs lowering to graze your collarbone. Your breath hitches, and one, clawed finger comes up to shred your shirt. You yelp as the cold air hits you only to be devoured by the heat of his mouth on your skin. His fingers claws through the material of your bra, and you yelp again.

“Hey, that was one of my favorites!” you say, indignant. He scoffs, his mouth suctioning over the give of your flesh possessively.

You moan, arching into his touch, as you stare down at him. You don’t dare touch his silver hair, afraid of how he may lash out on you, but your hands do come up to his shoulders, tugging the fabric.

You tense when one of his fingers lowers itself to your hip, and then he’s ripping the panties and skirt off in one clawed swipe.

“We really... have to talk about you ruining all my clothing,” you say, weakly, your affront tempered by his actions.

He scoffs again. “You won’t need such flimsy things in just a moment.”

“Ah...”

His finger slides against your slit, collecting your release, as you writhe against his touch. He’s aware of the softness of your flesh in comparison to his demon claws so he doesn’t do anything much other than rub his finger back and forth along you. He growls once he’s satisfied with the amount of slick coating your area, before leaning back and aligning the his cock to your entrance.

“A-ah wait—“ Your eyes widen at his considerable length; you’re not nearly ready to take him in. But then he’s canting his hips forward, not penetrating you, but sliding his cock along your slick till he reaches your ass cheeks. He continues this rocking motion, his lips pulled back in a snarl. You moan, dropping your head back, before wincing as it hits the unyielding bark. His hand comes up to cradle your head. “Thanks,” you murmur.

His sharp gaze is fixated on the way his length slides against you, and rubs against your slick; the way your arousal gleams on his shaft under the moonlight.

His hips begin to rock faster now, a growl building up in his throat. You wince at the dig of his armor against your bare skin, gripping his shoulders as you attempt to find some grounding.

You feel his cock throbbing insistently against you, his pre-ejaculate mixing with your arousal to make for an easy slide against you.

He growls, his eyes narrowing. His grip digs into your hip as his thrusts become choppier. You get the sense he’s frustrated.

“Do you want to... put it in?”

His gaze flashes up to you, surprise in the bleeding red, as you continue. “I... that’ll help abate your rut right? I don’t mind... you using me.”

You have little else you can say, because Sesshomaru sheathes himself inside you in one thrust. You gasp, your eyes clenching at the feel of him stretching you to your limits.

“Ever heard of a... a warning?” you manage to choke out.

He shows no mercy, his hips ruthlessly pounding into yours once given the go ahead. It’s clear Sesshomaru is losing his grip on rule or reason now, his eyes maintaining their blood-red state. You wince as his elongated claws press into the meat of your waist. He fucks you like he takes down foes: with ruthless precision. Once his cock hits that spot that has you keening against him, he begins hammeringinto it, and your eyes began to water at the sheer intensity and rapidness at which your pleasure is mounting.

At the sight of your tears, however, he seems to slow down. His tongue darts out to lick them off your face, and he’s observing you, before his thrusts slow to a leisurely lull. When the palm of his hand comes down to press against your clit, the stimulation, combined with the way his cock is plunging into you in long, deep thrusts, has you writhing against him.

“S-Sesshomaru—”

You feel something bulbous forming at the base of his cock, stretching you wider, and you look down. Protruding from his cock is a thick knot, and you gulp once you realize that’s going into you.

You’re approaching your end. He snarls as you tighten around him, both his hands gripping your hips to him now, as your walls clench around him, nearly trapping his cock with their grip.

Sesshomaru thrusts once before pressing deep inside you, a throaty grunt tearing from him. You shiver as you feel copious amounts of warmth seep into you, and it remains inside you due to the knot plugging you up. The moment seems to stretch on forever, his hips jerking into yours in minute movements, and then it’s over.

The two of you are stuck together. You shift only to wince once it jerks at his knot. He grunts, keeping your hips in place.

“Sorry,” you say. And then, when a few more minutes have passed, and the two of you are still in the same position, you ask, “Ah, when can we.... detach?”

Sesshomaru grunts. “Once it deflates.”

“Ah... and when will that be?”

He shifts. “This Sesshomaru is claiming you as his. It will take awhile.”

“Ah, okay—wait, what?”

He presses you closer to him, and you rest your head against his chest. While the feel of cooling cum usually is gross, the heat of his body keeps you warm and feeling full. His clawed fingers gradually begin to trail through you hair. After several minutes that seem to stretch into eons, the bond keeping you to him diminishes, and you shiver when you feel some of his spend trickle down your thigh.

Instead of the hard flesh inside you softening, however, it stays stiff. You still, glancing up at him to see his markings still vibrant, his red eyes glowing distinctly.

“Did you really think we were done, human? The Demon Lord of the West surely does not possess such a meager drive.”

The next morning, you come up with some half-assed excuse to Rin about why you’re wearing a kimono from the local seamstress, and not your usual outfit. And why you can’t seem to walk anymore, and Sesshomaru has to carry you everywhere.

“(Y/N) must have fallen and hurt themselves.” She giggles.

“Yes, Rin... on a very large... stick.” Sesshomaru’s claws dig into your backside in warning. “I mean—tree branch.”

“Silly (Y/N)! It’s a good thing Lord Sesshomaru is around to take care of you.”

(Meanwhile, Jaken has yet to be seen since he encountered the two of you this morning. He’s too busy cleansing his eyes and nose out in a lake.)

[honey-oak-recs]

unkindness - pt. 1

PART 2 | PART 3

pairing: cult leader!geto suguru x f!reader

about: you are able to see apparitions you can't explain. through several self imposed exiles, you find yourself reaching adulthood ostracized and lonely until a man who sees your limitless potential arrives to show you his world.

this story chronicles four years of your life spent with geto suguru, by his side and at his feet.

word count: 1.7k

content: NSFW - MDNI. cw dark content - this fic contains content that some may find unsuitable to their own tastes. nobody knows what you like better than you but please read all content warnings/notes before proceeding. i'm not responsible if you ignore my warnings and read something you dont like! thank you. | major character death, reader can see curses/has cursed energy and eventually becomes a curse user, non-linear storytelling, mostly canon compliant (see notes), geto's fate: canon compliant, story is told through vignettes, toxic relationship, manipulative behavior from both geto/reader, reader is a little fucked up too, power imbalance, age difference (reader is 18 when she meets geto, he is 23), reader has breasts/vagina and feminine terms of endearment are used, unprotected sex, rough sex, dom/sub dynamics, spit, dubcon, corruption kink, oral sex (m receiving)

kennie's notes: hi! i'm glad you've made it here and i didnt scare you off. uhhh i went to a really weird place in my mind for this and i hope it shows. spending time with geto in my brain is bad for me because this is what comes out so it is what it is.

a couple of things: one, i know a lot of people will dislike this geto characterization and i'm okay with that BUT i will say he doesn't feel ooc to me. canon geto is a deeply manipulative, unwell man but he is my baby girl so i cant make him completely awful. second, i couldn't have done this without encouragement from my equally crazy cohorts so please know how much i love and appreciate y'all. im being long winded now, they're playing music to send me off.

okay love you! thanks! enjoy (i hope!) come see me if you liked it!

When you were eight years old, sitting in your mother’s lap as she combed through your wet hair, you remember telling her about a recurring dream you had been having for weeks. You were nervous to tell her, your little hands balled into fists as they rested against your nightgown clad thighs. 

“A raven,” you recount to her as she nods and gently uses the bristles of the comb to de-tangle a knot. “Bigger than any bird I’ve ever seen is in this dream every night, flying around over my head.” Your mother sighs and reassuringly pats your head. You hear the spritz of a spray bottle from behind you, a synthetic green apple scent filling your nostrils. 

Telling her filled your stomach with anxiety, an issue you didn’t know you had at the time. You figured the world was just scary back then. You wish you could go back and tell yourself how right you were. About how scary the world is, anyway. To tell yourself about how everything will eventually end up likely wouldn’t change the outcome but at least you could say a few things.

“The raven comes to the ground eventually. He doesn’t fly over your head forever, instead he glides by your side.”

“The visions you’ve seen are real, you aren’t crazy.”

The most unbelievable thing of all?

“You end up in love.”

Back then though, you only had your mom and her words to illuminate the darkness you felt lurked around every corner.

“Have you ever heard of omens?”

Shaking your head, you turn to look at your mom who is tapping the edge of the comb against the heel of her hand. She’s chewing the inside of her cheek and you can tell she’s deciding what to say next to comfort you. Your mom has never been good at this kind of thing, a woman who never envisioned she would have a child with so much angst and fear. 

“Sometimes we receive signs that something is going to happen in our lives even if we don’t understand them,” she starts. You hear her mouth open, as if she wants to add something additional, but you hear it snap shut as if she thought better of it. You nod once, signaling your understanding and she gets back to work at the stubborn tangle at the base of your skull without another word shared between the two of you.

You hate that this is the most vivid memory from your childhood.

You hate that you still have the dream.

You wake with a gasp, looking around and blinking as warm morning light filters through the window. Feeling around the bed, you wonder if Suguru is already up and moving for the day as your hands touch the duvet where he should be. It’s cold, as if nobody was there in the first place. Knowing that may have been the case anyway, you sigh and rub your hands over your face. 

“Suguru?”

His name leaves your lips in a tentative manner and you look around the room to make sure he isn’t looking at the early morning sun or standing there watching you sleep. No matter how much of your life you spend with him, you’ll never get used to the feeling of those black diamond eyes following you everywhere you go. But finally, you are seen. 

Four years spent with him and no one sees you like he does.

You were 18 years old, a few months from graduating high school, when Suguru approached you. The sight of a stranger raised your hackles, scared of the world at large at that point in your life, and you were concerned trouble was coming for you. All of the omens in your dreams would finally come true and they would be at the hands of this beautiful man, rising to his full height which is nearly towering over you. His hair was shorter then than it is now, just past his shoulders and tied in a neat half bun off of his face.

He looked like less of a god now than he did then but you knew it. The omnipresent feeling of him sticks in your bones. It’s the confidence that makes you stand with your back straight, that guides you through the worst of the days where he’s nowhere to be found. 

Unable to find him, you shuffle back to the futon and lay down amongst blankets that smell like him. You’ve never been able to place the scent but you know it’s his. Wrapping yourself in the duvet, you let your mind wander back to all of those years ago.

“I know this seems sudden but I wanted to ask you about your gift.”

Mention of your gift, not that you’d ever call it that, makes you freeze. He notices your expression, wide eyed and haunted, and he fights the urge to smile at you. Just as he and everyone else suspected, you have no idea what you’re capable of. It would be a failing worthy of death to let Gojo find you first. Suguru couldn’t risk the bird dog finding his canary and dropping her off, bloodied and broken, on the doorstep of the Sorcerer community. 

He wouldn’t allow it.

“M..my gift?” You repeat with uncertainty and he nods, bun bobbing against the back of his head as he does so. The situation is withering, a handsome stranger asking you about a secret you’ve kept hidden for your whole life while the sun beats down and makes you sweat. You wonder if you’re about to be killed.  

“You are an exceptional young woman, do you know that?”

The background noise of the world fades out, the sound of the spring birds chirping disappearing as you blink once, twice, and you notice those dark eyes fixated on you. You blanch and avert your eyes. Were you even allowed to look at him? Dressed in such nice clothing with such a regal demeanor? Shaking your head, you play off the awkwardness with a humorless chuckle.

“You must be looking for someone else, sir.” Bowing your head as a sign of respect, you turn to walk away. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

Before you can turn on your heel to walk away, you feel a large palm rest on your shoulder. You take note of the weight of it, the feel against your bones, and you wonder why this is happening to you? You are so afraid but you can’t run, you don’t have the guts for it. What do you do now?

Nothing. You do nothing, just as you’ve done your entire life. You let this strange man grab you, hold you, speak to you. Humiliation rises like bile in your throat and you turn to face him, astounded again by his beauty. The sunlight catches his dark eyelashes, warmth emanating from him. How can you walk away? You won’t walk away.

“I don’t want this to be more strange than it already is,” he starts, voice deep and dreamy. You could get lost in the baritone and the way it wraps around you but you choose instead to focus on his words to try and understand what he wants from you. “But I know you have something nobody else has. Abilities.”

He’s correct but you wonder how he could possibly know about your struggles. You have kept them to yourself for years even to the detriment of your own well being. Your mother and father both assume you’re deranged and there are times where you’ve wholeheartedly agreed with them since you began seeing the things that haunt you at every turn when you were 5. 

“How do you know about that?”

The man shakes his head and holds his free hand ahead of him. “Why don’t you walk with me and we can talk some more?”

How can you say no with his hand on your shoulder? Turning on your heel to face him, you keep quiet and wait for further instructions. Your naturally submissive tendencies are serving you well in this situation and Geto doesn't hide his smug smile. You are perfect and he knew it.

As the two of you begin to pick up pace walking side by side, you anxiously keep your eyes glued to the ground. Being able to visualize each of your steps is keeping you calm and if you look down, there's less of a chance you'll see whatever is out there to scare you.

"Look at me."

He doesn't ask, he commands, and you listen. For the first time, you notice something perching on his shoulder. It's formless for the most part and less terrifying than what you usually see attached to others as they pass by you but you're intrigued nonetheless.

"Do you know about that....thing?" Pointing to his shoulder, he nods at you and you breathe a sigh of relief. "You see them also?"

A chuckle is his response and you ponder what it means while you wait for him to clear up your confusion. "I don't just see them, I control them."

The figure disappears quickly and you gasp, searching around your own feet and your shoulders to make sure he didn't order it in your direction to harm you.

"How?"

Despite your trepidation, Suguru can see the way that your eyes sparkle at the thought of someone being like you. He knows how it felt for him, too.

"I can show you and so can my friends." He watches your nose scrunch in confusion at his words and he laughs, amused. The sound is musical and uplifting and you feel yourself lightening up for the first time maybe in your entire life. Knowing you aren't alone has shifted your perspective more than you realized it would.

"There are more of you?"

"A couple dozen, yeah."

Nodding, you think for a moment. What if he can actually help you? What if these people are actually like you? What if you can find a place that suits you for the first time in 18 whole years?

"How can you help me?" 

The man turns to you, knowing smirk in place across his mouth. “I can show you better than I can tell you.”

[honey-oak-recs]

missed

hiei x reader // yu yu hakusho

hiei is too gullible for his own good. he remains unamused by your antics.

The first time you do it, Hiei is comically at a loss for words. 

The fire demon is angry, per usual, at some inane mission Koenma sent him on. His tongue is sharp, ranting about how a glorified toddler is sending him on a mission that any grunt could do, to chase a low-level demon, and it’s far from him being incapable of doing so, but rather he could be doing much better things with his time—

It’s not that you don’t care, but Hiei is almost always so testy. You sometimes think the only things that make him happy are fighting and arguing: two things he does incredibly well. 

You’re watching Hiei blow off some steam by training once again—truly, you can’t count how many “dates” you’ve spent watching him swing his sword at training dummies—when the idea occurs to you. You stand up from the log you were seated on, approaching him slowly so as not to startle him.

“Hey, Hiei?”

He turns to you, in mid-stance. “What?”

“You have something on your face,” you say, inching towards him. He scrunches his face up, and rubs his cheeks with the back of his palm, probably assuming it’s dirt or sweat or the blood of his enemies. Typical fare. 

“Got it,” he grunts, turning his attention back to his sword in hand.

“Mm, no, you missed a spot here.” You point to his upper lip, and Hiei scowls, rubbing his face brusquely. “Still there.” His jaw clenches, and you recognize that he’s about to tell you off for interrupting his training with such inane problems, when—

You surge forward, your lips lightly brushing his.

And for once, when you pull back, Hiei looks stunned by your actions, his eyes wide.

You giggle. “It was my lips.” 

You retreat, knowing he likes the chase, when you bump into him right after, his speed certainly not one to underestimate. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Hiei mutters with a twinge of something uncharacteristically soft in his tone, as soft as he could get. He rolls his eyes, and then he’s jerking your head down and his lips are crashing onto yours.

Hiei is nothing if not passionate in everything he does, and the harsh slant of his lips against yours proves that. Whether it’s anger, or pride, or the irrepressible burning need he has to prove to you his worth, he gives it all to you in these moments of his skin on yours. 

And then, when he breaks away from the kiss, noting with smug satisfaction your erratic breathing and flushed cheeks, he tells you, 

“You should do it like you mean it, woman.” 

[honey-oak-recs]

EXCUSE ME, I am not familiar with Obito, as you know, but these were all so FREAKING CUTE.

This literally had me 🥹🥺💘💖💗

I was CACLKING at this:

As always everything you write is fucking phenomenal.

pragma

obito uchiha x reader // naruto

—because even your local hardened war criminal/resident traumatized uchiha/certified masked idiot deserves love. 

a collection of valentine’s day obito fics—some canon, some canon-divergent, some au. 

word count: 4.7k

—note: happy (late) bday obito! i started this last vday but couldn't post in time.

POST WAR OBITO LIVES REDEMPTION ARC AU

“Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Obito blinks. He's about to head out for his shift when you present the the small box before him, wrapped with a delicate red bow. Now that he's past house arrest, the Rokudaime, after lengthy debates with his council, has allowed Obito to do community service in an attempt to make amends for his past crimes. It's grueling labor, of course, and he's strapped with all kinds of chakra inhibitors and accompanied by ANBU any time he's out and about. But this form of punishment, he tells you, is far more merciful than he deserves.

“I–” He drops his bag, cocking his head to the side. You press the box into his hands. It takes him awhile to realize it's a gift. For him. Oh. “Thank you?”

Obito's expression can be only be described as adorably confused, and you can’t help but giggle.

“It’s a holiday,” you press. “Where you give your loved ones chocolate and other gifts?”

“Ah, that's right...” He ducks his head to hide the flush rising to his cheeks, scratching the side of his face. He had forgotten about that. “Thanks.”

He’s not embarrassed, per se. (No matter what Kakashi tells you about how Obito as a kid always had this habit of looking away when he’s flustered).

It’s just…. this is the very first time he’s ever gotten any kind of gift on this day, and he's cycling through a tumult of confusing emotions. Because he’s seen firsthand the horrors of the world, he’s wrecked havoc, inspired terror and strife onto others. He’s an awful, terrible person who undoubtedly does not deserve to be alive while so many others caught up in his machinations are not.

And yet… that juvenile, hopelessly romantic side of him--which he's never been able to rid himself of, no matter how hard he's tried--is moved by your actions. In his youth, he often dreamt of things like requited confessions, kisses under the rain, the soft embrace of first love--all these pathetic, soft impulses and desires that had not yet been tarnished by war or the cruel reality of being a shinobi.

Your gift, as simple as it is, reminds him of all these things. It rushes through him, leaving an uncomfortable lump that he can’t swallow past in his throat.

And the shadowy underside of his thoughts creep forward, as they often do when he is faced with your unassuming acts of kindness: He hasn’t done anything to deserve this, to deserve you. The sins of his past will never be washed away, no matter how much he toils away. One day you will wake up and realize he’s not worth the dirty looks from villagers. That the effort to understand a man who does not even understand himself anymore, who has spent his whole life chasing after an impossible dream that has fallen to shambles, is a wasted one—

The hopeful glance from you has those thoughts abating, even for a second. With a flush of embarrassment, Obito realizes you've been waiting for him to open the gift. He undoes the bow, curious to see what you've given him.

It's a small box of chocolates. Each chocolate is decorated delicately, in various shades of pink and red. Cute, Obito thinks.

He glances up at you before popping a chocolate into his mouth. His eyes widen slightly at the decadent taste that spreads across his tongue.

“It’s--it's good. It’s really good.”

You beam up at him. “I put raspberry jam in some of them! I know you liked it last time I bought some.”

“You–” His eyes widen even more. “You made these? From scratch?”

“Yeah! It took me awhile to get the recipe right, but it was worth it.”

“Thank you,” he says again, his gaze softening. He holds his arm out, gathering you to him in a one-armed embrace, the other arm cradling the box of chocolates to his chest. He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. You press a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw, returning the favor. Time never seems to be in your favor though, as Obito begrudgingly lets go of you.

“I have to go.” 

“Have a great day!”

As Obito heads out, he makes amends with the fluttery feeling in his chest. He’s certainly too old to be touched by these kinds of things, but something about you has him feeling like he's back in his goofy, younger days, a side of him he thought was long gone to years of planning and trauma and–

Wait.

Fuck. Was he supposed to get you something back?

He stills. 

You’re surprised when the door slams opens. “'bito? Did you forget something--” The fervent crash of his lips against yours cuts you off.

It seems that he’s had enough time to process your gift. His large hands cup your cheeks. His lips move with the desperation of a man clinging to his lifeline, pressing firmly against yours, as if the answer to all his doubts can be found in the meeting of your two bodies.

“Thank you,” he says again, breathless, once he breaks the kiss. His eyes lidded and dark with the depth of his feelings. “I owe you."

He licks his lips. "L-Later today. Is that okay? I promise I'll make it worth your time."

JONIN!OBITO

Obito can think of three scenarios which come close to being as bad as this.

One. When Minato had him and Kakashi babysit an old man’s cat on a genin-level mission. Cats, despite being the Uchiha clan’s natural ally, have never liked him. It completely clawed his face up, and Rin had to tend to his scratches.

Two. When, as teenagers, he asked Rin out on a date, and during said date, she tearfully confessed her love for Kakashi. Unpleasant, certainly. Unexpected? Not really. What was unexpected was that Obito ended up being terribly allergic to something in the restaurant's udon, and his lips swelled up to twice their size.

Three, of course, is a few months back, when Kakashi left on a mission and asked him to train Team 7 for a day. No one told Obito that kids were this obnoxious to deal with. Not with his former sensei's kid screaming that he would best his cousin (Did Naruto realize the whole village could hear him? Was Obito ever this loud? Did Minato secretly invest in earplugs), his cousin acting like he was too damn smart to listen to anything Obito had to teach him (Itachi really should address his brother's superiority complex one day), and the one, normal person in their group, Sakura, clearing pining as desperately for his cousin as he did for Rin.

This scenario though? This may just make all the others pale in comparison.

The fact that Obito is supposed to propose to you today, but his months of careful planning is going up into flames, as if he'd burned them himself with his katon.

The fancy kaiseki ryori he got reservations for months back? Turns out they closed for renovations and he never got notice. Something about an intoxicated genin destroying the whole place while practicing his Drunken Fist technique.

Obito also intended to dress nicer for the occasion, to grab a shower and change maybe, but his mission ran late into the day, up until the very moment your dinner was planned. He had barely enough time to report to the Hokage before he was sprinting towards the restaurant, still wearing his jonin vest and ninja clothing.

He’s just hoping you won’t be mad at him.

He thumbs the ring in his pocket anxiously as he approaches the restaurant.

The two of you end up at the only place available on such short notice--the yakitori-ya, which is where your very first date was at. He curses his luck. It's not exactly the fancy setting he was hoping for--more like a date spot after a late night drinking or for casual dates--but he's out of options. Even flashing around the Uchiha name, which he hated doing, couldn't yield better results.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says as soon as he slides into the booth across from you. “The report took forever, and I swear the Hokage's advisors were trying to sabotage me. Why does it matter how many flower beds I saw on my way back here?" He ruffles his spiky hair in frustration.

You laugh. “It's okay, I’m used to it. You're always losing track of time, 'Bito."

He flushes slightly. "N-Not really... I've gotten better at it, haven't I?"

You hum thoughtfully. "Let's see... you do still get side-tracked by grandmas needing help carrying their groceries, by stray cats begging for food... Isn't that right?"

He flushes again, ducking his head down. Punctuality has never been his forte, but for him to be late on an important occasion like this. When he was going to--

"It's not intentional," he mutters.

"I'm just teasing," you tell him, reaching across the table for his hand, which he offers. "I already ordered us food. So tell me... how was the mission?"

Obito animatedly tells you about his past week, before lowering his voice at the top secret information that he as a jonin should not be sharing, but is anyways. The food arrives, plates of grilled meat on skewers generously filling your table.

He really should have more decorum, but he's starving. His anxiety also isn't helping. He ends up scarfing down the chicken skewers, talking in between taking giant bites of food. Thankfully, you seem to find it amusing, laughing at the way he chokes on a bite that was way too big for him to swallow. He gulps down his water, attempting vainly to act unperturbed.

You lean forward to grab another skewer, and Obito catches a glimpse of something red and lacy underneath your dress. He promptly ends up choking on his water again. Coughing, he thumps the front of his chest several times.

"Are you okay?"

He glances back at you, his face aflame. "I-I'm fine!" he says a little too loud. "I'm fine. Just... fine—“ It's then that he notices just what you're wearing that covers the red lace tease. A tight black dress that seems to accentuate every dip and crease of your figure.

His mouth suddenly seems dry, even though he just drank water. "You look nice. Uh, really nice. Really, really nice. Is that—is that new?"

"Dear, I think you're drooling a little."

He promptly snaps his mouth shut.

"And it is new! I thought I would wear it for the occasion. And you know... for later tonight," you murmur, voice laced with intentions.

"T-T-Tonight?" While he's nearly chugged down his entire drink, the admission has him jolting, his elbow knocking over his cup and spilling the small amount of liquid left. He’s aghast, rapidly dabbing the table with napkins.

You giggle, handing him your napkin as well. “You’re usually not this clumsy. You okay? Tired?”

“A little,” he admits. "I don't think I've gotten much sleep the past few days." You nod thoughtfully, looking slightly put out. "B-But that doesn't mean I can't! I'm—we can still—tonight? Yeah?"

He's flustered. How has he become so tongue-tied and nervous? It's like he's a fucking awkward teen again, for crying out loud. He fiddles with the ring in his pocket, suddenly remembering it's there.

"I-I was actually... well, I had a surprise for you, too."

“You mean other than taking us back to this place?”

He flushes.

"It was the only place that had last minute--I mean, the only place I could find a last minute spot at after my other reservations got cancelled!”

"We haven't been here since we first started dating, right?" you muse.

"Y-Yeah?"

You sigh wistfully. “It brings back memories.”

Come to think of it, he does remember what a disaster your first date was, at this same restaurant. Burning his tongue on the skewers from eating too fast, spilling his drink all over you on in his excitement when you complimented his skills. You must have found him so annoying. You still agreed to a second date.

He cringes. History really did repeat itself.

"Hopefully I'll make new ones," he mutters under his breath.

"What was that?"

It's now or never. Before he loses his courage.

"Marry me?" he blurts out, holding out what he thinks is the ring to you. Instead, it is his half-eaten skewer.

You blink.

"I... are you proposing to me with grilled meat?"

"Shit, I—" His other hand darts into his pocket, brandishing the ring. While his hands are slightly oily from the grease of the food, thankfully his grip doesn't slip.

"You make me the happiest man alive. I can't imagine... I don't even want to think about a future without you," he says heatedly.

It's then that Obito realizes he is supposed to be down on a knee. Shit. He curses a bit, before he kneels down before you, putting the ring back in its pocket and presenting it to you once more. It's a simple ring, engraved with the Uchiha crest.

He glances up at you hopefully.

Or tries to. Obito once again gravely miscalculates in his nervousness. His head smacks the bottom of the table as he looks up—hard.

"Fuck!"

He clutches the side of his head, rubbing at it. His vision goes cross for a second.

Then it's your hands, softer and kinder that cradle his head.

"Babe, are you alright?" you say in disbelief. "You're so clumsy today."

This is supposed to be his moment to be smooth. To make things smooth.

"Sorry," he murmurs against your shirt. "You've got my head on backwards, I swear... I'm so wound up today, and everything keeps going—goddamnit. Can one thing go right?" he starts ranting. "I was hoping you'd say yes—"

"Yes."

"Ah--wait. Do you... do you mean it?"

"Yes. I do. I'd love to marry you, Obito Uchiha."

You reach for the ring, but then pause. "Um, maybe after you wipe that off,” you say, referring to the grease. "And we ice your head?"

You said yes. You said yes. What happens after that point, Obito does not even care about. Once he's back up, he gathers you in a tight hug.

"Thank you. Thank you so much--I--I'll be the best husband, I promise. Someone to make you proud...!"

And as the two of you walk home from the disastrous date, Obito cannot help but keep his arms around you. Unable to bite back down the giddy feeling.

Until something occurs to him.

"You didn't seem that surprised," he says.

"Oh! Yeah. The Uchiha blacksmith who made the ring kept asking if I liked it. Says you ordered it awhile ago, and he's surprised you haven't manned up and given it to me yet."

"Ah…. You—you knew this whole time I would…?”

He's such a loser.

But he's your loser.

And you like him, despite it all.

MODERN!AU, arranged marriage, Obito as CEO of Uchiha Corps.

The smell of chocolate fills the air.

Obito pauses at the doorway. It's been... strange, having someone else in his space. In his home. Living with a stranger who you know you are soon to be wed to, despite knowing each other for such little time.

The thought still makes him a bit restless. He was initially averse to the idea. When he was younger, he dreamt of things like true love and romantic gestures. Not being forced to marry a complete stranger.

But then the incident that left half his body scarred happened, and that severely jeopardized those dreams. Then his uncle's whims. Madara, once he wanted something, rarely wavered.

"The Uchiha Corp. needs an heir, and you do not have any options at this point. Our clan's legacy will not be left to rot should you not find a suitable spouse. If that's the case—if your skills are lacking in that area—I will find one for you."

Ouch.

Obito hated following Madara's orders, but it seems that not much has changed from his childhood. Being forced into roles he has little interest in, being forced to uphold a certain image.

Doesn't mean he has to like it. Or accept it easily.

It's not that he dislikes you. In fact, Obito would say you're quite lovely in many ways. You actually seem to have several of the qualities he's liked in his crushes before (all unrequited). You're kind and patient, and you even have a bit of a temper, if anything is proven by how easily you slip into crass language.

It's just. It's not his choice. He didn't get to choose to meet you. It's not like the two of you met in a coffee shop or at the market, by chance, as love should be.

And that makes him resentful.

He supposes it all came to a head three nights ago, where he threw words and accusations at you like barbed wires. And you had responded in kind.

"What's in this for you again? Money, status? Want to bang the next head of Uchiha Corp. so you can live a life of lavishness?"

You blink. Quickly getting over your surprise, your mouth sets in a firm line as you respond with, "Are you always this fucking rude to people? Or am I just lucky?"

His eyes narrow. "Answer the question. What are you trying to get out of this?"

You're upset. The harsh furrow to your brow says it all.

"Uchiha... I'm not just someone you can boss around. I'm not one of your damn lackeys. And I'm not just going to sit around pretty and subservient if you're gonna be this damn rude to me."

The two of you continue to sleep in separate rooms and beds, as you have been for the past month, but this time, the distance leaves Obito with the queasy feeling of a fight unresolved. The two of you haven't spoken since, thankfully your schedules so different that you don't spend much time together.

After reflecting on it, he supposes you are just as much implicated in this as he is. You don't seem too eager to get married either. That gives Obito a small measure of relief.

Along with the realization that he's being an ass and making things more difficult for you.

Reconciliation though—he's not the best at. Which is why he's lingering in the doorway to the kitchen, working up the courage to approach you. Are you mad, he wonders? Anyone would be mad at being spoken to that way.

You seem to be cooking... sweets? Baking? And just as Obito works up the courage to say something, you lock gazes.

Before you promptly glance away, as if you haven't even seen him.

Ouch.

"Morning," he says deciding to break the ice.

You blink at him. "Oh. Good morning."

"You're up... early."

"Yeah. I was making chocolates." At his look of confusion, you clarify. "For you know.... Valentine's..."

"Oh. Yes."

So awkward. The tension thick enough to cut a knife through.

Are any of those for me? Obito dares to think foolishly, before you reply with,

"I was planning on eating all of these in front of you out of spite. But I suppose you could have one," you say offhandedly.

Obito flinches. "I... guess I deserve that."

"Maybe just a crumb of a chocolate. Ant-size."

He inhales deeply. Patience. "Also deserved."

You look at him curiously, as if you are not expecting his contriteness.

"...I'm just kidding. I did make some of these for you."

Obito's head snaps up. He stares at you cautiously.

"Do you... not like chocolates?"

"No, I—I do! I just... I was an ass to you."

"You were," you acknowledge.

"I wanted to... I wanted to apologize for—for being so..." While usually an eloquent speaker when the time came for him to compose himself, he's at a loss for words. How does he explain it? He's sorry for being such an ass. He's sorry for taking out his frustrations about love towards you. He's sorry he's being an absolute awful excuse for a fiance—

You approach him, and he looks up, only for you press one of the chocolates against his lips. He looks stunned.

"Try it? I... hope I used the sugar and not salt this time."

He hesitates.

"I'm kidding!"

He takes it into his mouth hesitantly, his gaze fixated on you. He chews slowly, savoring the taste.

"It's good. Even if you did use salt."

Your eyes widen. "Oh no. Did I really..." And then you catch sight of his face, alight with mirth. "You absolute liar, you had me worried for a sec."

"You started it!"

The two of you share a laugh. This is... nice. Unexpected. Obito was hardly expecting to be able to joke around like this with you.

That reminds him. He leaves the kitchen to grab something from the doorstep, returning with something hidden behind his back.

"These um, these are for you."

He holds his hands out bashfully. A colorful bouquet of flowers sits in his hand, freshly delivered to his door.

"Oh." You seem surprised, taking the gift from him with a curious look. "Thanks! I'm allergic."

His eyes widen. "You're not actually..." Shit. How awkward.

"I'm just kidding. It takes two to lie."

You crack a grin, and despite himself, Obito can't help but roll his eyes. His chest feeling oddly light, being able to joke around with you like this.

He doesn't know you yet. He doesn't know you enough to like you yet. But interactions like this give him hope that maybe... maybe things won't be that bad.

"Do you like udon?" Obito asks suddenly, remembering a local place that had good ratings. It was by reservation only, but he could pull some strings.

"Um, no."

"Oh..." He deflates slightly. There goes his plans for the udon date.

"I do like ramen though?” you offer. “And I know a good place…”

As the two of you embark on your first official date together, Obito realizes that maybe… maybe it wouldn’t be awful to get married to someone like you.

Maybe it would be fun, even.

CANON!OBITO, obsessed with the Tsuki No Me plan

When one does not have a heart, they cannot love.

When one’s heart is empty, love is also futile.

These are two things Obito knows with certainty.

The third is this: He could never love you in this cruel, harsh reality.

You want his affection, his desire. Stability, consistency. Someone to call home at the end of the day.

But his love?

His love is a bundle of thorns, amidst which a single, wilted rose lies.

He cannot love you in the way most men should. He will not choose you over the Tsuki No Me plan. When the choice comes down to it, he will discard you if you interfere with his will.

And you’ll yell at him, call him names. Tell him he’s delusional.

But do not think that it’s because he doesn’t care. If you know anything about him, it’s that his love runs deep enough to wage wars, to raze down villages, to have the seas run red with the blood of his enemies.

Even if you do not see his perspective, he is merciful. You will be still be able to live a peaceful life in the Infinite Tsukiyomi.

You and him were not meant to be together in this world. Not in a world where children are sent to war, where villages pile bodies upon bodies to achieve a means to an end. Where his love can be nothing but a poison that seeps into you with a single prick.

But in the world of the Infinite Tsukiyomi, anything is possible.

You and him could be the most loving couple. You, his dearest spouse, waiting for him in the kitchen after a long day, the perfect scene of domesticity. He, your loving husband, would kiss you, wrap his arms around your waist. His hands rubbing over your stomach as he buries his face into your neck, murmuring words of affection.

Things would be perfect. Far unlike the cruel, twisted world the two of you lived in now.

A life of eternal bliss.

And you would be none the wiser that it’s all a dream.

TOBI

“Whaaa, what’s with all the decorations, senpai?”

The three of you were sent on a mission near Kusagakure, and once it ended, decided to check out the village. The main square in is alight with decor, red and pink streamers hanging off food stands, flowers and everywhere the eye could see. 

Deidara snorts. “It’s Valentine’s Day, Tobi.” When the masked man cocks his head to the side, he rolls his eyes. “That shitty holiday where you get chocolates from girls.”

“Ah. Did senpai get any chocolates?”

“Tch, ‘course!” The blond crosses his arms, giving his partner a smug look. “I was so popular back in Iwa, girls would line up to give me their goodies.”

Tobi tilts his head. “I doubt that.”

“Why you—“

As Deidara and Tobi bicker, you walk closer to one of the stands, admiring the intricate bouquets. The life of a shinobi, especially in the Akatsuki, is often treacherous. It’s nice at times to sit back and enjoy the world around you. Not to mention how rare to have this much down time between missions, so you take full advantage of it, admiring the sights and sounds around you. 

“Do you see something you like?”

Tobi approaches you from behind, rubbing his head pitifully. You can only assume that given Deidara’s short temper and Tobi’s wily mouth, that he must have clocked him. 

“The flowers here are pretty,” you note, staring at the designs wistfully.

“Would you like some?” 

He poses the question in the same childlike manner he does everything.

You turn to your companion, observing the mysterious orange mask hiding his face. Tobi has always been an intriguing person, if not rather juvenile. At times you have to wonder if his obliviousness an act. Or if perhaps the shinobi world has broken him in this specific way.

Either way, the leader must find some value in his presence in the Akatsuki.

You smile. “No, I’m okay. You should really only give gifts to people you like on this day.”

“I like you!” Tobi says brightly. 

“Romantically,” you add, assuming once more Tobi’s innocence. Whether forced or not. “You should ideally gift someone you like in a romantic sense.”

You observe the other flowers, not noticing the way his mask dips slightly, as he also seems to survey the offerings.

“But I—oh, Deidara-senpai, there you are!” he says. once the blonde has caught up with you two. “Can I borrow some?”

“You broke idiot, don’t tell me you haven’t gotten paid yet!” He scoffs. “What’s it for anyways?”

“To buy them a flower!” He points at you.

“Tobi, it’s fine. Having to carry a flower around with me would be impractical anyways…” You’ve greatly debated it, but it’s true. The journey back to base is a long one, and no doubt you would end up ruining the flowers before then.

Deidara scrutinizes you, and then glances back at Tobi. He glances between you two a few more times with nothing short of suspicion. “…What? You got a crush or something, yeah?“

“A crush? Is that who you should give flowers to?”

“Ha, Tobi, I think you’re out of your league here. Anyone with two eyes would realize that.”

“Funny you say that… I don’t even think you can see out of two eyes, senpai! Not with your hair covering half your face.”

“You damned brat—“

You let the matter go, deciding that with this duo, the less said is the more peaceful. Sighing softly, you walk away to look at another stall, leaving them to argue again. While you couldn’t take one, you could only dream.

When you return to the base, it’s your surprise to find a flower laid out on your bed later that night. It’s a light red carnation, looking like it was picked straight out of a field.

Next to the flower is a note. The handwriting is messy, with an undeniably childish scrawl.

“I hope you like the flower I picked! The lady agreed to give me one when I told her it’s for a special friend!”

[honey-oak-recs]

wake up call

CHAPTER I OF BETTER OFF THAN DEAD

pairing: mattsukawa issei x hanamaki takahiro x f!reader

about: your peace is disrupted when a visitor you aren't expecting storms into your home and you feel compelled to help him.

word count: around 800

content: chapter in present tense, no happy ending (sorry, preemptively warning everyone of this), zombie apocalypse au, enemies to lovers, mattsun and makki are an established pair. mentions of injury, food, weaponry (handgun) in this chapter but no overt violence.

There are times when you first wake up that you insist it feels just like it did before everything happened. 

Before the illness, before the terror, before the uncertainty. Just you in your bed, hair splayed across a firm but not too firm pillow. The mornings feel calm, safe, and you swear you can almost smell coffee from the fancy machine your parents bought you for Christmas when you first moved out of their house and out on your own. It had a timer and you were lucky enough to rise every morning to the aroma; a luxury you took for granted back then. You can barely recall the way coffee tastes now.

The sun shines through your curtains, now moth-ravaged and filled with holes, shining over the small dust mites that float through the air. Cleanliness is the least of your concerns at this point, dusting has long fallen off of your daily to-do list with each new challenge to keep yourself alive. Every day is a challenge in and of itself - a clean and lemon scented apartment will have to wait until your future is more certain.

It takes just a moment after your eyes open to remember that things are decidedly not how they used to be. Especially the rustling you can hear from downstairs. 

“God damn it,” you mutter as you sling your threadbare blanket off of your legs. Rushing to arm yourself, you feel around blindly on the wooden floor beneath your mattress, hoping your gun is where you left it. When your fingers touch cool metal, you quickly scoop up the hand gun, knowing you keep it loaded just in case you have to use it. It’s practically an appendage at this point in your life.

You’re dressed in nothing but the remnants of an old t-shirt with a hem that brushes against the tops of your knees and your underwear but you stuff your feet into slightly too small boots to stomp down the stairs and hopefully scare off whoever is down there rifling through the Tylenol and canned goods. Usually the sound of you coming is enough to alert anyone that they shouldn’t be there, uncertain of what is coming down to greet them.

“You have five seconds to get the fuck out or I’ll start shooting!”

Your voice rings through the stairwell where you’re situated halfway and you hear the voices downstairs stop for just a moment, the sound of a bottle of pills rolling across the floor the only sound you recognize besides your own heart beating in your ears.

“Hello?”

The greeting is small, tentative. The voice clearly belongs to a man and you curse yourself for feeling your heart soften at the way he sounds - vulnerable. As if he wouldn’t be here unless he had to be. You’ve heard that tone many times from desperate mothers or wives, friends and family begging for the opportunity to get supplies or help or something, something, in a time where even a little inconsequential something is valuable. 

You sigh, keeping your back pressed against the wall as you gingerly peek around the wall and notice a head of chestnut colored hair standing a good head above the small shelves in the pharmacy you live above. Only able to make out the very top of the head, you duck back against the wall before placing your hands strategically on your pistol.

“What do you want?”

Practiced and steady, you remind yourself that there is no time to have second thoughts in the world you currently occupy. A second thought could mean a painful death. Sympathy is for the weak, after all - you’ve made the mistake of caring before. Taking a grounding breath, you press your shoulder closer to the wall and watch as the man carefully steps toward the stairwell. You can barely make out the way his eyes dart across the dusty and debris covered floor, stepping over small bottles and glass.

“My friend…” The stranger starts and you snort, the sound bouncing off of the safe walls you currently stand between. You shake your head and he can hear the sound of your hair rubbing against the wall behind you. He shifts from foot to foot, awkwardly clutching one of his arms as he stops in his tracks and waits for your further instruction. 

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t need to be,” he insists after your silence lasts longer than comfortable. He doesn’t hear the sound of your weapon loading or any sign of movement from you and it fills him with anxiety. He isn’t like his friend, he struggles to handle these types of things on his own.

Uncertain of your next move, Makki feels his mind wander to Mattsun, wondering how he’s doing on his own.

[honey-oak-recs]

laundry

part of the domesticación series

artwork by @/taichouu

content: a glimpse into your daily life with grimmjow. fluff. no content warnings. around 1k words, keeping it pretty sweet and to the point (me when im lying!). i love my grimmothy and i hope u love him too. thanks for reading! hope you like it!

“How the fuck do you do this?”

The gruff voice surprises you from where you stand at the kitchen counter, reaching into the cabinet above your head to grab two mugs for coffee, one emblazoned with your first initial in gold and the other with his. The golden G makes you smile as you pull it down, rubbing your thumb over the reflective surface.

“Do what, Grimmjow?”

You shout back, unsure of what his response would be given it was coming from a corner of the house where he remains reluctant to dwell - the laundry room. It’s small, basically a thoroughfare with a washing machine and dryer stacked on top of each other, and he doesn’t like feeling claustrophobic - a quirk of his you learned about rather quickly when fighting with him about leaving the shower curtain open.

Grabbing the mugs and placing them at the edge of the counter, you walk back toward where your live-in (you aren’t sure what he is to you) friend tinkers with the buttons on the front of the dryer. You hear little musical pings coming from the machine and feel your blood run cold when you see suds oozing from the drum of the stopped machine. 

“Hi,” you pause, mouth drawn in a line as he glances at you from the corner of his eye. “Can you explain what’s happening here?”

Trying to remain calm, you watch as the large man occupying the small space throws his hands up in defeat and grunts in frustration. White suds continue to fill your floor, the scent more appealing than the situation itself, an overwhelming lavender aroma filling the small space. Rolling your shoulders, you watch his slump as he slinks past you and stands in the doorway, steps sloshing across the floor. “I don’t know! I did exactly what you showed me to do.”

There’s no way Grimmjow did exactly what you asked him to do or else your floor wouldn’t be covered in water.

He’s pouting, his first defense against anything frustrating, and you reach out for him and rub his bicep reassuringly. “It’s fine, we can clean it up. Will you grab some towels please?”

You listen as his wet footsteps slap across the floor on the way to the other side of your apartment and try to take a cleansing breath, wondering how you ended up in ankle deep suds listening to a closet door slam on the other side of the wall. 

When Grimmjow first began to occupy your space, you told yourself it would be temporary. You only wanted to be a safe place for him to land until he could figure out what he would be doing next, he was a stranger in a strange land. Deep down you know you could have never lived with yourself had you just turned him loose to reign terror elsewhere.

Keep reading

[honey-oak-recs]

morning

kaminari denki x reader // bnha // vday snippet // fluff

Kaminari Denki was a romantic at heart, and Valentine’s Day provided ample opportunity for him to shower you in gifts and affection. He had planned the day out perfectly. He would wake up before you to make heart-shaped waffles (thankfully, he’d found a box of frozen ones at the supermarket; you’d practically banned him from the kitchen after he tried to use his quirk to power the toaster and nearly started a house fire in the process). You’d shower him in kisses for bringing you breakfast in bed, telling him how he was the best and how much you loved him, and the two of you would spend the morning lazily watching romcoms, before heading to dinner at your favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurant in town. 

Or at least, that’s what would have happened, but Kaminari forgot he had a late-night patrol the day before. He promptly knocked out once he got home, sleeping past all of his alarms.

When he awoke blearily, shaking his head of the remnants of drowsiness, he panicked once he realized two things: one, you weren’t curled up by his side anymore, the spot next to him on the bed cold, and two—he glanced at the clock, eyes widening—how had he slept in until the afternoon? He groaned, falling backwards onto the sheets, throwing a pillow over his face. Damn, he had really missed his chance to wow you—

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” you teased from the doorway, and Kaminari jolted upright, apologies on his lips about sleeping in, but you shushed him. “I figured you’d be tired after patrol. I made you breakfast.” 

He blinked. “Y-You did?” He said lamely. He was about to protest that he was supposed to make you breakfast, but was cut off by his stomach growling—loudly. He grinned sheepishly at your laugh, scratching the back of his head. You made your way over to the bed, placing a kiss on the top of his head before depositing the two plates of food on his lap. You crawled over him to get to your side. 

Kaminari’s eyes widening once he took the sight in, handing you a plate. “Woah, you really went all out, huh?” He grinned. “All this, just for me?”

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your mouth. “I mean, since your Super Secret Valentine’s Day Breakfast was foiled.” He spluttered, asking how you knew about them, and you laughed. “Denki… you’re terrible at hiding things you know that? Also, it’s mm, not hard to figure out when you wrote a reminder on the calendar in the kitchen.” 

Kaminari blinked. Shit, he’d forgotten to erase that…

“Besides, you and I both know you’re a disaster in the kitchen.” You chuckled.

“Babe, they were frozen waffles! Heart-shaped ones too! Anyone could make them!”

“Mm, you do know we still need a new toaster though, right? And microwave. After you broke them.”

He gave you a puzzled look. “You mean we can’t defrost them over fire? Like on the stove?”

“Ummm, no—I mean…maybe? Just—just no, Denki,” you said, silently thanking whatever god there was out there that he overslept and wasn’t able to burn down the kitchen again. You still had flashbacks of him setting your toaster ablaze.

“Huh. Guess I messed up.” He sighed, staring gloomily at his plate. You grabbed a strawberry from it, poising it at his lips. He opened his mouth, swallowing it, before staring at you inquisitively. 

“You know, if you’re going to look at my cooking all sad like that, I’m going to get the wrong idea.”

His eyes widened. “N-No, I love it!” He said, digging in heartily. You laughed, leaning back to watch him enjoy his food. You weren’t going to lie… seeing Denki like this, in his adorable lightning-strike pajamas, with his hair mussed… so lively and buoyant, even this early in the morning… it reminded you why you fell in love with him.

“Did you say something?” You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts. He cocked his head to the side. “You were mumbling.”

“Ah, it’s nothing.” You smiled. 

“You know, (Y/N),” Kaminari said through a mouthful of food. He swallowed. “I know I say this a lot, but…” He glanced at you, pink on his cheeks. “I love you,” he said earnestly.

“I-I love you two, you dork.”

He smiled, taking another bite of food and moaning happily. “God, this tastes amazing, babe. What do I have to do to repay you?”

“Mm, I was thinking a day of chilling in bed and watching shows sounds good. And maybe…” You drew lines into the blanket, staring up at him coyly through your lashes. “A kiss or two?”

His mouth hung open, and you made a face. “Denki, not with food in your mouth!” He apologized, swallowing roughly and nearly choking. He scrabbled for the water on his table, downing it before turning to you, red-faced.

“A-A kiss? Yeah. S-Sure. No problem. I can… I can do that!”

“You’re acting like I’m asking to molest you,” you teased.

“N-No! It’s just…. You never ask this directly. I’m…” He coughed. “I’m shocked.”

You took a deep breath, your own cheeks flushed. “W-Well Denki, can I have a kiss then?”

“Of course! Anything for you,” he said quickly. And he meant it. He leaned in to press his lips against yours. 

When he pulled away, you stared at him pensively. He fidgeted, nervous about the look you were sending him. “Y-Yeah?”

“Hm… how about a kiss for every appliance of ours you’ve broken. So that means two, maybe three?”

He grinned, rubbing the back of his head. “Jeez, that’s not fair… we’ll be here all day then.” 

“Better start counting then,” you teased, pulling him towards you for another one.

[honey-oak-recs]

day 2, amon: masks

kinktobruary day 2

amon x reader // masked sex

summary: amon is an enigmatic leader, but someone you would follow till the end of time. it doesn’t bother you that you’ll never see the man behind the mask. really.

tw/cw: 18+ only, minors dni, masks, under the table BJs, not really kinky till the end? more introspective/character study

word count: 1.8K

Amon never takes his mask off.

You’ve grown intimately aware of Amon in one kind of way, in the manners of flesh, in the way bodies can move and fit against each other in different configurations under the moonlight, but he remains as closed off as ever in every other aspect of his life. He remains a man of mystery.

Even now, as you work your hands over his throbbing length, he betrays little beneath the mask. If you weren’t attuned to the unique signs of his arousal—the way his breath catches ever so slightly when you curve your wrist, the narrowing of his dark gaze, the tendency for his fingers to twitch and grasp at something, as if he’s not used to being at someone’s mercy—you wouldn’t be able to tell he was enjoying this. But because you’ve grown used to staring up at those dark eyes and what little of himself he offers during these intimate moments, these are things you can count on. Things that make Amon somewhat less of a figure, and more of a human.

In contrast, you’re bare. He doesn’t ask you to bare yourself to him, but he does ask that you take your mask off. He says it’s so he doesn’t forget your face, but you know Amon. You know his keen eye to detail, his attention to body language. You’re sure that he could recognize you in a crowd.

You wonder if he just wants it to feel less impersonal to him. And maybe part of you hopes that, by letting him see you like this, bared open, he’ll also decide to bare some of himself to you.

Regardless of masks, there is another clear indicator of his arousal—the hard column of flesh in your grasp that throbs at your every expert movement.

He sighs raggedly, and you take it as a sign to lean down and pucker your lips around the head of his cock. There’s not much of a scent to Amon. He smells clean, like soap, with a hint of ruggedness, like pine. When you take him deeper into your mouth, his breath hitches ever so slightly, and he starts making short, quick thrusts into your mouth.

“Now,” he says, and you pull off, substituting your hand for your mouth. Amon is a kind man; when he finishes, he never makes you swallow his release. It dribbles into your fist, and you’re reaching for a tissue.

Then he’s getting up, buckling his pants. All business, no time for loitering. “...Good work,” he says, with the air of a man who is used to giving commands, but there’s a tinge of hesitance, a keen attention to his phrasing, as if he himself is not sure of where the boundaries he’s drawing are. 

Nonetheless, as you nod, murmur a thank you to him as he slips out and stands guard so you can get dressed in peace, his hooded eyes imprinted into your thoughts. The image stays with you throughout the day.

—

Amon, you learn, is a man of restraint. Even when he’s hard underneath you, above you, inside of you, he rarely cracks his calm, measured demeanor. And even the cracks you do see are hairline tears in his persona. 

The night you started this affair of yours, though, is an entirely different beast. It was a victory for the Equalists, after one of the rallies amassed over a thousand spectators. The movement was growing, your voices gaining more and more traction. Back at the base, there was fanfare, celebrations. You had one too many drinks of Narook’s special mix, and even Amon, amidst the celebrations, decided to indulge in one or two. He caught you in a corridor, and amidst his commendation of the way you’d taken down benders in your last raid, something shifted in the air. At some point, the two of you grinding against each other like teenagers, your mouth nipping at every bit of exposed flesh on his neck... Amon lifted his mask just enough to sloppily press his lips against your neck. You remember the warmth of his lips, like the rice wine warming both your bodies.

While Amon’s goal as leader of the Equalists is to give everyone a fair chance, to level the playing field, in the bedroom, he rarely extends that to you. Amon in the bedroom is a force to be reckoned with, all commands and heated looks, and rough caresses. He has you wrapped around his finger, and all he has to do is glance at you. 

He took you on the simple couch in his office, the legs creaking menacingly with every one of his sharp, efficient thrusts. Efficient. That was how he liked to  fuck, much like how he led. But throughout the night, it was a mesh of both efficiency and fervor. Fire and ice.  Almost as if Amon himself was struggling with these own urges.

And in the end, when he was grunting out your name, his release drying cool on your thigh, he handed you his shirt to clean the mess. It was a small act, and he said nothing to accompany it, but the way he reclined next to you and your breaths moved in tandem said everything you needed to know.

—

He glances at you from the corner of his eye, just a glimpse, his hand hovering over your head. You always feel small under Amon’s grip, under the hands that could take away people’s bending, that are capable of taking on the Avatar herself, but this time even more so. The Lieutenant drones on and on about the next phase of the Equalists’ plan in this impromptu meeting: the takeover of City Hall. Your own hand is wrapped around Amon’s throbbing, stiff flesh under the table as he takes charge and lays out their line of attack. 

While the two of you are usually not this risky, you had little time to prepare, since the Lieutenant and his men had burst into the room just as you lowered to the ground. Amon quickly scooted you deeper under the table, and to all extents and purposes, looked nearly unaffected, if it weren’t for the exaggerated stillness to his form. 

A lick to the head of his cock has his fingers tangling in your hair, tightening in warning, his gaze discretely roving over to you. And then, when you slip the head between your lips, he leans forward slightly. The meeting drags on, Amon tightening his grip every so often when your sucking gets too exuberant. Papers are shuffled around, voices rise in argument, and then, as the door to his office open and the members of his task force slip out, he slips you onto his desk, his mouth hard and unyielding on yours. You feel the barest hint of stubble against your cheek, and you press harder against him, but then’s parted from you, his mask slipping back over his chin. 

The way his hands maneuver your body to a position he likes is as fluid as water. Almost smoother than the way he slips off both your pants, his girth parting you. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders. 

Something about trying to fuck in Amon’s office while the Lieutenant and his Equalists hover just outside has you feeling more on edge. Each of his thrusts feel like they split you to your very core, and you eventually have to bite down on his shoulder. He groans at the pain, his hips slapping rougher against yours.

“Hold on, I need to tell Amon something,” you hear, just outside his door. As the sound of footsteps draw closer, the both of you still. The air between you stills as well. Oddly enough, you can feel Amon’s muscles flexing, almost imperceptibly, balls deep as he is inside of you. The doorknob rattles, then there’s a pause. There’s the sound of choking, then a howl of pain from outside. Eventually their voice grows quieter, whether with distance or pain, you can’t tell. But it almost sounds as if they’re being dragged away against their will...

“What was—”

Amon silences you by hilting himself in you once more. Your breath catches, and he starts rolling his hips into you with a frenzy. He fucks you hard and fast, almost invigorated by the thrill of nearly getting caught. When he grasps your thighs, dragging you closer to him as he buries his length into you, you cry out. His next thrusts misses its mark, his dick sliding against your mound before his release splatters in ropes onto your stomach. You’re trembling, adrenaline rushing through your veins as his gloved fingers brush against your clit, rubbing furiously to stimulate your hypersensitive nerves until you also reach your end, your entrance clenching around nothing.

Amon pants into your shoulder, his breaths echoing against the hollow wood of his mask, and for one, measly moment, your fingers twitch with the yearning to take it off. You’ve often fantasized about what he looks like. To your knowledge, he’s never showed anyone outside of the Lieutenant. You could picture him—a strong jawline, piercing, intense eyes… but that urge dissipates as your fingers trail across his mask, towards the top of his mussed hair before smoothing it back.

He stiffens against your touch. There’s a pause as if he’s attempting to comprehend the domestic action. When he addresses you, the ice glazing his usual commands is gone, replaced by the lull of waves right before a typhoon approaches.

“We have a rally in ten.”

“...Of course.”

“I trust you’ll make it there alright?” He pulls away from you, his eyes searching you, looking for something Loyalty, perhaps? Your feelings? 

You bare them all to him, as you have nothing left to lose. 

“Yes, sir.”

As you’re putting your pants back on, feeling oddly dejected, for whatever reason, he stops you with a clearing of his throat.

“After… After the Equalists manage to bring down Republic City, perhaps we can… celebrate.” He hesitates. “In... other ways as well.”

You smile softly. “Yes, sir, I would like that.”

Amon may not be the most transparent leader, but you would follow him through the shipwreckage of the modern bending world. Perhaps he sees you as little more than an outlet, and you;re fine with that, really. You would take what little he offered you and make the most of it, as you had done with most or your circumstances.

And when it came down to it, maybe the man who was inside you was a man who didn’t even know himself, much less was someone for you to attempt to piece together. Still, in those moments where your bodies stayed connected past the cool of his ardor, and he seemed reluctant to leave… He never seemed more human than then.

[honey-oak-recs]

some very horny thoughts/hcs about trans reigen, featuring some edging and overstimulation, him sitting on your face, and uhhhhh a vibrator and a strap on i think that's it (also he's still aspec bc.... I Just Felt Like It)

first of all gotta throw in some aspec reigen rep here as always bc i got to thinking about him first starting t and having to deal with the uptick in his sex drive and just sitting there like "am i actually experiencing more desire or is it just the chemicals making me horny? guess i'll go jerk off about it either way"

he starts off really sketchy about it because he doesn't really know how to bring it up or deal with it but soon enough it becomes "ugh i have to go jerk off again, you coming with?" to which your answer is basically always yes.

has to use a lot of lube and oh god the noises. if he doesn't want to listen to it dripping out around his fingers as he fucks himself his only other option is to stop muffling his moans and whines so that he's louder than it, and he's honestly not sure which option is more embarrassing. he already looks very thoroughly fucked out and debauched but the extra red tint at the tips of his ears and the hand in front of his face are just the cherry on top of the absolutely perfect sundae that is watching him work himself open.

praise kink doubling as gender euphoria?? hello? he already loves it when you call him a good boy because he loves feeling appreciated and it settles his nerves when he knows he's doing a good job. but also hearing you repeatedly acknowledge that you don't see him as any less of a man soothes what's left of his uncertainty and lets him relax more and more into it with every time you say it

it would take a little bit of reassurance to get him to sit on your face but when he finally does?? he is so GRABBY. and he can't decide which way he'd rather face because if he faces forward he can put his hands in your hair and grind down against you and you seem to really like that and it feels really good. but if he faces backward he gets to look at your body and anchor his hands on your hips and watch how you press your thighs together every time he grinds down a little harsher than usual and he loves giving you surprise touches because it means your hips jerk up and you moan against him and that also feels really good.

can't really handle vibrators except for really short bursts because his clit is so sensitive, and in practice that usually leads to you edging him over and over. you'll turn it on until he gets loud and squirmy and super close to coming, and he starts begging for you to turn it off because it's so good it's too much, grabbing for your wrist with hands that aren't quite cooperating with the rest of his body. so you turn it off, leaving it pressed against him until his breathing evens out, making sure there's enough lube for him to still be comfortable and moving your fingers to fuck it into him so slowly that he'll start pleading that it's not enough. you'll press the vibrator against him a little harder, teasing him that he should really make up his mind, and he promises he'll be good, he can take it this time, but it just starts the cycle all over.

when he gives you the warning he can only take one more round you'll pull it away to cycle around to a lower setting, keeping it as still as you can so he can press against it or pull away at whatever pace he needs without interruption. your fingers inside him will go still too, curling up to give him constant pressure but also acting as a sort of anchor that keeps him from pulling away too far so he doesn't accidentally edge himself again.

really likes fucking you with a strap-on, especially if it's a little more realistic looking. he doesn't mind the fun colors if he's using it on you other times, but if it's in the strap he really likes the visual and idea that it's like he's the one fucking you (without having to deal with any of the overwhelming sensations that would usually come with it).

if he wants to drag it out he'll have you ride him so he can watch your face the whole time, carefully gauging when to speed up and slow down just enough to tease. if you start to speed up too much on your own he'll latch on to your hips and dig his nails in, guiding your hips to keep a slower pace until he surprises you by snapping his hips up. lives for the way you collapse forward against him and choke out his name every time he does it.

[honey-oak-recs]

Summary: ✧･ﾟ: * Reigen has Serizawa blindfolded and tied down to the bed. What the self-proclaimed psychic has in store for him tonight is a simple case of "fuck around and find out". And boy, does he find out.

Rating: Explicit (18+ Minors/Ageless blogs DNI)

Word Count: 1.4K+

Contains: Smut (18+), unspecified anatomy (Reigen), cis or trans!Reigen applicable :), light bondage, blindfolds, nipple play, ass play, hand/blow jobs, dirty talk, cum eating, light biting, praise kink, softdom Reigen, sub Serizawa

A/N: I wrote this back in November for some friends and just realized this is fic-worthy! I usually write reader-inserts, but I like to dip my toes sometimes. Indulge, Serirei fuckers.

Serizawa tried his hardest not to fidget too much as Reigen littered feathery kisses over his chest. He could feel the warm exhale of air against his neck as he dragged his lips across his collarbones before he started sucking the skin there. The bigger man squeaked a noise and sucked in a breath at the feeling of his teeth pressing into the meaty junction between his neck and shoulder. He felt Reigen’s hands on his chest, groping the soft flesh and massaging it as he sucked harder and bit down on his neck. When he released his swollen lips, Reigen flattened his tongue and soothed the tingling mark he left behind. He picked another spot near his jaw to suckle on while the hands playing with his plushy chest slid lower to circle one of his hardened nipples, twisting and squeezing gently between his fingers. A needy moan slipped past Serizawa’s lips as he pulled on his restraints.

“Arataka…” He felt the man smile against his skin and chuckle behind his ear.

“Mmm? Feel good, handsome?” Reigen punctuated by running a hot tongue over the shell of his ear. The man shivered violently. His head rocked back from the sensitivity but didn’t go far as he was trapped by his own arms on either side of his face, hands bound together above him. He wasn’t meant to go anywhere. Tied down and blindfolded on the bed taking what he was given… that’s where Serizawa belonged.

With the blindfold on, every grazing of skin and gentle groan amplified in his head… even the softest whispers were heightened, forcing the esper to rely solely on his physical senses. Reigen ground his clothed hips into Seri’s very naked ones. The rough material of his trousers rubbing up against his throbbing erection had him wailing out and struggling to buck up in time to match their rhythm. Serizawa desperately rolled his hips up and brushed his hard-on against Reigen’s, choking out a shaky moan. Reigen started to nibble on his ear lobe, blowing hot steady air against his stubbly face. “I asked you a question, ‘Tsuya.”

Serizawa took a moment to respond through his soft moans, mouth parted slightly as he pieced his mind back together. The man on top of him pinched his dark nipple with a little more pressure. Serizawa cried out.

“Y-Yes! Yes, yes, yes… It feels so good, fuck. Thank you.” Reigen smiled and captured his lips, kissing him deeply. His ass bounced on Serizawa’s legs, hips swaying as he repeatedly rubbed up against his thick, leaking cock. A muffled moan escaped Serizawa as Reigen pushed his tongue down his throat. The man hung his head back, focused on the way his mouth sucked on him and his tongue pulsed against his own.

The hand teasing his nipple pulled away. Serizawa noticed. He was curious where Reigen would put it next. Maybe on his shoulder? Maybe he’d grab his hair? Flatten it against his chest as he kissed him? Or maybe…

He felt a feathery finger trace the length of his dick. The thing twitched.

Reigen broke the kiss to focus on the quivering heat between his legs. He loosely wrapped his hand around the width, his fingers failing to meet, and he slowly stroked his hand down. Serizawa moaned shamelessly at the feeling of the loose skin being pulled down, uncovering his dripping head.

“ ‘Taka- Oh- Haah…!” Reigen swiped his thumb over the slit, watching happily as Serizawa’s thighs shook, trying their hardest not to let go and accidentally kick him. Sweat dripped down his legs as the hand on his stiff cock pumped him steadily. He failed to hold back and his hips thrust up into the confident strokes. Reigen twisted his wrist around the girth, feeling his own arousal climb with the way his lover poured out heady moans and gasps, his hips spasming and his strong arms tugging at his ties, rattling the bedframe. So sensitive.

“P-Please, ‘Taka, I need more. God, I need you,” Serizawa begged pathetically under his touch. Reigen’s breath hitched in his throat. Fuck. He was so needy.

“Not yet, ‘Tsuya. Wanna play with you a little more before I swallow that big cock of yours.” Serizawa sobbed out at his words. Reigen sat back and observed for a moment. He licked his lips, moaning under his breath at the sight in front of him. The thick veins throbbing underneath the thick skin, pools of precum forming at the base of his dick, fresh drops peeking out from the tip as his hand moved up and he squeezed just a little tighter. God, he was so turned on.

“Mmmm, it’s real sexy seeing you like this, y’know? Falling apart in my hands… shit.” Serizawa moaned at the praise, nodding his head aimlessly. Just doing it for the sake of acknowledging his presence. Reigen laughed before raising his hips and leaning forward. His face lowered evenly with the weeping head in front of him. He swiped his tongue over his lips one last time before wrapping them around the tip. Serizawa dragged a long groan, relishing the warm cavernous space of Reigen’s mouth. The blonde licked and sucked the bulging tip before bobbing his head lower, dragging his teeth along the veiny sides. The bigger man shouted.

“F-Fuck! Oh- Ohhh, God, fuck. Arataka… that’s good. That’s so good, shit,” Serizawa rambled quickly, thanking and praising his mouth on his cock. Reigen twisted his hand at the base of his heavy shaft, making up for anything he couldn’t reach. He sucked in deeply through his nose, struggling to breathe with how much room he took up in his mouth. He inhaled the sweaty, gritty musk that was so very “him” and moaned around the length, hollowing his cheeks out.

Serizawa continued to thrash against his restraints, in tears now and panting as he was sucked off. His hips rocked up into the man’s wet mouth. Reigen choked slightly as it hit the back of his throat. Serizawa’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, recognizing the gurgling noise all too well. His brain was hazy with pleasure, unable to formulate a single coherent thought. Only fixating on the feeling of Reigen’s hot tongue running along the outline of his meaty cock.

Then he was interrupted by a cold stretch at his entrance.

“A-Aaah! Fuck, this—!” Serizawa cried out. Reigen’s two fingers slipped into his ass easily with the generous helping of lube he gathered off to the side. He slowly pumped his slender digits in and out of his hole, reaching further and further inside of him with every thrust. He continued to swallow Serizawa’s member, bobbing his head up and down as he hummed happily around it. It was all too much to handle.

Reigen’s fingers squelched a great deal until he finally brushed against that bundle of nerves deep inside. Serizawa’s hips flew up and his back arched as he got closer to snapping that knot in his core. Reigen’s face bumped against his soft stomach, his nose smothered into his hairy pelvis as he deepthroated him. He tried not to gag, pulling back and taking the entire length again, and again, and again. His fingers thrust harder into his tight hole.

“F-Fuck, fuck, fuck! ‘Taka it’s so- I can’t-” Right on cue, Serizawa’s body froze mid-air and his body convulsed as he released everything in his partner’s mouth. Reigen continued to lick him up, swallowing every spurt that didn’t leak out of the side of his mouth. Serizawa came hard and he wailed, hips shuddering and head thrown back as he thrusted up, spiraling out of control. He couldn’t stop his dick from twitching. The hot wetness of Reigen’s mouth… It was heaven.

When the spurts finally lessened, twitching patterns becoming unceremonious, Reigen pulled off of him with a sticky pop. Then Serizawa heard the clear gulp piercing through the sudden silence of the room. The two of them panted, gasping for breath as they caught up to the present. Reigen crawled back up on top of his chest and grabbed his chin with a quiet, “C’mere,” before kissing him. Serizawa tasted a mouthful of salty bitterness and groaned against his lips.

Then he felt Reigen rustle on top of him, the sound of a belt unbuckling and fabric rustling. His ass bumped back against Serizawa’s already hardened cock which was fully stiff again, remnants of cum from his first orgasm smearing against the valley of Reigen’s ass. The blonde pulled away with swollen red lips, an excited smile that Serizawa couldn’t see but still hear clear as day.

“Ready for me, big guy?”

I love gay people. Thanks for reading! ✧･ﾟ: *

[honey-oak-recs]

Somewhere Between

Aki Hayakawa x GN!Reader

WC: 809

TW: none! It’s fluff with a mild amount of angst bc it’s Aki and it can’t not be angsty by nature. This is in line with cannon tho, just before denji moves in with Aki obvs.

—

The pittering sound of rain brings you back to reality. Glancing over, you see it’s really picked up since you arrived at Aki’s apartment last night. If you listen and focus enough, you can hear the quiet breaths he takes as he sleeps. Slowly turning over to face Aki, you admire his features while he’s relaxed. It’s rare you’re awake before he is, so you savor this time, taking in every second of the delicate features that’ll soon be replaced with his tough exterior. 

Gently, you reach over and move a stray piece of dark hair away from his cheek, tucking it behind his ear knowing it won’t stay put anyway. His forehead creases as he furrows his brows, not quite awake but somewhere between a dream and awareness. You wonder what he dreams about; something he’s never shared with you. Well, amongst many other things, you suppose dreams are not as important so you don’t give much more thought to it. 

His eyelids flutter a few times and you can’t help but keep looking. It’s not like you haven’t caught him staring at you when you’ve woken up. He smiles softly, the sleepy smile that you love so much. You haven’t told him this yet, and you are unsure about how he will take it. Aki has lost so much already, you’re not sure if it’s fair to tell him how you feel for the fear he might lose you; even though he never could. 

“Morning,” he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His body radiates warmth, comforting you in seconds. You place a hand on his chest, your cold fingers instantly warming. 

“Sleepyhead,” you kiss his nose and he grins again. “What were you dreaming about?” 

He shrugs, removing his arm from your waist and rubbing his eyes. “Can’t remember,” he tells you, his voice still rough and deep from sleep. 

He leans forward, kissing you softly. You breathe him in, the taste of last night's cigarette and mint gum still on his lips. You’ve asked him to quit so many times, but he never listens. He promises he’ll try but every time he stopped for a day, the next was just too much to handle without the sweet taste. He always sounded so sad when he made an excuse, you let him get away with it. 

“I dreamt about a cat going to space. Much more interesting than whatever you’re withholding from me,�� you tell him, turning to lie on your back and face the ceiling. 

Aki sits up, tossing his legs off the side of the bed. His hair falls around his shoulders, and you notice the tufts that formed at the back of his head. You can’t help but giggle, sitting up and wrapping your arms around his bare waist. 

“Don’t leave the warmth of the bed, I might freeze to death without you.” You feign concern and grip him tighter. 

He laughs softly, barely audible. “Baby,” he coos, “I need to brush my teeth and smoke.” 

His routine, something you’ll never be able to compete with even though you try. You flop back onto his bed, releasing him to his oh so important tasks. You’re aware Aki has feelings for you, or else he wouldn’t ask you to come over so often and usually just to sleep together without fooling around. It’s intimate but there’s been nothing spoken about what your relationship to one another is. 

Perhaps it’s somewhere between lovers and friends. 

Glancing up at the clock on his nightstand you see it’s barely after 8 a.m. You slept just a little over four hours in total, but somehow don’t feel unrested. You don’t work until noon, but you might as well head home, you decide. Aki has his routine and you’d rather not be here when he leaves for work and have the unsettling feeling that it might be the last time you see him. It’s better if you go first and think about coming home to him instead. 

Dressing quietly and quickly you gather your things and toss them in with Aki’s laundry, knowing one of you will get to it and not mind separating it out later. 

“Where are you going?” Aki peeks his head through the sliding glass door to his balcony. 

“Home, I just wanted to do a few chores before going to work. I’m also out of clothes here.” You tell him, slipping your shoes on by the door. 

He rushes towards you, cigerette still between his fingers. He never keeps them lit inside, you’re stunned to see he ran inside with it. “Aki, what are-” 

“Just get all your stuff and come back here. Move in with me.” He says breathlessly, and you know it isn’t from the short run.

Maybe you’re not just someone somewhere between to him.

[honey-oak-recs]

SHISHI MY LOOOOOOOOOVE 💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘

Indulging me by watching reality TV w me. I bet me secretly loves it and will be so invested in Saki’s journey with love by episode 3. He just likes to act like he’s better than me 🤧

This was so sweet with him realizing his feelings ahhhh I am swooning and kissing him on the lips

define

seiji shishikura x reader // bnha // vday snippet // fluff

Being in a relationship with Shishikura was… interesting, to say the least. The man was not keen on traditional gestures of romance, such as affection or gifts, even in private, but you took what you could get. 

And, in moments like these, where he gave you some leeway and let you begrudgingly entangle your arm with his, you liked to force him to spend all day on the couch watching your favorite reality tv shows. 

Shishikura scowled at the screen, his eyebrows furrowing. “I don’t understand why you enjoy watching these kinds of shows.”

“It’s Saki’s chance to meet her one true love, Seiji! From a host of good-looking guys who lie on their dating profiles!” You sighed dreamily. “What more could you ask for?”

Shishikura scoffed, crossing his legs together. “It’s a vapid form of entertainment. The people on these shows are simply there for the attention. They have no actual interest in pursuing romance.”

You eyed him curiously. “Then, what would you say is a good reason to be in a relationship?”

“Companionship,” he said instantly. “Humans are social creatures. They crave the presence of others.”

“So then…” A smile slowly stretched your cheeks. “Are you saying that you desire my companionship?”

Shishikura’s eyes widened, his face growing warm. “That’s not—you can’t just—! It’s impossible to… to reduce my motives to a single concept,” he finished lamely. His voice grew softer at the end, hesitant, as if he himself was afraid of the answer.

You tilted your head, your eyes shining with curiosity. “Is it? Hey Seiji… do you believe in love?”

He stiffened. “Wh…why do you ask?”

You shrugged, your gaze still trained on him. “Just curious. What’s love to you?”

Shishikura was all too aware of how close you were to him; it made him unease roll in his gut. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Whatever it is… it’s certainly not these outlandish displays of ‘romance’ that the characters on this show are displaying. Love… love isn’t something that can be put on a display and monetized.”

He paused. 

What did he think of love? Truth be told, Shishikura hadn’t been the type to believe in such unnecessary emotions, but that was before he met you. You made him… feel things. You made him feel weak, and foolish. And when you smiled warmly at him, and asked him to join you in mundane activities, as if his presence alone would make your day that much brighter? It made him dizzy, made his chest clench with some emotion so thick and cloying—

His eyes widened. Was it what he thought it was? Did you make him feel…lo—

“Hey Seiji? Last question…” You stared at him earnestly. A warm, wry smile on your face. “Do you love me?”

“I-I—” His tongue felt glued to his mouth. Emotions were never something he was comfortable expressing openly, but you, on the other hand, had always declared your love for him so sweetly, without hesitation. Perhaps the reason you were asking these questions was because you wanted to hear the same thing…? 

He found his voice, gathering his wits about it. “I know that… I don’t say it often enough but… yes. I do. I love you.”

The way you practically beamed at him had his heart stuttering annoyingly. He muttered something about of course you should realize this by now, idiot, and you laughed. 

“Why don’t you show me then?” You leaned in to kiss him on his cheek, which had turned a soft shade of pink. And again on his nose. Then again on his lips. 

“T-too many kisses!” He said, breaking apart, his face aflame. “(Y/N)!”

[honey-oak-recs]

day 1, dio brando: petplay

kinktobruary day 1

dio brando x reader // jojo's bizarre adventure

summary: pets know better than to keep their master waiting, right? dio has little patience for your other obligations. when he fails to grab your attention, he has other means for persuading you. modern, non-stand AU

tw/cw: 18+ only, smut, petplay, semi-public in a sense (someone hears you two via zoom), rough s*x, degradation, humiliation, dio in this au still has a god complex, dio being a drama queen who has no concept of boundaries, dio being jealous of your homework

word count: 2.5K

—

You liken Dio to a cat.

Not a cute, domestic cat, someone you could leave to his own devices, but a lion. Raw, barely curbed vigor, an intimidating air; he’s someone that can command a room. And just like a feline, he can be downright obstinate when it comes to getting you to play along with one of his whims.

The heat of his ochre gaze typically has you relenting to his desires, but today you are determined. The assignment you’re working on is due at midnight, and it’s your utmost priority to get it done, considering the substantial portion it makes up of your grade. Your keyboard keys continue clacking, even as you can feel his eyes boring into you. 

“Dear,” he starts, the rich, sultry timbre voice of his voice one that you know all too well.

You shush him sharply.

You don’t have to look up to see the displeasure curling his lips. “I did not even get to finish—”

“Mm, I know what you’re going to say.”

“Oh?” Dio is nothing if not interested in a worthy challenge, when he finds one. “And that is?”

“Entertain me, I’m bored. Something to that effect?” At his annoyed silence, you continue. “Sorry, but I really need to get this done—”

“School. Assignments. Deadlines. Do they really matter in the grand scheme of things?” Distaste sharpens his words to fine edges, edges which you easily duck and avoid as you continue typing.

“They do if I want to pass.”

Dio refuses to relent, a sign, perhaps, of his own relentless contempt for boredom, as he unfurls from his position to stride towards you. He leans down, hovering just inches over you as he observes you work.

“You would not even need to finish this tedious course if you had just accepted my offer.”

“To work at your law firm? Thanks, but I’ll pass.” You can feel the irritation leeching off of him, the hairs on your arms standing on end, so you finally acknowledge him. Dio, even though he keeps you closest to your heart, still refuses to lower himself to you, and as he stands above you, he observes you like a game of chess. Another piece he needs to crack, another victory to earn.

You don’t doubt your lover’s keen intellect, but you don’t take lightly rumors you hear of the corruption at his law firm lightly. What he does in his career is little of your business, especially not when it provided the two of you with a lovely penthouse suite in the nicer part of London, but what is your business was the autonomy you had. 

You can’t imagine what being domineered by Dio both at home and work.  You quite enjoy the freedom your academics grants you from his wide influence. Well, besides the assignments. You could do without those.

“Sorry,” you say, gentler now, hoping to rectify the damage you’ve done to his ego. “We can do something later, okay?”

Perhaps you underestimate Dio’s hatred for coming second place to anyone or anything. 

—

Dio, from his perspective, finds this predicament quite vexing. While he admits on some occasions he finds your dedication to your studies is admirable, as he finds all things in life that people mercilessly chase after and obtain, it does get boringly predictable. The way you lock yourself off to all external stimuli to get something done. A quality he often admires in you, but at the current moment, gives him much frustration. 

What can a measly course teach you that Dio can’t? He graduated law school with flying colors, started his own law firm, and was an absolute, smashing success. So, why do you insist on subordinating the knowledge and experience he could offer you, to something as trivial as school? Your dismissal of him has his blood simmering.

Yet, his annoyance manifests itself into scheming, as it often does. Possibilities flash through his mind, ways that he can morph the sight of your frustrated brow and keen concentration into adoration, into you mewling, begging for him, his name a hymn on your tongue. You always do call out his name oh-so-alluringly. As his thoughts delve into more carnal fantasies, yearning stokes the fires in him.

You always do look absolutely divine with your face flushed, your skin dewy with sweat and other fluids. Dio is positive he can paint that picture once again.

You’ll learn to regret rejecting his advances. Because it’s time for him to discipline you, to show you what happens when his pet spurns his interest.

—

You’re tidying up your workspace, in preparation of the zoom meeting with your study group. The three of you are supposed to go over your essays, give each other last-minute feedback, perhaps gripe about your professor’s ridiculous standards.

As you connect to the call, you notice Dio enter the room again. He seats two spaces away from you, before procuring a book for leisurely reading. At your greeting, he doesn’t even so much as glance at you, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. Oh, so he isn’t done being upset about earlier.

You redirect your attention to zoom, eyes lighting up when the faces of your classmates pop up on screen. As the three of you began chatting, exchanging pleasantries, you catch Dio placing his book down in your periphery. You glance over at him, but you’re not able to spot the deviousexpression play across his features with him facing away from you.

Little do you know, the perfect opportunity presents itself to him, and who is he to not take it.

Just as you start skimming your peer’s paper, you hear the thump of Dio’s book falling to the floor.

“How clumsy of me.”

Perhaps if you were paying more attention, you’d hear the intention lacing the sarcasm in his ton, a slight change to his usual, condescending manner. As it is, you’re distracted by a comment your peer makes. But just as your eyes trail across the words on your screen again, you feel something brush your leg.

Then two hands, large and firm, grasp you by the ankles and yank your legs apart. It’s a good thing you’re on mute, or else your classmates would have heard your shriek.

You glance down to see Dio under the table, his golden gaze challenging you. “What are you doing?” 

“I can’t seem to find where I dropped my novel. Pity,” he says, not sounding at all bothered. “I suppose I’ll have to entertain myself in this measly way.”

The thin shorts you wear prove to be impervious to his efforts as his fingers trail up your thigh. You send him a warning look, your attention dipping between him and the zoom call. While at first, his hands are mere caresses, his actions soon escalated, much like a buildup to the main act. When his fingers reach your panties, and he begins halfheartedly stroking through the give in them, you fidget at the sensation of liquid warmth pooling between your thighs.

“Dio,” you hiss. “This is really not the time—”

“Pet,” he says, deceptively calm. “Is that any way to speak to your master?”

His words, honeyed and cloying, seem to drip from his mouth, and straight between your thighs. Your mouth shuts as you attempt to shut your thighs, but he merely nudges them apart again, the stroking of his fingers unimpeded. You glance at your classmates on screen, noticing that they seemed to be engrossed in reading, before focusing back on him.

“Make it discreet.”

“Oh? I was not aware that you were the kind to give me orders, pet. I’ll do as I please.”

He tugs at the hem of your shorts, and this time you comply, lifting your hips so that the material falls to your feet. Then Dio’s stroking evenly along your panties, his movements uninhibited, and your thighs begin quaking. When he prods you under the material, his thick digits burrowing into you, you let out a shaky breath that you disguise as a cough.

The words on the page before you start to blur, and your attention and bodily awareness converge to the single, burning heat building in your gut. Gosh, you were so close… your eyes clench shut, your teeth worrying your bottom lip. Your breath stutters when—

Nothing. A gust of air fans your exposed parts.

Your eyes snap open. “Dio—”

He’s already standing, brushing himself off. He aims a disgruntled look at the wrinkles on his slacks from kneeling down for so long, attempting to straighten them out. 

You call his name out again, and this time he snaps.

“I suggest you turn that camera of yours off if you value your modesty, pet. I don’t,” he says frankly, a cruel smirk curling his lips. “However, you have your own meager reputation you want to preserve.”

You turn off your camera not a moment too soon, as Dio shoves his fingers that were just inside you in your mouth. You choke at the abruptness, your tongue sloppily cleaning his fingers of the mess you’ve made. As he yanks them out, he leans down to capture your lips in a kiss, his tongue forcing you into obedience. You comply, his mouth muffling your moan as your hands curling into the fabric of his shirt. He slaps them away.

“Did I say you could touch me, pet? Look at how you’ve mussed up my shirt.” He chuckles. “First you make me lower myself to you, and now this? Oh, I’ve quite the low tolerance for your behavior today, pet.”

He jerks you up from your seat by your arm, maneuvering you so that your hands are braced along the table, your ass bent towards him. You shiver at the sound of him undoing his belt buckle and of clothes falling to the floor. His hefty length rests against your cheeks, the heat of it causing heat to creep up your own cheeks as you’re face-to-face with your zoom session, your classmates unaware of what’s going on behind your camera.

He doesn’t even bother taking off your panties, simply yanking them to the side before breaching you. As Dio’s girth stretches you wide in one thrust, you bite back your moan. The sensation of fullness is accompanied by the slightest sting of pain, as Dio didn’t prepare you nearly enough for his penetration, but that doesn’t stop him. He slides out before spearing into you again, his hips rocking hard enough that the table trembles.

He chuckles. “Look at you.” He admires your reflections in the black screen, the barely discernible outline of his figure jostling into yours. “Imagine, if your hand slipped… if you let those foolishly naive peers of yours catch sight of you at this moment.... What would they say? What would they think of you, pet? I can only imagine the humiliation you’d experience at being caught as mine to use and wreck.”

You whine, your eyes slipping shut as you arch your back towards him. Dio’s hand comes to press lightly against your throat, squeezing once for good measure. His hips continue to pummel into you harshly, your hips digging uncomfortably into the table’s edges. Your hands dart towards your front, attempting to accelerate towards a quick end, but he catches it. 

“You will cum from my touch and my touch alone, pet,” he sneers.

You whimper again, and Dio smirks. He drags your hips back and spreads your legs wider, so that when he thrusts into you, it’s as if you can feel him prodding the very edge of your gut. You choke out a moan of his name, bracing your elbows on the table. The table creaks louder with his every thrust, and the errant slap of his balls against your skin…. God, you need to double-check to make sure you’re on mute.

“Pet, I believe they’re speaking to you.” Dio snickers.

Your eyes snap open, and of course, your classmates are looking in your direction expectantly. You flush; even though your camera is off, it feels like they know what you’re up to, that they can see the depraved things you and Dio are doing. And with the way he’s fucking you, leaving you little room to gather your bearings, much less breathe… you don’t think you can find it in you to continue the session. Your hand hovers over the button to exit the call, but Dio jerks into you again and your fingers miss the button. 

“Answer them, pet,” he says suddenly. “I command you to.”

You shoot him a withering look that wilts at the way his hips smack into you, breaking your concentration. You bite down on your lip, turning on your mic.

“S-Sorry guys.” Even you can hear your voice was strained, tight. “C-Camera’s not working. Must be the internet,” you say quickly, before muting again. You hope to God that the audio didn’t pick up on the wet slap of his hips against yours, or the creaking of the table. Dio, on his end, is clearly biting back his own devilish laughter.

As they continue talking, each torturous minute you attempt to stay focused weakens your resolve, and you unmute yourself again. “A-actually I’m really sorry…. I think I need to g-gooo—I’ll send you feedback later, I promise.”

You freeze as Dio lets out a positively sinful groan, loud enough for them to hear, accompanied by a moan of your name. “(Y/N), you feel exquisite—”

“B-Bye!” You exit the call, your face burning. Dio chortles as you reach around to smack his chest. “Dio, you—you dick!” 

“Perhaps they’ll think I have the flu, pet. People come up with the most irrational excuses for things they don’t want to believe.”

“You’re so fucking—incorrigible—”

“Mm, you don’t seem to mind.”

“Just make me cum already,” you snap.

“I was not aware I was taking requests,” he remarks just as icily.

Still, it seems he’s reaching his limit as well, aided no doubt by the way you’d tightened around him in surprise at his earlier trick. He pins you to the table, his hips practically pummeling into you. You moan, at each slam of your hips against the table, already picturing the bruises that would no doubt form tomorrow. As Dio’s hips piston into you, you clench around him, feeling heat surge through your gut. You lower your face, his name a gasp on your lips as you ride out your orgasm. Shortly after, Dio is pulling out of you, hissing as his own release splatters onto the table.

You’re panting, already feeling the phantoms aches in your body from holding onto that position. As you flex the stiff muscles in your wrists, your eyes land on your notes and outline for your paper, the ink smudged in several places from droplets of Dio’s release. Your jaw drops.

“Dio!” You smack his shoulder, pointing to your ruined study materials. He merely smirks, tucking himself back into his pants.

“Gross! How am I supposed to read this now?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea. Perhaps you could clean them with your tongue,” he suggests.

He definitely aims with intention.