#disarming musk with a kiss

[suiheisen]

forget about elon musk vs mark zuckerberg. i need to see yoshiki fight elon musk.

update: x japan has released its first single in eight years. to further shade elon musk. this is a thing that happened.

#this is SO ENTERTAINING ;_____; #the most fun japanese twitter has had in a while asdgajajak #VISUAL KEI FANDOM IT’S OUR TIME 🌹 #57-year-old yoshiki turning up in leather pants with a silk shirt undone to his navel and a red rose held in his teeth #disarming musk with a kiss #love yoshiki hashtagging his tweets yoshiki. so true king #also gackt waking up from his cryosleep to defend yoshiki’s honour……….. peak old man yaoi #long post #twitter #x japan #elon musk #yoshiki #gackt

[deceitfuldevout]

The Passenger

Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1,918

Warning(s): +18, Non Con, Public Sex, Manhandling, Minor character death.

Author's Note(s): This is a one shot.

Hydra has taken over S.H.I.E.L.D, forcing Steve and the other avengers to flee. Now on the run with no one to trust.   All you wanted was to go home. You didn’t expect crossing paths with the Nomad himself.

Steven Grant Roger’s face had been plastered anywhere he could think of. Yet he remains hidden in plain sight. So far his cover hadn’t been blown. While meeting up with Sam, the two of them discuss how to take down these Hydra branches. Steve pauses for a moment.  His super soldier hearing alerted him of Hydra spies. Lingering not too far from where they sat.   Sam notices his friend’s tense behavior immediately. 

Originally posted by avengerscompound

Both him and Steve eye the other men across the counter. Steve nods to his companion. Sam knows the drill. Cap is quick on his feet, walking right out of the diner. His friend makes his way into the restroom in order to separate the spies. As soon as Steve makes it a few blocks from the restaurant his ears pick up the sound of an ambulance driving by. He checks his phone’s message: ‘Took out the trash’

Steve crushes the disposable device in his hand. He swiftly chucks the pieces into a trash bin. Sam and him would meet up later at the secret base. Which leads him to one last thing: Getting rid of the agent following him.

Originally posted by kisslandvibes

You were headed home from the library. A warm breeze swishes the skirt of your sundress. Part of you wishes that this day was spent enjoying the weather. However most of the day was spent prepping for finals. You missed your first stop but didn’t mind. There would be another train arriving soon. The train cart you stood in was mostly empty. Not surprising, especially around this time. Only one more stop and soon you’d be out. During the next stop you notice two men walking in.

Oh boy...

Nope! Now’s not the time to freak out. Besides, it’s not like you were a young woman on a train stuck with two strange men almost close to midnight. Not terrifying at all...screw it! It’s the 21st century! This is something rational to be scared about!

If they even try me I’ll scream I swear if they even think about-

You felt something—no someone. A hand was pressed firmly against your rear. You turn around to see a man. Only it was was no ordinary man. You couldn’t believe it. The entire country was looking for him. He was a suspected terrorist threat.

Captain America. Now known as Nomad.

Originally posted by buckybarsn

Your breath hitches. You begin panicking. One of his fingers is in the front of his lips, shushing you. He comes closer towards you. Your face is now buried against his warm chest. His body is flush against yours. You could practically smell the musk coming from him. Your backpack slips from your shoulder. Steve is quick to catch it with his super soldier reflex. He now holds it in one arm. You’re trapped in the other. He leans in and rests his head against your side. He whispers,

“Just play along,”

“What-“

Steve then leans in for a kiss. His lips press firmly against yours. That was defiantly not what you would expect to happen.

Your mouth gapes open in shock. Giving him easy access to guide his tongue in. Your head moves back from the light push. He holds the back of your head firmly in place. As soon as he retreats you’re a blushing mess. A set of eyes are on the both of you. Not from the ex-soldier, but from the Hydra agent eavesdropping close by. Steve notices the man shifting in his seat, he reaches inside his coat to retrieve a pistol.

Originally posted by gajo1987

The man aims it at the soldier, but not before preaching “Hail Hydra,” then fires. You’re shoved away from the direction of the blaze. Steve is quick to dodge the bullets flying. He disarms the shooter. Now angry at him for putting you in danger. He held his shoulders in a tight grip, not caring about his wince, “Who sent you here?!”

The agent chuckles, “If you cut off a head, there will be more to grow in it’s place...hail hydra...” he bites deep into a fake tooth traced with poison. Steve hasn’t seen that tactic in years. The man begins to foam at the mouth. You regain your composure. Then realizing now that the man tackled by Steve Rogers is dead. You let out a blood curdling scream. You couldn’t believe your eyes. This man...Nomad killed him in cold blood. There was that little voice in your head telling you to do one thing on instinct: Run! Run now!

You can’t decide whether to retrieve your bag on the floor, or run out without a phone. But before the Soldier could stand you sprint towards the other cart. He calls for you only once. Soon enough you’re in the next cart, then the next one, until you’ve reached the end of the train, “No no no no...n-no please...”

“Ma’am”

You shriek. Turning around now face to face with a war criminal.

“You dropped this,”

He has you cornered. You get on your knees, “Please...please don’t kill me! I-I didn’t see anything! I-I swear!”

He stares at you in confusion. One of his eyebrows raises, then he chuckles, “Are you sure about that doll? How do I know you won’t be running to the authorities right after?” He plops the bag on the ground. He reaches to pat your head, “Hm? What will you do to prove it?”

“I...I-I know that you probably don’t trust me, but please sir just look at me in the eye if you think I’m lying to you: I will not, under any circumstance tell a single soul if you promise not to kill me,” you eyes begin to pool with fresh tears, “P-please...I don’t want to die!” Your hands are now intertwined like a prayer, looking up to look into the eyes of your possible murderer. His gaze doesn’t move. Then, for a millisecond, a look of hurt.

“Get up.” his voice is stern. You hesitate for a moment too long. His arms reach for yours. He yanks you into a standing position. You’re frozen with fear. He sighs, “Relax..” which obviously doesn’t work. This annoys him, “Hold onto the handle bars. Now.” Your hands snap up and onto the grips. Steve steps behind you, “Don’t let go of the bars, no matter what. Do you understand?” You nod. He smiles, “Good..” he bunches your skirt up. You let go of the bar to stop him before he could go further. Instead you’d receive a sharp nip against your neck. That was a warning. His voice booms,

“Hands. Up.”

What other choice did you have other than complying? His hands are gentle when roaming your body. It was as if he were doing a pat down. Why should he worry about someone like you? It’s not like you were capable of taking on a Super soldier.

A hand drags down the bottom of your dress, sliding underneath to palm your clothed slit. His middle finger traces the crease, causing you hips to jolt back right against his erection. You squirm in place. Not daring to break free from his touches out of fear. He grinds forward, adding more friction. You bite your bottom lip to stifle a whine. His other hand reaches out for a breast, giving it a gentle squeeze. He rolls the soft mound in his hand, making sure to pinch the nipple.

His finger pads rub gentle circles against your bundle of nerves. Massaging it in circular motions. After a while your knees begin to buckle. Almost threatening to give in. You force yourself to keep balance as he quickens the pace. Then just like that a fire ignites. Your mouth opens, a whine escapes your lips. Your legs shake and knees buckle. The intensity from the pleasure alone clouds your mind.

Before you could register what had happened Steve gives your slit one last rub. He retrieves his now soaked hand. His fingers glisten in the dim lighting. He looks you in the eyes. His tongue laps them for a moment until he finally sucks them clean. He removes his digits with a ‘pop’ sound. You shudder from the sound echoing inside the train cart. He unzips his pants to release his throbbing member.

Both of his arms now hug you from behind, trapping you in his tight embrace. He lifts you by the waist. Holding you in the air, now hovering over his shaft. Your legs kick around in protest. Steve buries his face into the crook of your neck. He inhales your scent. Chills crawl down your spine. You twist your hips from side to side. But nothing would break you free from the super soldier.

That’s when you felt it.

When you felt him.

His leaking tip began splitting your glistening folds open. You cry out from the stretch. Steve groans from the feeling of your walls wrapping tightly around him. Practically squeezing him. His breathing is heavier now, “Relax..” he thrusts his hips up, penetrating you fully in one go. Your eyes were like saucers. You could see your reflection in the window.

Your skirt had been tied up, revealing where the two of you join. A lewd sight to see. Tears stream down your cheeks from the humiliation. He braces himself, “You Ready?” he whispers pulls you up once again. Only the tip of his cock remains inside. He lets gravity take over. By dropping you down his manhood. You could feel him piercing deeper inside each time he rocks you up and down. At this point you had no control over the super soldier’s brute force. His thrusts were inhuman.

After a while, jerking had finally slow down. His hips buck up into you one last time before heavily coating your walls. Your whole body convulses before going limp. Mouth left agape from the intensity of the orgasm. A line of spit trails from your parted lips to the floor below. Steve rests you on the seat besides him.

He retrieves your panties and slips them back on. His hands roam your body for another feel. It was about time he start treating himself. He gives your breasts a squeeze before pulling your top back up. Both of you are now seated with Steve holding you close to him. He takes his coat and wraps it around you. Your limp form leans against his shoulder. He swings your legs in between his. Both of you are seated as a doting couple.

You later awaken in your bedroom. A light breeze from an open window cools the atmosphere. The morning sun approaches, ready for the new day. You get up to shut it close. That’s when you notice your sleeves. This wasn’t your coat. So who—no..It wasn’t a dream after all.

Originally posted by mynameisgarlic

Memories from last night return. You turn around to see if anyone was in your room. This man now knew where you lived. A note is left in the pocket of the oversized coat. You drop the note immediately after reading it.

‘Until next time -S.R.’

#Dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #reader #reader insert #fem!reader #fab!reader #afab!reader #dark!fic #dark!fanfic #dark!fanfiction #dark!smut #dark fic #dark fanfic #dark smut #dark fanfiction #the passenger fanfiction #my work #my works #marvel #chris evans #dark!steve rogers x you #dark!steve rogers #dark!nomad!steve rogers #dark!nomad steve

[november-scorpio]

003 - The Top 5 Sexiest Parts of a Woman’s Body, and What They Represent to Me

A woman’s body is a work of art, head to toe, full stop.

Body worship is a huge part of sex for me, and while I love biting, kissing, licking, and massaging every inch of a woman - there’s definitely a handful of areas that get me going more than others, and I wanted to gush about some of those here.

1.) Face (Individuality)

What’s more unique about a person than their face? Sure, people may look alike, but a person’s face is still the most instantly recognizable thing about them. With a seemingly infinite combination of different eye colors and shapes, to nose shapes and sizes, to jawline definition, a person’s face gives them their identity. As much of an ass maniac as I am (and I’ll get into that later), I’ve never been intimidated by a great ass, no matter how round and juicy. But a beautiful face? Gets me every time. A beautiful smile is welcoming and disarming; piercing eyes accompanied by serious eyebrows are intimidating, every facial expression, powerful in their own ways.

2.) Pussy (Femininity)

There’s nothing on Earth more feminine than a vagina. Women are makers of life, and the design of their lips is a reminder of that, resembling all sorts of other vibrant living things in our natural world, most notably the petals of a flower. The color of their lips - a soft, inviting shade of pink. The inside, comfortable and warm. Every man says the same thing to himself when he loses his virginity and enters a woman for the first time: “Oh yeah. This is where I need to be. This is home.”

The natural musk of a woman’s vagina, a decidedly feminine trait that can’t be replicated anywhere else. If you want to experience the real smell of a woman, there’s only one place to find it: In between her thighs.

There’s a reason why eating pussy is my favorite sex act. There’s nothing sexier than taking in a woman’s scent.

The duality of the vagina as a whole is also, undoubtedly feminine. It’s sensitive and delicate, but strong and durable all at once - just like actual women are.

3.) Ass (Primal Lust)

Ass turns me into a caveman. There’s just something about it that completely changes my mood once a woman’s clothes come off and her bare ass is exposed.

I have to bite it (while growling), squeeze it (while growling), and spank it (while growling). I love how it’s durable enough to withstand a little pain. I feel like I can release all my sexual tension by going to town on it, like the cheeks are fleshy, hot, incredibly primal stress balls.

Just thinking about an ass immediately brings up images of doggystyle, dominance, and a raunchy, good, hard fucking.

A woman’s face might turn me on, her pussy might get me going, but her ass is what transforms me from a chill, soft spoken dude, into an aggressive, primal beast.

4.) Legs (Strength)

I think when it comes to representing/displaying strength, men and women are different. When I think of a strong man, I think of the upper body. Broad shoulders, muscular biceps, firm pecks, and a toned abdomen. I think of Atlas holding the world on his shoulders, and men in general just being able to carry heavy things.

When I think of a strong woman, I think of her legs. And not just the statuesque kind found on supermodels. It’s not about how long they are, but how defined they are. I think of wide hips, thick thighs, and toned calves. I think of women doing squats, and twerking, and riding. All done with grace and fluidity, skill, and a strong lower body. Not only are legs visually stunning, but they represent a power women possess that often goes unmentioned.

5.) Armpits (Confidence)

Might be surprising to some to see armpits here and not tits, but the truth is, tits don’t really get me going. I love sucking nipples, and if a woman likes her tits played with, believe me, I’ll do whatever she wants me to do to them. But I don’t really get excited looking at a pair of tits. I can identify when someone has a genuinely nice pair, I mean, I have eyes, but it doesn’t move me one way or another. I don’t have a preference for size, I don’t have an interest in any sexual acts that require them, like tit fucking. They’re just sorta there.

But armpits? Armpits are highly sexual to me.

For one, just like with pussy, the scent of them gets me going. It’s a primal reminder that we’re all human and humans have their own signature scent.

And it’s for that reason that a woman’s armpits represent confidence to me.

Women are continuously told they need to buy a litany of products in order to be presentable. Razors, makeup, perfume, deodorant, the list goes on. A woman who doesn’t mind wearing sleeveless outfits is a confident woman. A woman who lets a man indulge by letting him smell or even lick her armpits is a confident woman. It’s a woman that doesn’t care what society tells her she should smell like, and embraces the taboo of being a funky woman. A woman who embraces her natural body and loves every part of it - it’s appearance, it’s taste, and its smell.

And just like confidence in a man is inherently sexy, so, too, is confidence in a woman.

[thirsty-lakedream]

The Renaissance Fair Champion

The echoes of clashing metal on metal excited the crowds as the two men in the pit fought for ultimate glory. One of the two, a handsome brunette who was barely wearing anything, parried the thrusts of his opponent with agile precision. Finally, with one powerful swing, he disarmed the other man wearing clunky chain mail, his weapon flying across the arena. The crowd could hardly contain themselves as the champion protected his title of blade master of the Renaissance Fair.

The man playing the king of the court waved his hand to address the show-goers. “And the winner of this duel, the fearless knight who is so brave he refuses to wear much armor, Anthony the Strong!” 

The hunk raised his sword in the air basking in the glory. The sweat on his body made a glisten that one may believe he was a god among men, with the skills to boot. 

After the show was done, ‘Anthony’ retired to a private tent for the renaissance actors to take a break after their shows. He set his sword on the table, taking a seat on a stool to strip off his arm and leg guards, the only thing he wore to his battles. Staring at himself in the mirror, he couldn’t help but get a hard-on with his own chiseled appearance. It wasn’t every day he looked this hot, he could probably get anyone he wanted with this killer body and winning grin. No wonder the people playing Anthony never wore any body-mail, because who would want to hide pecs like these?

“Kevin, amazing job out there!” Another man wearing regal medieval cloth stormed into the tent, happy that his show went perfectly as planned.

“Thanks, it was a blast. Did you hear the crowd, they couldn’t get enough of Anthony.” He kissed his massive biceps.

“You mean you, that was all you out there! Listen, I know you’ve been on the fence about joining us on our fair circuit, but you're the best Anthony we’ve had in quite a while. What do you think about joining us full time?”

As much as the person within loved being Anthony, the Adonis warrior of the Renaissance Fair, he still had doubts about leaving his hometown. “I’ll think about it, James.”

Just then a phone on the table went off. As Anthony read the message, his face sank. “Oh no, my friend just texted me he was in an accident on the other side of town!”

“But you can't just leave. Anthony has another show in half an hour!”

“Can’t you find someone else to play him?”

James looked annoyed but shrugged. “All the other regulars are busy today...I guess I can take over for the rest of the day.”

“Thank you!” The joyful pleas sounded weird coming from such a masculine brooding man.

“Yeah yeah. Just leave him and I’ll be back to put him on.” When James left the tent, Anthony got to work undressing what little garments he had. Standing completely naked, Anthony took one last look at his flawless body. Then began pulling his mouth apart. He continued stretching his face unnaturally, until ‘shlorp!’ The once beautiful face of Anthony was pulled back, revealing the scrawny and unimpressive Kevin inside. He slipped off the rest of the body suit, losing Anthony’s majestic muscles and size for his own stick body. 

Released from the fake body, Kevin posed the empty man on the seat, his dead eyes staring forward like a doll. Still erect from the feeling of being Anthony, Kevin almost decided to stay and become the hunk once again, but his friend needed him. Getting dressed in his street clothes, he took one more look at the lifeless guy, then left the tent.

After a moment, making sure the tent was completely empty, Ethan stepped out of his hiding place. “That was easy.” Both Ethan and Kevin were nerds who dreamed of having the perfect body, but no matter how much they worked out, they could never reach their goal. Every year they went to the renaissance fair, imaging themselves as the strong men who brandished swords and axes and caught the eyes of everyone at the fair. Though unlike Kevin, Ethan looked with more than admiration for these mighty studs. Ethan was bi but in the closet, and over the years fell for Anthony and his confidence with a blade. Whenever they attended the event, Ethan's secret highlight was watching the sword show where his dream man won every time. 

This year, however, Kevin last-second dropped the plans with a half-assed excuse. At first, Ethan just planned on staying home, but he eventually decided to go by himself in the hopes of seeing the champion win again. Then after watching Anthony’s incredible victory, Ethan finally built the courage to ask him out for coffee after. Instead, he found out his crush was nothing more than a costume being piloted by the friend that ditched him.

Ethan came up to Anthony, hardly believing that it was nothing more than a realistic skin suit. “Hi Anthony.” He obviously didn’t respond. “Why should I let Kevin have all the fun?” Ethan knew he didn’t have much time before that other guy would be back to take over Anthony. Quickly, he stripped off all his clothes from his small body and began pulling on Anthony.

As he stuck his foot into Anthony’s mouth, Ethan was washed by a feeling of euphoria. Even though he read stories of body suits, it was completely different experiencing it for himself. Though the outside was as real as a normal person, the inside had this unique rubber feel that hugged his leg in all the right ways. It was even still warm from its last occupant, and the faint smell of Kevin’s musk lingered within. 

Ethan pulled on the rest of the body, impressed by the newly acquired muscles and hung dick. Before pulling on the face, he couldn’t help but admire himself in the mirror. He could hardly grasp the reality of his head on such a stunning body. He had jacked off to the thought of Anthony before, but actually becoming him, he could hardly control his erection from growing an astounding 10 inches, twice as big as he could go normally. 

Finally, he took the misshapen head around his neck, pulling it over his own face. In an instant, Anthony was back, but this time it wasn’t Kevin inside. The veil between suit and real person was practically nonexistant. Ethan, now Anthony, caressed his glass-cut jawline. He always wanted facial hair like this, but could never grow it so rugged. His hands began to move lower, wrapping around his penis and starting to pump.

“You're still in there, Kev?” James returned, looking confused as a still lively Anthony was managing his erection the only way he could.

“Yeah, I got a call from my bud and he actually doesn’t need me.” The memories from Anthony began to flow into my mind, and I realized that James was the manager of the whole fair.

“Oh.” There was disappointment in his voice, envious that he didn’t get a turn as the sexy man. Who wouldn’t though?

“Actually, I was thinking about what you said and I will gladly take over Anthony from now on!”

“Really that’s great!” 

From outside the tent, a person dressed as a peasant called out, “5 minutes before the next show!” 

Anthony finished the first of many fantastic sessions with himself, then he grabbed his sword and put on the few prices of armor. Ethan, now posing as his friend, was ready for his new life as the champion of the renaissance fair. Let's just hope the suit will give him the same prowess with a sword that the previous Anthonys had.

#bodysuit #body suit #male bodysuit #body transformation #body possession #identity theft #jock possession #male tf #mtm tf #body takeover #sweat #skinsuit #original work

[littlegrrl7]

“The Tiger and the Wren”

Ikemen Sengoku Shingen/OC 18+

Excerpt from Chapter 6 “Pain and Warmth”

Fluff

___

“Rough mission?” Sasuke eyed the bruise on Ren’s cheekbone, another was visible through her kimono collar, her gait was stiff as she walked down the hall. It had been a few weeks since they’d seen each other.

“I’ve had better.” She gave him a half-grin and a wink. “How goes your training under Kenshin?”

“I’m managing to avoid him more regularly, it helps that these cold months keep people indoors.” He lifted the hem of his top. “Look, for the first time in my scientific lifestyle, I have abs!”

Ren laughed, giving him a half hug as they walked down the hall, he noticed her bandaged hand and squinted at her.

“I’m fine. Honestly, my mark had two extremely well-trained shinobi in his employ. I took my lumps, but gave as good as I got.” She gave him a quick reassuring kiss on the cheek, then turned the corner.

 Speaking of abs…

Her face pressed into the heated flesh of Shingen’s bare chest, the edge of his kimono caressed her cheek, unconsciously she inhaled deeply. Ren hadn’t realized how much she had missed the sweet musk of his scent. Coming to her senses, she stumbled backward, Shingen caught her in his long arms holding her against him until she had regained her balance. She felt the heat rise to her cheeks. His hands caressed warmly down her back.

“My Goddess, if you are favoring mere mortals with kisses from your divine lips today, I’ll have the next one.” Holy cats! His voice was like buttered caramel, she gazed upward, his mirth filled grey eyes smoldered, her knees went weak.

 Dammit, girl pull yourself together!

“My Lord, I apologize.” She started to bow, her eyes shifting away from his burning gaze to the ground. Her heart threatened to beat its way out of her chest.

“Unnecessary, “ Shingen cupped her chin, lifting her gaze back to his. A thumb traced the edge of her bruise with concern, then continued to teasingly brush over her lower lip. “You are, as always, a pleasure to bump into Ren.” The tiger glinted in his eyes at the double entendre. He took her hand, playfully kissing the tips of her fingers. Her face burned red. With a smile, he nodded in greeting to Sasuke and continued on down the hall.

Ren gasped.

“Woah,” Sasuke’s lip twitched in a grin “I knew there was some unresolved sexual tension between you two, but I feel like I need a cold shower after that exchange. Is he always so-“

“Every damn time.”

“And you haven’t-“

“No.” Ren swallowed audibly. Sasuke peered at her flushed face then glanced down the hall.

“Ren…I’m straight, and I’d hit that, what are you waiting for? He’s obviously into you.”

She sighed, shaking herself off. “He’s my boss.”

“I don’t think that’s an issue for him.” Ren smacked her friend’s shoulder.

“Uggg, I need a soak. My body is one big bruise. I’ll catch up to you later, ok?”

Sasuke gave her a lip twitch smile and sauntered off down the hall.

It was rare Ren used the onsen as she was one of the few females at the castle with leave to make use of it. It was cold, but still, the light dusting of snow melted far before the edge of the water. Ren had tied a small tag to a scarf at the entrance, announcing the hot spring was in use by her then dropped her towel near the edge, sinking her naked bruised body into the steaming medicinal waters.

It had been a long time since she had taken a beating like that, and it was a sharp reminder to keep her skills honed. She had been sent to Oshu to ferret out some information, on her way out, she encountered two extremely well-trained Shinobi who appeared to be brothers. She was happy she escaped with her skin intact if varying shades of purple. At least she gave as good as she got, the dark-haired one had stayed at range, but the flirty blonde he called “Gen” was definitely hurting as much as she was. She turned to face the edge of the pool, laying her bruised cheek against the cool stone. Everything just ached, it was probably for the best she didn’t have a mirror. At least the wound on her hand was shallow, it was the only cut she took. She let her mind drift in the rising steam of the onsen, her eyes sliding closed.

Familiar steps came close, her eyes snapped back open.

“Hello Ren, mind if I join you? Sasuke said you were going for a soak and would like some company.”

 Shingen…damn, you Sasuke. You are going to wish Kenshin had killed you.

She flitted her eyes to the side, her breasts were pressed to the wall, her back faced him.

“I left a scarf indicating I was using the onsen.”

“I saw,” He chuckled. “Was it not an invitation?”

She turned a little more to look at him. Shingen stood on the other side of the natural pool, wearing only a small towel around his narrow hips. Her eyes traveled upward slowly, every line of his body was perfectly sculpted from his muscled abdomen to his smooth broad chest to shoulders so vast she felt like she’d swoon. Ren had never seen a more magnificent specimen of a male. If he were from her time, he would be a model and not one that needed the aid of photoshop. She let her eyes wander appreciatively back downward. He smiled, dropping the towel to slide into the steaming water.

 Yes, …everything was perfect. Whelp, there’s more fuel for that fantasy…

Ren averted her eyes, her face glowing red. “Just stay to your side.”

Him

He saw the bruises on her face from the last mission and winced internally. He knew the twins she ran up against. That she survived, was a testament to her skill. When Sasuke mentioned to him she was going to soak, Shingen picked up a container of salve to give her to help with the bruising. Seeing her in the onsen, he was sorry he sent her. The white flesh of her back was mottled in all shades of pain like she had either taken a beating or fallen hard. He realized by the way she covered herself, she was unused to casual nudity.

“I’m sorry I sent you.” His voice was sincere, he saw her eyes flash in surprise.

“Was the information I retrieved not what you desired?”

“It wasn’t worth the damage to your pearlescent skin, my angel. Are you ok? I brought you some salve to help with the pain and bruising.”

“Thank you, my Lord. That is very thoughtful of you.” To his surprise, she turned to face him, sinking down into the water. Her arms crossed over her bare chest. An angry blackened bruise striped across her shoulder to her collarbone on the left side, it looks like someone struck her there then it bounced off catching her cheek.

“Just Shingen, please.” He requested softly, “Would you tell me what happened?”

“I got cocky.” A self-deprecating laugh slipped from her lips. “I haven’t run up against anyone else here to match my skills, the other shinobi I’ve run into were sloppy or lacking in discipline, these two weren’t.”

Shingen listened quietly, watching the emotions play freely across her face. She was different today, unguarded. Possibly from fatigue. He found it very human of her, alluring, different than the self-assured cold demeanor she usually projected.

“I had just left the castle with the intel when the dark-haired shinobi started flinging kunai at me, he stayed at range the entire time. I never had a chance to bring out my bow because the blonde immediately closed at melee. We were evenly matched and disarmed each other as soon as he closed. The fight turned into unarmed combat with his brother flinging missiles at me. Thank goodness I was faster, he only managed a graze on my hand.” She gave a small shrug, wincing imperceivably at the roll of her shoulders. He found himself wanting to reach out to her to comfort her but knew she wouldn’t allow it in her current state of undress.

“The dark-haired man called him “Gen”. We beat on each other for some time, I gave as good as I got. I managed to knock him out, and I ran for it.” She paused and then added, “I would prefer not to be sent there again without backup.”

“Understood, again, I apologize for putting you in that position. I did not know they would both be present.”

Ren raised an eyebrow. “But you were aware at least one would be present? A warning would have been nice.”

“My goddess, I knew you could handle it, I have faith in you.”

She splashed him, “Ass.”

Shingen blinked at the unexpected sass then gave her a wolfish grin.

“Next time, warn me.” She smiled, it was radiant, and he felt his heart thump loud against his ribs.

“I promise.” He moved forward to sit by her and saw her eyes widen in panic. Shingen raised his hands.

“Just, keep to your side, mixed bathing isn’t really done by non-couples where I’m from.”

“We could change that.” Her eyes lit warily at his grin. “My angel, I would love to couple with you. "

“Pfffft!” Her laughter made him smile. “You and your silver tongue, do you ever stop flirting?”

“If you desired me to, I would stop. But I don’t think you do.”

“Guilty.” She rolled her eyes, then turned back around, giving him a view of her back to where the water lapped at her narrow waist. Another bruise started there and wrapped down under the water. His lips briefly tightened at the amount of pain she must be in.

“Ren, why don’t we go back to your room and I’ll help you with the salve? I use it when I’m injured. It will actually help more than the heat of the springs.”

She nodded, “would you close your eyes?”

“Hmmm?” He tilted his head.

“So, I can get out, would you please close your eyes?” The tips of her ears were scarlet, it had nothing to do with the heat of the springs. He smiled at how adorable she was.

“My eyes are closed.” He heard her leave the water, imagined it running off her flesh, pooling around her. Soft fabric rustled as she wrapped herself in the full towel.

“I’ll be in my room, thank you.”

Shingen waited until he could no longer hear her footsteps, then opening his eyes, he climbed out of the springs. He picked up the jar of salve and went to retrieve his kimono. He could have just given it to her, but the damage was so extreme she would never be able to reach all of it on her own.

 Tell yourself that old man.

This was not just an excuse to touch her, he wanted to help her.

 mmmhmmmm

He slid on his kimono…maybe he should just stop by and give her the salve, he could send a maid by to help her apply it. Yes, that is what he should do. He started walking toward her room with decisive strides.

He tapped on the door.

“Ren, it’s Shingen.”

“Come in.”

His breath hitched as he entered the room, and all thoughts of simply handing her the salve disappeared like smoke. She kneeled on her futon, her bare back to him. Her sleeping kimono was belted around her waist, but she had slid both arms out and merely held the cloth up to her chest. He had just seen her fully naked in the onsen, and yet this was far more intimate. He took a deep breath steeling himself. He was here to help her.

“I appreciate you helping me. I won’t lie, I’m very sore. It’s been a long time since I’ve been hurt this badly.” Her soft voice was hesitantly vulnerable.

Shingen kneeled behind her scooping some of the salve from the jar, he warmed it in his hands before spreading it gently onto her purpled flesh. Her skin was softer than he had imagined. He leaned in, rubbing the salve into the wound on her shoulder then moving lower down her back. His hands were gentle, reverent on her. The fact she was even letting him touch her so intimately surprised him.

“I saw one lower, near your waist?”

“Hmmm, yes, he hit me in the hip with a log.” She fidgeted a bit then opened the front of her kimono, dropping the fabric to display her purpled hip. He moved his hands over it, and she sighed in pleasure.

A smile tugged at his lips. He leaned in closer, letting his natural warmth roll over her. His hands continued to rub salve into her abused skin, but at this point, it was more of an excuse to touch her.

He slid both hands down her back, Ren let out a rumbling purr that ended in a moan. Then covered her mouth in embarrassment, her skin flushing to red.

“It appears I have discovered a tigress.” Shingen let his lips graze the nape of her neck, he couldn’t resist. The spice scent of her flesh was enticing. She turned her head toward him, snowy lashes fluttering to her cheeks.

“It just felt really good.” She admitted. The blush on her cheeks was beyond charming. He slid an arm around her cupping her chin.

“Let me see that cheek.” He caressed some salve over the bruise on her face. Her violet eyes caught his, he paused. There was desire in the depths of her eyes. She leaned back into his chest. He brought both arms around her in a warm embrace. His lips nuzzled into the back of her neck. He nipped her gently, suckling on tender flesh. Her breath came in short hot pants.

“Shingen, we shouldn’t.”

He grinned against her neck.

“You don’t want me to hold you?” he asked softly.

“I do, it feels nice.”

“Do you want me to kiss you?” his lips trailed against softly on her neck, nibbling at the uninjured flesh.

“I’m too hurt to make this enjoyable.”

He chuckled against her cheek. “I am enjoying you.”

She let out a frustrated little snort, he grinned wider. “You are adorable.” Shingen ruffled her short hair. “How could I not enjoy being close to you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Alright, I thank you for your help, I can get the ones in the front.”

“Or you could allow me to?”

Her

His hands, she was melting into the warmth of them. Everywhere he touched her, it tingled. Ren told herself it was just the medicinal salve, but her heart beating so fast in her chest told a different story. Her body still hurt, but now a different kind of ache was overlaying that. It was not a small effort to lean away from him, sliding her arms back into the sleeves of her kimono. She turned slightly with a wince and brushed her lips softly against his cheek.

“I really appreciate it thank you, I should get some rest.” She tried not to look him in the eye, Ren knew she’d lose her resolve if she did. It was already slipping. Every breath was full of his scent, his warmth, her body was screaming for him. She was holding onto her moral ground by her fingernails and slipping fast.

“It will only take a moment.” His eyes caught hers, concern and tenderness swirled in the soft grey. She was lost. Wordlessly she moved the cloth to the side, exposing the length of her left leg, the bruising on her thigh wrapping around down to her ankle. Shingen warmed the salve again in his hands, then slid them down over her muscled leg. She bit her lip holding back a moan, her eyes sliding closed. She rested her forehead to his shoulder. He made her feel too good to care anymore, the pain was replaced with his warmth. Her entire world focused down to the heat of his hands stroking over her calf, massaging the salve into her skin. Her breath came out in a long shaky sigh. Then to her surprise, he slid the kimono back over her leg, covering her. Shingen’s lips pressed warmly to her forehead.

“Get some rest, little bird. I’ll leave this with you.” He laid the jar next to her futon and stood. Her body hummed in protest at the loss of his warmth.

She let herself slide down into the bed, he leaned forward wrapping her warmly in the covers.

“Sweet dreams, my goddess.”

Continued on A03- long fic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21712111/chapters/51789976

#takeda shingen #ikemen sengoku #ikemen sengoku shingen #ao3 story #fluff

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“As would sit down an”)

As would sit down an empty of  youth, forgive, if I no more than  moon, draw not up seas to drown me the  Elysian ground. A kind of 

dying, a kind of birth, the sky  is a simulacrum to all  these thing toward the lost my heart? Victorian  poet called the most 

life, who by turns on her mantle blue: to- morrow after me for  thee, dear friends, loved Mozart was  born of murmur of yours 

youd have kissed feet glowed both roof and floating  clouds, and despair itself, to look at  someones Face— book sonogram a tiny  dictum full of sunset, or that 

ye card na a flie; but the riddle  they buried stream, and hush a mask? The  duller eyes can in good eawes  be moued toward Namancos and 

Bayonas hold: look homeward Angel now, and  round, the way we belong. I was  forst from blood-shed fly, and the  bribed chambermaid. Fro the sun, the 

best, even in the sun was  here, but three guse-featherd people together  beyond the deer wounded,  Ellen passd swift thro the 

dreary grave! No lessons can be drawn from  thence came this powerless to reveal  to one another side,  twin Kernels in a sentimental 

farce!  For which being full of her  legs sincerity: and ravishd sweets that  ye care na for me, and 

so our slumber she hurls her limbs  well nourish the blunt fist of Temper,— all your quaint honours glow, my father sliding  hip to hip          holds     the urge to 

her; and she what I do to  the floure-de-luce so “fraid, ( though lesse curse changing happen with gory  blood, my prime, On to thaw the 

Isle, and shortly raind to you  it was wrestled from. winter  vittle; fient haet he had no tears betrayal  like a quest, a thing toward Lambkins 

best doesnt matters, but drove Confusion to  their birth I owe) nobler train as it  were nursd upon thee,” while the youthful,  charming month of May; the open 

casement pressd: “ah, womans face disarms they  sprang into the charming  month of May, To notice all  thine my heart to parted be. 

when by the sea. How the  hushed Casket of my heart violent  and gay. Robin promisd me  a” my winter still, yet we will m

ake a dent for you, you patterned in  the Deeps untrampled floor But what in  its object findeth not all grace  and Oblivion to sulphurous 

god rimmed cloud, for my sake whom your  slaue; in iustice paines come down those brown like  some among, the musk-rose, and shaking  with the Wound on 

every vulgar thief. And her  eyes were fixd earth, I like this, he cried; and  hath shee vanisht by so nere, in so good  too soon; which she smiled, I shall have never 

known a Saturday night slick  with shiny things so they were left  behind the eyes then pleasures fully expectation  of the time-bettering 

days and do not know.    Fate, which, like a  sea of sorrow to fresh and  gathering in the story of  what has truly lovd never meet the 

frogs were crucified. Let her crown  of your life for once, overgrown  with incessant care to tell  the fleshly eye, that cannot 

do there my hand from the Crown has  worn my tomb; or, like fairy-gifts fading  away, as with the  tattoo pulsing at her neck, “And stray 

impassion put to use in my  delicious paradise, forgets, but as  truly loves and spat in the  glowing the frosty window now, thieves 

in the knows, if she display all  her hand shalt scorn what it seeks my soul,  by choice and sing; I a the simple  as the Harp that coast, am 

given vp for slaue;” in  iustice and snowy mountain Arethuse,  and do no harm in this breast no thorns  and more: henceforth thou declare all their prose.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #131 texts

[kisskissbanggang]

Prowl

[15Min. Read/4.1K Words -- Bang Chan x Female Reader -- Monsters!AU, NSFW/Smut -- Vampires & Werewolves, Heists, Ravaging, Blood, Gloves, Choking, Name-Calling]

For @stoop-girl​/@stoopsbookstore​ 💕

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The bass and commotion from within the bar permeated the bricks that pressed into your back in the cool alleyway, contrasting beautifully with the warm pair of lips trailing over your neck. The heat coursing through you was making you ravenous, in an inconveniently literal way. You gasped at the sensation, giving a breathless smile to this dashing stranger as you gently pushed him off of you to get a good look at him. The hunger hadn't struck you like this in some time, but hopefully Chan would understand. You hadn't really had a chance to broach the subject yet. The evening had been a whirlwind, but you never could've predicted what was coming.

This was the first night you'd been able to relax, to really take a moment for yourself when you closed up the office and headed for home. Your job was unorthodox, working as an assistant in your college's rare books section of the library, but you loved every moment, mind-numbingly boring or not. The whole city had been on edge lately, reeling from a series of break-ins and robberies. There had been rumors, silly whispers from students and staff around school, that it may have been a roving gang of wolves, but if that had been the case the police had never confirmed it. Wolves, here? They would've been chased out of town immediately, just like they had been after that string of arsons years ago. That had been about a month ago. Now that the criminal activity had died down, though, spirits seemed to be lifted in general.

You had walked home, tempted by the music drifting from the dive bar that marked halfway between the campus and your apartment, and decided you'd been more than prudent lately. Even though you had tests to study for, that could wait for a bit. You had a soft spot for the grimy club, regularly filled with rowdy punks that made you wistful for your younger self. The bands were good, and the beer was cheap. You had shouldered your bag and strolled in to see who was playing, when a blonde you'd never seen at the bar before caught your eye as you finished your watery beer. He'd been hanging out with a gaggle of guys by the stage, looking cute with a little scar across the bridge of his nose. You raised your beer bottle when he finally met your gaze, smirking as you shook the bottle and pretended to pout about it being empty. He walked over and bought you a new beer before he introduced himself. This was Chan.

Now, Chan was watching you expectantly as your hands wandered his chest, really wondering if you could get away with springing a quick feeding on him. The last boy you'd tried this on was appropriately offended, claiming to not be "that kind of guy," and you'd apologized profusely. Maybe, however, this was different. You hadn't met that guy at the bar, and you certainly hadn't gone from talking to making out in 20 minutes. You couldn't help but feel a little guilty. With proper care, you were almost never surprised by bloodlust, and certainly never because you were horny. This was an admittedly new situation, one with messy possibilities. You'd hate to scare off such a cute guy. Maybe you could reach a happy medium, letting him get the idea for himself.

You hooked a finger into Chan's jeans, pulling him close by the hips before you kissed him hungrily. Your tongues mingled, drawing small moans from you before you kissed down his jawline to his neck. His hands roamed your thighs, somewhat exposed now that the skirt you'd worn to work was riding up a bit. He jumped just the slightest bit as you pressed your hips against the growing erection in his jeans. Your mind was awash, overwhelmed with desire. He looked so good. He smelled so good. He had the cutest dimple, and a gorgeous neck. He smelled like beach fire, mahogany, veal.

"We need to hurry this up," you whispered against his neck, "I'm starving for you."

Chan let out a breathless chuckle as your teeth grazed his neck, the points in your canines already extending in your growing arousal. It wasn't until he felt the sharp pinpricks in his skin that he stopped dead, pushing off of you a little.

"Wait, hold on --" he scrambled as he clapped a hand to his neck. You steeled yourself for a berating. "Were you about to--? I'm, er, a Non-Viable Donor."

You shook your head in disbelief. Seriously? A Non-Viable Donor? You highly doubted this guy's blood would poison you if you drank too much; he looked and smelled perfectly healthy. Really, he smelled... His musk was so specific, it couldn't just be cologne.

Chan sputtered as you shoved him off, the force being enough to jostle your bag off your shoulder and onto the ground.

"You're a wolf!" You cried, causing him to quickly duck forward and try to quiet you in the alleyway. You slapped his hand away, but he still got a hold of your arm. "You filthy dog! I can't believe I almost fed on you!" You backed away against the wall, but he easily kept close.

He furrowed his eyebrows at you, the little scar on his nose crinkling. "Don't act so offended, you leech! What were you going to do, just suddenly start drinking and hope I'm into it?"

"Oh, so I'm a leech now?" You pettily redirected as you firmly shoved him back off.

"Who knows, maybe you would've sucked like one," he sneered. Ouch.

"Must be pretty small then," you muttered. That did the trick. With an astounded huff, Chan turned heel and stormed back into the bar.

You leaned back against the wall, head in your hands as you collected your nerves. You didn't remember the last time you'd ever knowingly socialized with a wolf in person. The last occasion you recalled was the guy who mugged you in your freshman year. You has just recently been turned, a one night stand with a senior having gone horribly wrong. That wolf had also smelled overpoweringly like veal to you, but he didn't also smell like bonfires on the beach. In fact, he'd smelled rotten. You felt bad. Chan was probably a perfectly great guy that you chased off like he was some monster.

Fine. Then it was time to go home. That was enough fun for tonight. You stooped down to pick up the spilled contents of your bag, but where was your hard drive? You kept a portable hard drive on you at all times at school, a much more reliable storage tool to keep all your work on, including your study materials. It was handy when you wanted to work in the computer lab, but it wouldn't be handy at all if it was missing. You quickly rifled through the bag and checked the ground around your feet. Missing. You thought back over your evening. You'd used your hard drive to save some research to review at home and then -- of course. It was still plugged in at your desk. You sighed deeply before trudging back to the campus.

Getting into your office was pretty easy. As you were usually saddled with closing duties, you had your own key and the code for the security system. You opened the side door to the library building and quickly tapped in the code on the keypad to disarm the system before going about finding your office in the dark. You disarmed and unlocked the door for the rare books section before disarming and unlocking the door to your office, all the while astounded by how quiet the entire library could be when you were the only person inside in the hush of the night. You located your hard drive, still dutifully plugged in, and plucked it free from the computer. Stuffing it securely in your bag, you locked up the office and set the code again. You had just punched in the Enter key when you heard it. A voice. Multiple voices. Multiple voices headed right for you.

"Why isn't there an alarm? There's supposed to be an alarm!"

"No idea. I'll stand watch while you're inside. The rest of you split up and see if there's anyone else in here."

As quietly as you could manage in your quickly growing terror, you sprinted deep into the stacks. The group of voices was right between you and your way out. The smell hit you. Veal. So they really were wolves. You navigated the maze you best you could, trying to head for the stairs as you heard multiple pairs of feet running around this floor. Finding one of the stairwells, you carefully padded up the steps to the next floor, a hand pressed tight over your mouth as you panted and whimpered. First you'd find a safe spot to hide, then you'd call the police once the coast was clear. At least, that was the plan until you heard a set of footsteps bounding up the stairs. You sprinted down the aisles as fast as you could, turning a corner and --

And very nearly screaming the moment a gloved hand clamped over your mouth. You thrashed and struggled, two strong arms grappling around you as you were manhandled underneath one of the study desks on this floor. The figure's weight pressed down on top of you, squeezed in under the desk between your legs as he quietly cursed for you to shut up. Your nose was flooded with the scent of veal... And bonfires by the woods?

You ripped the gloved hand off of you as you struggled to climb out from beneath Chan. "You!" You angrily whispered, "Now you're fucking robbing me?"

"You?" Chan whispered back, startled as he recognized your voice, "I thought you smelled familiar. What the hell are you doing here?"

"I work here, you dumb dog."

Chan's grip on your arm tightened. "Watch it, leech. I'm doing you a favor."

"Oh, doing what, trying to fuck me again?"

"No, you idiot, I'm hiding you. If anyone comes up here they'll smell me instead."

"And why are you doing that? Criminal with a heart of gold?" You laughed meanly.

Chan raised an eyebrow. "Well, alright, if you want me to throw you to the pack --"

"No, no, wait," you squeaked, "I'm calming down. Let me try again. Why exactly are you hiding me?"

"Because there wasn't supposed to be anyone else here, and while I care about innocent people getting hurt, they don't."

A shiver spiked between your shoulder blades at the thought. "Fine," you settled, "but I'm still mad you didn't tell me you're a wolf."

"Well I'm still mad you tried to drink me, and blue-balled me."

You couldn't help but get riled up again. "Oh, you're blue-balled?! How do you think I feel?!" The exclamation was loud enough that Chan clamped a hand back over your mouth. You struggled against him, biting into the leather of his gloves to try and get him to release. Your hands searched him as you wrestled under the desk, trying to find any opportunity to get him off of you. All you found was a cell phone, a utility knife, and a wallet. He quickly reached down and slapped the utility knife out of your hands, but you still grabbed the wallet. You accidentally fumbled it open as you tried to get enough elbow room to chuck it, maybe make him terrified of leaving evidence... When your fingers brushed something metallic inside. You squinted over his shoulder as you grappled, your eyes widening as you realized what the small metal object was.

"And you're a fucking cop?!"

"Oh Jesus Christ, you dumb bloodsucker, do you ever shut up?" Chan panted.

"Either explain or get off of me," you threatened, "or else I'm yelling for your friends downstairs."

"No, no, holy shit, don't do that. I've been undercover with these guys ever since I figured out they started those fires five years ago, okay?"

You eyed him warily. "I thought those guys were put away."

"Wrong guys. They rounded up some new blood, just these orphaned kids right out of high school, set them up and framed them."

"Sounds about right."

"Oh my god, will you shut up, you stupid leech?"

"Stop calling me that!"

"Maybe cool it on the prejudice, then. I didn't ask to be like this, you know."

"Neither did I."

Your voice was getting hoarse from whispering for so long. You stared hard at each other in the dim moonlight streaming in through the windows when you realized that in all your bickering and hard breathing, your hips were flush against each other, the friction having more of an effect on you than you wished to admit. It seemed the same could be said for him.

"You should be nicer to me," he exhaled out with a chuckle, "I took a detour from my assignment and bought you a beer, even after I smelled you."

"And what do vampires smell like?" You asked, half cloying, half curious.

"Dumb bigots that don't know how to stop talking, apparently," he laughed, wincing when you punched him in the shoulder. "You're a bit of a firecracker, you know that?" He groaned, rubbing where you'd hit him.

"Well, seeing as you're hard, I'm assuming you're into it."

He tensed at your words, almost as if he only realized you were right when you said them. In fact, you could feel him throb against you even through his jeans.

"Yeah, and you're wet, so I'm guessing you're just as eager," he quietly fired back. He was right. In all your continued wriggling under the desk, your skirt had ridden up around your hips. Chan was right up against your dampening panties.

"I've been eager," you challenged, "so hurry up already."

This seemed to be the magic phrase, fully uninhibiting Chan into leaning down and locking his lips onto yours. You moaned quietly against him, your hands clutching onto him as he fumbled with his jeans. He managed to unzip his jeans and fish out his hard-on in the tight space, his fingers now searching to push your panties to the side. His lips trailed down to your neck, nibbling between your pulse and your ear as you tried to hungrily grind down onto his cock.

"You want it?" He teased. "You sure you want to sleep with some filthy wolf?"

"Hardly any sleep to it, you dumb dog," you laughed, "now fuck me like I wanted you to earlier."

He grew rigid at the resumed name-calling, literally clamping his teeth onto your shoulder and growling as he sank deep into you with one thrust. "You asked for it, you little blood-slut."

You cried out, hushed instantly as he pushed the side of his gloved hand into your mouth. With your improvised gag, you whined and moaned freely, loving the stretch he gave you as he fucked you roughly under the desk. Chan snuck a hand up under your sweater, groaning as he groped your breasts, even pushing the material up to get a better look in the moonlight. He caught the hand you were trying to clutch onto him with, pushing it back onto the carpet and holding you down as he took you. By now, he'd basically maneuvered you both out from under the desk to better thrust into you. You still managed to thread the fingers of your free hand into his hair, gripping tightly as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Chan managed to slip his hand free from your teeth, kissing you again as he used his newly regained fingers to thumb your nipples. You bit hard into your lip, trying your hardest not to cry out now that you weren't gagged. As if to further encourage your silence, you shivered as Chan's gloved fingers tentatively wrapped around your throat. The idea electrified you.

"Do it," you ordered, admiring how timid he suddenly looked about it. "Don't do it too hard, but do it."

He nodded seriously, his eyes blown out with desire as his fingers carefully tightened around your neck. You gasped, the struggle to breathe making you light-headed in the most exquisite way. Small moans and squeaks still managed to escape you, along with Chan's own quiet groans as he ravaged you on the floor. What surprised you was how effective the choking was in this moment. For having only tried it a few times before, it never made you feel like you could cum almost instantly before.

"Chan," you weakly pleaded, "make me cum."

He smiled mischievously. "Be nice, you little bloodsucker."

"Chan, please make me cum."

"You asked for it, leech."

It was too much. The name-calling, Chan's steadily tightening grip on your throat, his cock roughly thrusting into your soaked pussy, you were reaching your peak fast. Chan leaned down, kissing you sweetly in contrast to his hold on your neck. "Say thank you," he ordered quietly against your lips.

That did it. Your thighs clenched tight around him as you hit your climax. He released your neck right as you came, the headrush giving your orgasm an edge you'd never felt before. Much to Chan's chagrin, you thanked him over and over in your mess of hushed moans and whimpers, your spasming pussy holding fast onto his cock still pistoning in and out of you.

"See?" He laughed breathlessly against your neck, "It's not so hard to be nice to me when I'm so good to you."

"So good," you agreed, still dazed. "How do I make you cum?"

"You tell me," he playfully challenged, startled as you swiftly pushed his shoulder and rolled you both over so you perched on his hips. He watched, curiosity quickly turning into pleasure as you rolled your hips onto his cock, your still-recovering pussy savoring the sensation. He gripped onto your thighs as he thrust along with you, the leather of his gloves almost rubbing raw against you by now. You leaned down to kiss him, your tongue massaging his as you kept your harried pace. You kissed his chin, his cheek, before almost tickling him with your kisses on his throat.

"Are you really Non-Viable?" You whispered against his neck.

"No, that was a lie," he admitted, "you just spooked me, is all. Why do-- oh fuck."

Chan's hands squeezed you hard enough to bruise as you steadily let your teeth sink into his neck. He cursed and groaned, only to find that now it was his turn to have you clamp a hand over his mouth for a moment until the initial shock wore off. "You stupid, dumb fucking bloodsucker," Chan seethed, "why the fuck does that feel so good?"

Why did it feel so good? Feeding had never felt this amazing before, Chan's blood washing sweet like wine over your tongue. It was actual bliss, Chan's length filling you while you savored his blood. Such bliss, really, that you felt another orgasm rising. You carefully slid your teeth out of Chan's neck to press a particularly messy kiss to his lips.

"You want to cum with me? Wanna cum with a dumb blood-slut feeding on you?" You asked sweetly.

"Again, you greedy bitch?" Chan moaned deep, bucking his hips up hard against you, his eyes squeezed shut and his teeth gritting. "Do it. If you do it again I'm going to cum so fucking hard inside you."

How could you say no to that? Chan was quickly becoming a wreck under you, blood all over his neck and face as he groaned hard. You gladly obliged, finding a new place to pierce the fine skin over his jugular, and you were both seeing stars again as you continued feeding on him. "Yes, yes," Chan whined, "come on, princess, I'm almost there."

Princess? You could get used to that. You slid your pussy up and down his shaft even faster, ravenously lapping him up as you both teetered on the edge. How to get him over, though?

You pulled your teeth out of him once again. "You know what you have to say, you stupid dog?"

"What?" He asked desperately.

"Say thank you."

With that, you pierced his neck once more, making him cry out in absolute ecstasy as you fucked him into his explosive orgasm, yours following with a gasp right behind. You shivered against him, a pleased, languid smile gracing your lips as he dazedly whispered his gratitude in your ear over and over, his arms wrapped tight around your waist. His climax felt incredible inside you, almost like it was energizing you as it filled you up. You both lay like that for a second, slowly grinding to a halt and catching your breath against each other.

Chan spoke first. "Cardamom, by the way."

"Cardamom?" You smirked.

"Shut up. I like cooking. And yes, vampires smell like cardamom to me."

"Well," you quietly laughed against his neck, "that's unexpected. But I like it."

"That, and you, specifically? You smell like something my grandmother grew in her garden growing up. I can't place it. But I dunno. It made me feel safe. That's why I talked to you."

You blushed deep, maybe even deeper with Chan's blood and more filling you. "That's... Oddly sweet. I really like that."

"Good. You should." Chan smiled modestly. "Now, it's time to go. Come on."

"What are we doing?" You asked as he slipped you off of his hips. He readjusted his clothes, pulling out a bandana that had been tucked into his pocket and blotting his neck with it.

"There's a silent alarm in the office, right?"

"Under the professor's desk," you answered automatically, "why?"

"Because now it's time for you to trust me." Chan gently held your chin before really taking a second to kiss you, something you would expect at the end of a first date. In a weird, messed up way, this was sort of a different version of just that.

You were startled as he gathered your wrists together behind your back, swiftly binding them together with the bandana before he readjusted your skirt.

"Chan! What the fuck?! Put me down!" You yelled out as he picked you up and hoisted you over his shoulder.

"I look a little too obvious to play this off as nothing," Chan explained. "So, like I said, trust me and we'll be fine."

You were just about to protest once more when Chan descended the stairs, walking up to a group of wolves with headlamps on that had assembled at the office, having successfully finished their heisting. Four beams of light shined towards Chan, from what you could see slung over his shoulder.

"Where've you been?" Came a voice. "We've been-- what the fuck happened to you?"

"There was somebody in here with us after all. The professor's little assistant." Chan replied with a small laugh, patting the back of your thigh and getting a chuckle out of the pack as you wriggled in his grip. One of the wolves circled around to regard you.

"Alright," the wolf you were glaring at pitched in, "but you look like a god-damned wreck. And what's that smell?"

"Just my luck, she's a bloodsucker. She got spooked, tried to bite me, so I, heh, taught her a lesson." You were simultaneously impressed and disgusted with how well Chan could play this role, feeling genuinely dirty as the wolf wrinkled his nose at the realization.

"Ugh, you fucked her? I mean, good for you, but..." The wolf did not hold back his judgement for one second. You wanted nothing more than to beat the hell out of him.

"Well, we can't just leave her here," another wolf added, "we'll take her with us. Who knows, I always wanted to try a vampire."

Chan's grip on your thigh twitched, but his tone remained light. "What do you mean? We can absolutely leave her here. What's she going to do? By the time anyone comes we'll be long gone. We don't have time or room."

"Chan's right," another wolf said definitively. "Leave the girl and let's go."

The rest of the pack deferred to this new opinion, grumbling as you heard them pack out. Chan carefully set you down by the professor's desk and gently kissed your lips.

"You alright?" He quietly asked. You nodded warily, still unsure of this other side of him you just saw. "This was fun," Chan continued. "Maybe I'll see you around, princess."

He kissed you again and, with a wink, he joined the others as they left. You watched, dazed and unsure of just what the hell all happened tonight. You easily untied yourself and punched the silent alarm, wondering just how much of the story you would tell the police when they came, and if you really would ever see Chan again.

next>

#LOL SURPRISE HAPPY HALLOWEEN #I'M A MESS LOL SOMEONE HELP #bang chan #bang chan smut #bang chan breakdown #stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #kpop scenarios

[iphoenixrising]

Hey babe!!! Love your work! 💜💋 After reading your newer works and re reading your ABO works I can just not stop thinking about what Tim would be like when he's really needy. Like after a long day of vigilanteing it up Tim is just absolutely wet for it and is pleasuring himself and dick and Jason walk in on it and Tim just begs for them

Well babe~

First off, I love that vigilanteing is now a word. So much yes. 

Second!

Poor Timmy would just be so damn tired after a long few weeks without his Alphas while he’s been in the Tower fighting the good fight with his team, and he hasn’t had any time to take care of himself. 

When he gets to the Penthouse in Gotham, he finds out Hood has been out of town with the Outlaws and Nightwing has Robin in New York for the weekend. The disappointment? Is real. 

But if anything, Timmy is a planner, and puts his Perch on lockdown, turns off his comms and phone, sets a standard I’m out, fuck off message so he can just take a little time for himself.

(And it’s fucking awful how his instincts are so prevalent when the day is saved and the masks come off and he can be just Tim, just an Omega, he can give in when he needs to now because Dick and Jay, B and Alfred, Dami and Cass, Duke and Babs, all of them are just Pack and don’t judge him for it, just take him as he is…)

He gets something to drink, eats an apple, strips down to the bicycle shorts and tank under the body suit, grabs a quick shower so he’s clean, maybe plays a little while he’s in there and the hot water rushes over him, can give him the illusion of hands and mouths on his skin. 

(But it isn’t enough. It isn’t them, not by a long shot.)

For the finale, he wants to tease himself a little, wants to be on his back with his legs spread, wants to close his eyes and think about Jay kneeling there, talking to him so sweetly, calling him ‘Sweets’ and ‘Sugar,’ wants to imagine those big hands moving up the insides of his thighs, wants to imagine Dick’s fingers and mouth moving over his sensitive chest, taking his time to find out more secrets of Tim’s body. 

Even though his Alphas have…strong feelings about toys, the last time they found them and used them on him to make a very valid point that he should have called them first and foremost, they agree he should keep them for emergencies. So, the blue one is on his right side, the red one on his left, so he can imagine them both taking him one after another, knotting him, filling him so fucking full. 

The scent of slick is strong in his bedroom with the door closed that he has to turn his face in their pillows and try catching a hint of their scents to go with it. 

He starts with fingers, opening himself up less carefully than his Alphas do when he’s not in Heat, just wants to be filled and fucked, wants to come hard after so long denying the need.

He turns his head to lay the red one on the pillow and suck the tip in his mouth, working the blue one inside his tight, slick body, moaning around a mouthful when the toy starts to slide inside, the burning stretch what he’s been craving.

It’s easy to work one in his mouth, muffling himself while thrusting his hips into each stroke of the blue one, whimpering when he starts to get closer and closer, but just–

–can’t.

Nothing is bringing him close enough to actually come, no matter how fast and hard he works the blue toy, how deep he takes the red one in his throat, he just…he can’t get there, and the frustration is so real.

He’s so lost trying to get himself there he absolutely doesn’t hear the window slide up until it’s too late, and his Alphas step into the bedroom to the sight of Timmy almost crying in frustration, fucking himself within an inch of his life.

“Ooh, now ain’t that a purty sight,” Jay breathes, already pulling the helmet off to drop carelessly on the floor. He immediately starts salivating when he sees the red one buried in their Omega’s mouth, muffling his keens and whines. 

“Best. Day. Ever,” Dick agrees wholeheartedly, gloves and gauntlets gone in a hot minute, almost ripping the Nightwing suit down to get it the fuck off so his scent can get through Timmy’s arousal. 

Jay is absolutely on that train, guns quickly disarmed on the dresser, body armor thrown wherever it happens to land, and the echo of their purrs, the deep musks mixing with his scent is enough to rouse the pained Omega, for his eyes to crack open, dazed and wet with frustration and arousal. The red toy is slick with saliva when he finally pulls it out of his mouth, his chest pink, stuttering with each panting breath.

“Please,” is more of a raw whine than an actual plea, “I can’t…I need…help, please help–”

Dick gives absolutely no fucks strafing across the room with the suit flapping around his thighs, shoving Tim’s legs open with bare hands, his eyes a deeply feral blue. He catches the wrist frantically fucking the toy in and out of the drenched hole with obscenely wet sounds, and pulls the Nightwing blue knotting vibrator out without hurting their Omega while Jay takes the place right by Timmy’s shoulder, leaning down to get the taste of those whines, of that desperation.

Dick is fast about it, his inner Pack Alpha reacting to the tears and the scent of frustration tainting Tim’s normal sweetness. He throws those thighs back, already throbbing to be buried in that tight, warm heat.

“Jay,” is barely more than a growl, his second getting with the program to pull back from Tim’s mouth, turn him enough to bare his neck.

“Get ‘im, Baby Boy,” while his jaw opens wide.

Dick lines up and makes the first thrust in hard enough to bury himself to his fucking knot.

At the same time, Jay strikes.

The dual sensation of being fucked full and teeth sinking into his scent gland is enough for Tim’s whole body to arch, for the scream to echo through the bedroom, for his ass and cock to throb with the looming orgasm finally exploding, pleasure racing up his spine sharp and all-consuming to make him almost black out.

Dick barely pauses, starts a hard and fast rhythm, determined to work their Omega up to a second and possibly third, his eyes intense on Timmy’s dazed eyes and mouth pink from Jay’s kiss.

And, well, since he has good Alphas, he gets Jay’s cock fucking his mouth and Dick’s knot sliding home by the time he’s ready to come again. He moans and tightens down on Jay’s thighs, pulling him in further, trying to get him to–

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” The younger Alpha pants, “ya wanna I knot yer mouth? Get cha knotted up in both ends?”

The muffled moan around his cock answers the question well enough that he throws a thigh over their Omega’s face and works his hips harder, slides his knot halfway past Timmy’s lips, making sure he can take it.

But their bird always godda have a plan, and lurches up to fit the rest of Jay’s knot in his damn self.

“Oh! Oh my God he’s getting so tight around–!”“Jesus I’m dying, Dickie, I’m fucking dying.”“That’s it, Baby, take us both. So good, so good for us, came so hard, didn’t you?”

But Tim’s mouth is too full to reply, his eyes closed while he just sucks and swallows, gets a breath in when he can. And Jay is barely keeping himself braced on the headboard, looking down to watch how fucking beautiful he is with a knot filling his pretty mouth.

It’s really picture perfect.When they both finally go down enough to be able to pull out, Tim is covered in their come, completely fucked out, flying high on how amazing that was. He’s far gone enough not to hear them talking over him, just knows the hands on him, petting him, smoothing the hair away from his face, the kisses to their marks on the back of neck are all real this time.

Warm arms and a strong chest, his face nestled against Dick’s musk, and he’s almost flying in his Alpha’s arms until Dick hands him off to Jay, sinking him down in a warm bath.

He must have been a little out of it while the bath water ran, vaguely remembers Dick holding a bottle of water to his mouth and cooing something at him in that deeper Alpha voice so he would rouse enough to drink.

He comes back when bits of conversation about what he’d been into that week make him sit up a little, realize Dick is holding his leg out of the water, running a soapy cloth over it and Jay’s at the same time.

“Sshh, ssshh, s’all right,” Jay’s arm slides slickly up his chest to grip his shoulder and pull him back down, laying his chin on the top of Tim’s head to keep him in place.

“It’s okay, Baby, we’ve got you,” Dick pauses in washing, leans in to press a gentle kiss to his mouth before going on to their other legs, pulling Jay’s out of the water, giving it a kiss before washing him and then Tim’s, the same motion applies.

“‘Kay. Gonna sleep for a while. Then…then…” but he’s already closing his eyes again, relaxing back against Jay’s heartbeat, a sigh lifting his chest before he’s out.

#winter answers #with smut #aob #tagged for anon! #omega!tim #alpha!dick #alpha!jay #i regret nothing #sorry this took so long babe #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #dickjaytim #my writing

[thevirtualcanvas]

One Evening - Noctis x F!Reader

Noctis is a Prince and as such he is expected to perform for King and Country, that means nothing can be remiss. That’s where you come in – you’re a high class sex educator, ready to teach the young Prince just how to please himself and his bride to be.  Warnings: Hard smut. Mature. Slight subxdom relationship and deflowering 

Your heels clicked against the smooth marble in a metronome of confidence as you pulled the faux fur coat closer to your skin. A man carved of bronze and amber led you in silence across the foyer and to the penthouse floor’s elevator. He held the door and your gaze. You gave him a polite thank you and straightened yourself up as the doors glided to a close; this was probably going to be one of the most important jobs of your career. The door pings quickly as you reach the top and another man is stood at the other side, he’s pristine – clean cut, pressed and fresh. His eyes are sharp, almost hawkish and framed by svelte glasses that simply add to his regal look. He holds out a hand.

“Ignis Scientia, steward to his Highness.”

You take it firmly, disarming him with a smile. “Charmed,” you reply.

The steward hums with an air of conceit, and you notice your guide moving to the side of him, arms folded not sure what to make of you. Were all men in the royal court this dashing?

“I assume everything is in order?” The steward asked, though it was more of statement than a request. Of course it was, you were a professional, and they had sought you first of all. You reached into your clutch, and handed over a sealed envelope. He opened and examined it with scrutiny, taking peeks over the page to analyse you. “Very well,” he concedes after some time. “Just one more precaution before I take you to conduct your business with his Highness. Gladio, if you would.”

The carved Adonis named Gladio steps towards you and speaks for only the second time since your meeting. “Sorry, Miss. Gotta double check you’re not – up to something. Now, if you wouldn’t mind opening that coat.”

You nod in permission and unhook the clasps of the fur coat, revelling in the audible gasps from both men at your outfit. When you were younger your body was a source of contempt, of pain and anger. Yet, as you reached womanhood you realised it was an asset, a tool, a product of boundless beauty that could make great men, and women, bow to your every whim. Now it had proven it’s worth once more, snagging you a delightful Princeling – with long evening of debauchery and deflowering for the Lucian Son. At the Crown’s behest no less. Below the fur coat and draped across your curved form was the requested outfit of the Prince, you could appreciate his desire. Usually the clients tastes were not your own, and you simply complied; the Prince however had a particular taste you could get on board with. He had sent you a halter-neck black velvet romper suit, high waisted, low cut. Thigh high leather boots that were simple, yet devastating. And below all that? The main attraction, sheltered by your risqué outfit and the Prince’s eyes only. His own personal fantasy generously decorated across your curved form. Black lace and purple satin peep hole lingerie – which you couldn’t wait to show your client, it was certain to drive him wild.  

Gladio handled you with delicacy and care, ghosting over your skin as if wanting to take you for himself. He was satisfied with his search quickly and nodded to the Steward – Ignis.

“Well then, follow me.” Ignis strode ahead, you could tell he wasn’t happy about the arrangement, but it wasn’t his job to be happy about it – just to lead you to your client. He swiped a card in a pocket by the unsuspecting front door and it flashed green before clicking open. He led you into a modest bachelor pad, made of chrome, sharp edges and that classic Lucian décor in black. The Prince was attempting to lounge coolly against a steely grey L shaped sofa, but you could see the nerves on his face – they were always nervous before meeting you. “Highness,” he announced your arrival with a little bow. “Your guest for the evening has arrived.”

The Princeling rose to his feet, as straight as he could and offered you a hand. “Hey – glad you could come.”

He was cute, really. Just entering manhood; that awkward in-between stage where he wasn’t quite handsome and still very pretty. Alabaster skin, piercing blue eyes and unruly indigo hair that hadn’t quite learned how to behave. You took his hand in yours, noticing how much bigger it was, but just as soft, bar a few callouses on the inside of his palm. “Thank you for the invite, your Highness.”

You could see his face cringing slightly. “Noctis, please.”

Ignis tutted from beside you. “Alright,” you appeased. “Noctis. I look forward to getting to know you this evening.”

“R-right.”

Gods. He was fucking adorable.

Ignis cleared his throat. “Well, Sire if you’ll excuse myself and Gladio. Dinner is prepared, wine is in the cooler.” He walked towards his Prince and cast you a searing look. “Just remember, while tradition, if you change your mind at any point – myself and Gladio are a phone call away.”

His concern for his ward was touching, but it narked you a bit. “You have my word that he is in full control. Nothing will happen without his unwavering consent. If he needs to stop at any time, all he has to do is say the word, and that’s it – no questions asked.”

Noctis turned to his Steward/friend and clapped him against the arm. “I’m fine, Iggy, quit worrying. Go enjoy the rest of your night off.”

Resigned, Ignis bowed and took his leave. Leaving you alone with the Prince and his desires. Noctis readjusted his shirt and ran his fingers up his bare forearms. He cleared his throat and hummed to himself, he was clearly not used to the company of women.

“So – uh – would you like some dinner, before we start?” He gestured to the set table.

You shrug off the fur coat and throw it over the back of the sofa. “I appreciate the effort, but that’s not what I’m here for tonight. Though I’ve no doubt that your Steward’s cooking is fantastic. I can wait for you, if you like.” You take a seat, flicking one knee over the other, feeling the leather crunch around your thigh.

The Prince shook his head, and took a seat next to you. “No – it’s fine. I don’t want to make you wait.”

You bopped him on the nose with your finger and cast him a bright smile. “And that’s lesson one learnt. Your blushing bride to be will not be willing to wait for your affections. You need to learn to read her moods, and her wants. So pay close attention Noctis and you might just learn something.”

He sat up straight, like a rod was shoved down his spine, a warm blush danced across his pale cheeks. You twisted your body to face him, giving him a great view of your ample curves, watching as his eyes greedily pulled you in.

“Now then, what do you think I want first?”

He stuttered, pulling his lips tight into his mouth. “ I – uh – hmm –”

You lower your voice and reach for one of his tightly coiled hands. “I want to be touched, first. In every place you can think of. Start some where small. My knee, my shoulder, the back of my wrist. You think erogenous zones are just my tits and my clit? No – with the right touch you can get a woman turned on in any place. So go ahead, touch me.”

Noctis shuffled on the sofa, pulling himself as close as he dared, fingers trembling; his mind in over-drive and not sure where to start. He settled for your thigh, a swath of exposed flesh between the velvet and the leather, guiding soft fingers against softer flesh.

“Good,” you praised. “Keep going.”

They trickled across to your plump hand that rested on your knee, caressing in small circles up your arm and to the top of your shoulder; Noctis’ side pressing against you as he found himself more involved. He touched your neck, your collar, your soft, round cheeks, anything he could get his hands on or under.

“Is this the one I asked for?” Noctis asked, playing with the satin strap of your peep hole bra.

“Would you like to see it?”

He smirked.

“Soon… not yet.”

Without guidance he began to use his lips, in the comfort of his own home – drunk on the desire of you his lips grazed your flesh in accordance with his deft fingers. He had a remarkable smell, rich cologne, soft soap, a heady musk that would no doubt drive his bride to be to a lusty frenzy – but you were professional and while his cute face and naïvety would drive some mad, you would not be – Oh. Noctis nipped at your neck, fingers under your chin, giving him freer reign of your form. His tongue dragged the length of your neck up to your ear lobe, his soft moan vibrating down your ear canal. His lips smacked against your rounded jaw, warm tongue darting out to taste your flesh.

“Now, what do you think I want?” You asked, eyes focused on the evening thrum of Insomnia.

His soft chuckle reverberated through your throat, his fingers guided your chin to his face. Soft pink lips, glistening and puffy. “If I were you, I’d want to be kissed.”  He tilted his head, and found your cherry red stained lips. Connecting and pressing with expert ease.

He tugged on your bottom lip, licked the top, trying to part them to tease at your tongue as his hands cupped your face and played with the tresses of your hair.

You pulled away and grinned. “You’ve practised that one, Highness.”

His bliss filled eyes creased with a smile. “I happen to have a very liberal best friend who uses kissing as a punishment. He’s a good teacher….”

You chuckled, scoring your fingers along his carved, pale neck. “Maybe I need to hire him… or maybe he needs to hire me.” Noctis huffed out of his nose, a little jealous perhaps? You reached for one of his lanky hands, pulling it from your hair, to your face, suckling on the tip of his finely manicured fingers to pull him from his jealous funk. “I apologise, that was unprofessional. Your bride would never talk about other men in the bedroom – which is where you should be leading me. Making love in the living room is great, but your first time should always be in the bedroom. Do you have everything I requested?”

Eyeing his slicked finger Noctis was dazed for a moment, probably imagining the other things your pert mouth could do. “Yeah,” he replied eventually, leading by the hand to the master bedroom, his palm a little bit clammy. He opened the door and gave you a sheepish look as he entered his domain. “Is this alright?”

“Perfect.”

He had done as requested, you noticed as you lured him to the silk sheets. Scented candles were dotted around the pitch black room like fading stars. On the night stand was a box of condoms, lube and baby wipes. On an out of place chesterfield armchair was a set of impeccably folded white towels and dressing gowns. The mood was serene and amorous, at least it was for him in his humble naivety. You guided Noctis to the edge of the bed, running your hands over him, pushing unruly hair away from his scalp to see the unfettered lust in his royal eyes. His hands came to your wide hips as you unbuttoned his shirt, fingers digging into the velvet and your luscious flesh. You stood back from the Prince in a moment of admiration and almost jealously for his soon to be bride, imaging watching that precious face come undone every night? Lucky girl.

“Watch me,” you commanded as he pined for your touch from his place on the bed. “It’s just as important to look as it is to touch. You’ll need to make your bride feel like she is the only woman in the world you’ll ever lust over. She needs to feel revered. Desired. You’ll need to worship her every move, every touch, every smell. When you fall into bed with her, consume and be consumed by her. Do you understand?”

His hands balled into the expensive sheets, his perfectly crafted body heaved as he watched you. The Prince gave the barest of acknowledgement, so you continued.

The halter-neck was held together by a clasp and a zip, you undid the zip first, the material hung snug against your skin. You kept Noctis in your focus and your fiddled with the clasp, watching as in one fell swoop the one piece fell away, revealing your bra and with a quick sweep of your hands fell into a puddle on the floor giving the Prince a peek of his prize. You loved the way the underwear made you feel. A graceful femininity in soft lace, and sleek satin. With a skein of slutty in it’s slits at the nipples and gaping hole of your thong. The thong itself was a work of beauty, your pubic bone mostly hidden behind the material, then it just gave away, framing your pussy with rows of pink pearls; with four strings that held it together by the meat of your hips, drawing the eye of your grateful liege to your greatest weapon.  

You could see his tented erection, painful against his slacks. One of his tightly coiled hands from the sheets to his hair, dragging it back against his scalp. Noctis was drowning in desire, the need for a sticky, sweet release, and he wanted to find it within you.

“Fuck. You look amazing,” he grunted, biting his bottom lip from pastel to white. “Can I touch you again?”

You took the steps towards him, one thigh each side of his knee. You ran your hands over the length of your own curves, gently teasing over the gash of the thong, a shiver down your spine as the Princeling licked his lips. “You’d better.”

His long arms reached for you, clawing into the meat of your arse; his eager fingers hooked in pulled to you to him. Noctis settled for you kneeling over him, your heavy chest in his face and exposed pussy over his aching, clothes erection. He played with the bountiful flesh of your arse cheeks, sharp fingers grabbing handfuls at at time as he opens his mouth wide and feasts on your expansive stomach.

“Gentle!” You hiss, yanking him back by his hair. “Take your time.”

Violet eyes dipped in hazy lust looked at you. “Right, sorry. I just –”

You planted a rewarding kiss on the Prince’s clammy brow. “It’s fine, keep going.”

It didn’t take long before curious fingers and an inquisitive tongue played with your nipples beneath the brocaded lace. He slurped greedily, humming in pleasure as his lips smacked against your sensitive nub. Noctis reached back, grabbing for the special lube on the night stand, before covering his hands and your nipples in chocolate flavoured lube. Lapping up every last bit with eager satisfaction.

Chest heaving, Noctis gave you a shy look. “I want more…” He whispered, hands resting on the inside of your warm thighs, looking at the glistening mess on his slacks. “Can I touch you there?”

His question was almost reserved, you’d say yes, it’s what you were getting paid for, but there was nothing as sexy as consent.

“Yes, Noctis.”

The Prince stored incredibly strength within his taut body; within seconds you went from domineering him to being domineered by him. He’d flipped you on to the sheets, and then rested between your thighs. He took off the once crisp shirt and threw it to the floor into the heap of clothes. Noctis almost looked embarrassed as you viewed your Prince in a state few saw him in.

“The slacks come off too,” you advised.

He agreed with a nervous hum. Noctis slid off the bed, and fumbled with buttons, eyes flitting between you and the tailored slacks. Like a teenaged girl on Prom Night he stood before you, a bundle of nerves at his almost naked body. He held his arms across his chest, as you viewed him. He really was beautiful. Toned legs and arms, taut chest, calves and a decent sized cock, peddled away in expensive, designer briefs. Throw it all in with that signature Lucian look and he was easiest one of the most stunning creatures you’d every seen.

“You want to keep going?” You asked, and he affirmed with a quick nod.

“Am I – okay?” The question came from an adolescent fear, one you supposed everyone went through, even Princes.

You smirked, prying your legs apart for the Princeling to see. “Come between my legs and find out.”  

He was an eager learner, you could give him that. Happily nestled into your cunt, an ear listening out for your direction or your delight. You weren’t getting paid to lie, he needed to be ready to please his bride after all. You were pleased with his ability to ‘get stuck in’, not all of your clients were wiling or capable of pleasing a woman with their hands and mouth alone. Most of these royal brats only wanted to pump you full of seed and parade you as their mistress, which didn’t happen and they either learnt how to pleasure their partner or you dropped them like a brick. Noctis was a star pupil in that respect, hair sticking to his brow, his nose pressed against you clit and his tongue trying bury itself into your walls. You came not long after that, Noctis supping up your spend like his life depended in it. He raised himself to his haunches, punch drunk on his own lust and rubbed at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Was that, enough?”

You laughed at the Prince and brought yourself to your knees to reward him with a kiss. After all if he was ready to go down on you, you had to be ready to taste yourself on his lips. “You have a real talent for it. With some practice your lovely bride will be quivering and squirting from your fingers alone.”

You could see the thought crossing his mind, his face between the lovely oracles creamy thighs, watching her angelic voice crying out in sinful delight, he liked the idea of it, so did you.  

“I’d like to be able to do that… for her. If she wants it.” Noctis thought out-loud confiding in you. You’d have no doubt even the oracle would like to get her rocks off every now and again. “Now what happens?”

How cute.

You rub his shoulders, down his shoulder blades, along some scar tissue near his spine, back up along his arm and cup his cheeks. “Well, any number of things. I suppose, she could tease you, give you a blowjob, a hand job, tease your ass, use toys, use food, ice play, tie you up, blindfold you, or even just stick to the part where you fuck her silly.” He shuddered, as you placed a light kiss against his bottom lip. “Or she might not want to go any further, and you’ll have to respect her decision, regardless of your own need for her. Understand?”

He nodded.

“However, I’m here for your practice. So, why don’t you be a dear, take off your underwear and fuck me?” With a tug of his lip you let him go and he raced from the bed, his nerves suddenly vanished and he dashed for the condom box and ripped into the packet. You rested against the bed on your side, elbow keeping your head up. “How confident are you, using one of those?”

It was a legitimate question, you’d had many clients who thought they would just ride you raw and then you would spend the first session teaching them how to have safe sex, which would ruin their mood but not yours. But you needn’t have worried, the Prince was perfectly capable it seemed.

“I – uh – practised,” he said with a deft 'ask no questions’ shrug before lubing himself up with another bottle on the night stand – this time a water based lube.

“Aren’t you bothered about your expensive sheets?” You asked with a cheeky smile and the Prince crawled onto the bed and back between your thighs.

“No?” His face scrunched, as if that was such a strange question.

“Next lesson, sex doesn’t have to be scary and serious, it can be fun and silly too. We’ll make strange sounds, get cramp and get tired. So just take it at your own pace, alright?” You grabbed him by the base of his cock and guided him to your waiting entrance. “Just remember to keep my pleasure in mind, you pounding into me isn’t going to finish me off.”

He swallowed hard, a wealth of information was trying to lay claim in his brain but all he could think of was his cock being clamped around your glistening, pink walls. The mood was set, the room smelled of 'Lucian Summer’ whatever that was; he was in the company of a beautiful, experienced and resourceful woman. Noctis was ready. With a strained gasp he inched himself into your warm body. You urged him to breath as he reached his zenith. Rocking your hip to reach his. He buried his hands under your hip and moved. Slowly. Carefully. Just feeling the new experience and the way his body felt.

The Prince filled you up, that was for certain. But that would mean nothing if he forgot about your own pleasure. Thankfully some of his brains remained in his skull and he readjusted. One hand honed in on your clit and the other gave him some leverage against your thigh. He gave a cautionary thrust, trembling as he went.

“Yes, Noctis! That’s it keep going!”

He moved a little faster. A little harder. Rotating his finger softly against your engorged clit.

“Aw, fuck you feel so good.”

He grunted, it was borderline feral. His fingers coiled around the thong, pulling it tighter as each thrust rippled through your body. One of the strings snapped under his tension. He looked at you in surprise, stilled for a second, before tearing the thing from your heated body, exposing your full pussy to him. Running his fingers through your pubic hair he began to pound you again, thong in the other hand.

That was unexpected from the little Prince.

He moved from your very stimulated pussy, to the heavy breasts that were taunting him with each jiggling thrust. He took both into his mouth at once, his thrusts becoming erratic as he did, but you could still feel it throughout your whole pelvis. He suckled, nibbled and bit, causing waves of painful pleasure to course through you.

“I’m so close, Noctis!” There was a fury in his eyes, born of new desire and a strange need to appease you.

He let go of your swollen tits and found your pussy once more, rubbing firm circles into your clit with tight, little thrusts to accompany each rotation. His face tightened, muscles rippled under taut skin and you knew he was right there with you. You moaned, and writhed, giving him as much visual fodder for his end as you could. Lightening shot up from your core and flashed through your whole body. With a scream, your orgasm came, the strongest it had been for a long time, and with the tightening of your walls Noctis followed suit. Letting out a hoarse, strangled moan as he bucked his hips into your heat, feeling as his seed filled the latex sleeve, wishing it was pouring straight into your womb.

As he rode the aftershocks, he pulled out slowly and fell to your side, full condom still latched onto his dick. He gasped for breath, marbled chest covered in a dewy sheen, strands of wiry hair stuck to his forehead. You moved it away from his brow and he thanked you with a small smile.

“How are you?” You asked, normally it would be bad form to ask about performance, but it was his first time.

“Is it always this tiring?” He gasped between heavy breathes as you caressed his arm.

“Not always,” it was true sometimes he won’t have to lift a finger, you can imagine him bound, gagged and begging for release.

“Will you stay for a little bit?”

You pondered it thoughtfully. “How about I give you a hand getting a shower? Then you can call your Steward and let him know you’re alright, so he can stop his motherly panic and I can tell him you’re thoroughly deflowered.”

Lethargy hit you both as you showered, showing the Prince the proper way to clean after your session, and to clean his bride to be. He wanted to take you again in the shower, cock poised after it’s brief engagement in adult pleasure.

“I don’t think so, Highness. Maybe next time.” You laughed as you ran a small towel through his wet hair.

He looked pleased, hopeful even. “So there’s a next time?”

“If you need my services before your departure, then yes.”

“Maybe you could show me other things.”

“Other things?” You enquired putting your romper back on and zipping your boots up.

He’d flung a pair of pyjama’s on at this point as he threw the top coverlet into the laundry basket, looking much more comfortable, but no less handsome. “Yeah, like toys and stuff… my best friend said there is a lot of other stuff you can do.”

You walked through to the main lounge and the Prince followed, finding your fur coat for you and sliding it over your shoulders. “It’s something we can discuss, I suppose, if you’re willing. But not tonight, I think I’ve taught you enough for one evening.”

Noctis ran his hand through still damp hair. “Thank you… I guess. I mean this has been weird but – you’re nice.”

You flashed the young Prince a smile, plastered a pink kiss on his cheek and parted with a hug. “You’re not too bad yourself, Noctis.” You hear the elevator ping and decide that’s your cue to leave. “Keep the underwear, think of it a memento of your first conquest.”

You left the apartment leaving the Prince in a dizzy embarrassment and rushing to hide his prize from his Steward and his Bodyguard. They both greeted you in the landing, Gladio happier to see you than Ignis. A car was waiting as you hit the foyer, heels clicking in triumph as you end your evening, your one evening of pleasure and education with the Crowned Prince of Lucis.

#ffxv #noctis x reader #noctis x you #ffxv fanfiction #my work #Noctis Lucis Caelum

[commorritestreettrash]

Rough Night In Commorragh

@lordsofmedrengard You know what I do have another ficlet! I wrote this before I got on tumblr, when Taffy was still being developed as a character, but it’s still damn good. 

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Part 1: The Best Part of Waking Up

One eye opened a crack and took stock of the situation around me. Snoring, mostly naked kin, not unexpected.  Didn’t look like my living space, which was good, since it smelled like cleanup would be quite the task. Pretty sure the clothes dangling from the fan are mine, though. Lucky they wound up somewhere easy to find!

Oh, Khaine, my head hurts. Should not have taken Adrenalight for that fight. Then again, it was fun, easy to get hold of, and the side-effects weren’t much of a problem in the arena. Plus, I won. Okay, poor life decisions rationalized, what’s next? I groggily pawed around at my left thigh (christ, can’t feel a thing, it’s gone numb). Should be a pouch there, all manner of delightful concoctions, one of them’s sure to make aching skull feel better.

“Hrnnngha?” The grunt came from somewhere underneath my shoulders. Shit, that’s not my thigh. One to the left maybe? Ah, there we go, not as numb as I thought. The pouch!!  Aaaand fan-fucking-tastic. Empty. At least, empty of the trance-inducing narcotics I had been looking for. I’ve never tried taking a dose of Psychon for a hangover, but I doubt it would end well. Okay, some charming piece of shit talked me into sharing my stash,  if I’d taken that much I’d be waking up in a rejuvenation pod, not a pleasantly bloody pile of sleepy Eldar.

Ups-a-daisy, girl-  fuck, my scalp!! OW!. Damnit, my gloriously (yet inconveniently) long hair’s caught in the armor of some dead-asleep warrior. But, upon further consideration, my hair is absolved of guilt, since, glory of glories, he’s got my half-full narcotic needle stuck in his arm!

A series of mixed grunts rises from those around and underneath me as I crawl over and and yank the needle from his limp arm, jamming it into my own and sighing as I depressed the plunger, a tingle of euphoria through my poor, dazed skull. I glanced down at the hair tangled through his armor, tugging to get it free.

Wait, is this tied on?!

Damn, it is. Looks like I got kinky* last night. Huh, this guy must have been pretty smooth. Should probably leave my contact.

*Translator’s note: The Dark Eldar lexicon has 1,227 words that can be approximately translated to English as “kinky”, each of which has subtly-different-yet-critically-significant connotations. The rune used here is one of the milder forms, and is best read as “activities outside of my normal range”, rather than “particularly extreme”.

I flipped him over and found a spot on his chest mostly free of tattoos. As full as narcotics as he was, I don’t think he even noticed. I grabbed a knife from my hip and pursed my lips slightly while I went to work.

Of course I had a knife handy when my pants (okay, black fiendleather panty-thing) were currently dangling from a ceiling fan. Why would I disarm myself just to having sex?? Aside from being boring, acting like you’re sure that your partner won’t kill you mid-sex-act implies a lot of emotional commitment, and I’m not ready for that.

Anyway, I dug the tip of my knife through flesh, scarring a message, feeling the trickle of pain into my soul as I did so:

“Srry bout scars- c me outside the Pit? Ask 4 Tamephela, <3!”

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Part 2: Danse Macabre

The gloom of Commorragh settled around my shoulders as I stepped out the door of wherever it was I had wound up after the previous night’s debauchery. Buncha marks around it, what are they?

Ah, I recognize the sigils. Hellion gangsign, the Gutrip Claws, specifically. Not a huge gang, but they had a reputation for seriously fucking up people that started shit at their parties. Good for business when you run a string of drug-dens. 

My head twinged a bit, a reminder of just how enticing those drug-dens could be. Ought to get home. Where the hell is my bike?

A quick glance around showed no sign of it. Damnit. Why weren’t things ever easy? Well, aside from living in a city of complete bastards. No matter- I kept track of my shit. I checked the tracking-screen built into my dagger’s handle- aaaand groaned. Loudly.

Why did I leave the fucking thing on a roof half a click away and a hundred meters up? ...Probably because somebody dared you to climb down the wall, dumbass. Ah well. There’s more than one way to get airborne in Low Commorragh.

I slipped into a low, loping stalk and set out. A bit of work later and I had turned up what I was looking for.

The hellion was gliding down the street confidently, but his eyes darted crazily across those who walked the streets beneath him- a sure sign of too many drugs. Or possibly a gambit meant to lure me in- but no, the faint wrinkles around exposed pectorals suggested the Thirst was getting to him. 

Prey.

Could go after him with my agoniser- but nah, whipping that around would invite someone to steal it. Plus, if I just kill the little shit, his friends- or at least, co-gang-members’ll probably come up behind me in an alley at some point to have a few sharp words. So that’s out- let’s put on a performance instead, make ‘em think twice.

Think. Plan. Wait for the moment- move. 

Dash up the wall. Feel it’s sharp protrusions rip a long gash in my left palm. Spring off in a lightning fast arc. Cast my left arm before me, sending a long arc of blinding blood into his eyes. His mouth opens in a warcry, but my hand is already at my pistol. I feel a surge of terrible glee as I send a splinter right down his open mouth into the back of his throat a moment before I strike the ground, rolling.

He descends upon me, howling, his glaive out, dropping towards my head as he shoots forward.  A smile, as I feel his pain begin with a burning along his throat- no need to move quite yet.

His howl turns into a horrible, hacking cough as the splinter-toxins I selected take hold. Blood first, then his partially-liquified stomach, pour out of his mouth, his glaive falling from his grip as he feels the acids of his own digestive tract start to burn up his vital organs.

Leap forward once more, the ecstatic electricity of his suffering galvanizing my legs, and land in front of him upon his skyboard. As his essence bursts out of him, wrap a leg around him, setting the skyboard spinning, and extend one arm- a bloody mockery of a dance, sending showers of his internal fluids spraying across the street and onto onlookers. 

Slow, as I feel his pain slow and his death begin. Bring the skyboard to a slow, final twirl. Hold him close, bend him forwards, and share a kiss as the last of his lungs spews forth, coating my face in sweet-smelling blood and gore. How beautiful, the light fading from his eyes, the exquisite agony as he feels his torso collapse in upon itself.

End the performance- cast him over my shoulder, a sprinkle of blood from my palm following him, his ejection sending the skyboard into a graceful, tumbling flip. Sketch a bow, bringing myself to a halt.

  A human slave on the end of a chain looks on in wide-eyed horror- the light musk of his terror adds a delightful bit of ambience. The kinsfolk on the street grin wildly, and begin a short round of applause- excluding, I note, a couple with similar tattoos to the fresh corpse. Them, I can feel their surprise, anger- and yes, just a hint of fear. Good. They’ll think twice about trying for revenge. 

I love it when I can send just the message I want!

#writing #violence #ficlet

[misc-headcanons]

Scenario: Rob Lucci/Dracule Mihawk/Law/Reader (NS.FW)

(Request made by @soul-stealer-reaper​)

Lucci stood outside an abandoned townhouse on a small remote island town. The air was still, and the sun had just set. She’d said to come after dark, he thought to himself with a smirk. But it’s proper etiquette to arrive early if you want to ambush a target.

 He had gotten a message from someone who had managed to find a way to call his private DenDen-Mushi. A low, familiar woman’s voice had come through the speaker: “Three wanted pirates are going to meet in three days at the following coordinates. Dracule Mihawk, Trafalgar Law, and _____ _____. You’ll want to come personally. Don’t send a subordinate. And don’t dawdle, either.”

He’d recognized the voice over the DenDen immediately as ____ ____ herself, the Soul Reaper. What exactly is she playing at? His eyes narrowed and he peered at the windows of the building for any signs of movement. She wouldn’t willingly turn herself or another pirate over to the World Government. And why did she want me specifically to come out here? His curiosity piqued and he stealthily entered the building through a side window; she could have set a trap by the front door.

When he slipped inside, he heard a series of loud banging of something heavy against a wall upstairs. He crept up a nearby flight of stairs, scanning for any potential exits and blind spots out of his peripheral vision. The sound of wood squeaking and colliding harshly with drywall was louder here, along with something else that Lucci couldn’t recognize. He stopped outside of a bedroom door, and he eavesdropped on who was inside.

There were at least two people, from what he could hear–a man and a woman, the both of them panting and moaning heavily. The woman’s voice was definitely ____, and it had a strange depth and timbre to it as if she were an animal growling. A piece of furniture (likely a bed, given the sounds the couple was making) was being roughly slammed into a wall. Minuscule bits of the ceiling crumbled and fell onto Lucci’s head and shoulders. He raised an eyebrow; this wasn’t what he was expecting. Not wanting to lose an opportunity to ambush the Soul Reaper, he unsheathed his weapon and quietly opened the door.

He crept inside and saw _____ riding someone on a large bed in the right corner of the room. Her partner’s face and body were mostly obscured, but the tattoos on his hands that were currently gripping ____’s bare hips gave his identity away as the Surgeon of Death. The Soul Reaper appeared more beastly than usual: her already-long fingernails were sharp and clawlike, and a pair of black wings were completely spread out on her ghostly white back. What the hell is going on? Lucci’s confusion only increased when he looked to his left and saw Dracule Mihawk lounging on a plush loveseat, covered in bruises and scratch marks. Thanks to his observation Haki, he’d known the second Lucci had entered the townhouse. Lucci drew his weapon, but Mihawk calmly disarmed him with a few strokes of his sword.

“There’s no need for that,” Mihawk replied smoothly; his voice was more tired than it usually was, as if he’d just finished a marathon and had only had a few minutes of rest. “She didn’t bring you here to kill you or trap you.”

Lucci glanced back at ____, who hadn’t reacted at all to him entering the room or Mihawk disarming him. She seemed lost in her own world as she continued to feverishly writhe against Law. “Glad one of us knows what’s going on then,” he replied with a scowl. “Did she trick you two into coming as well?” Mihawk moved to let Lucci sit with him on the loveseat; after some reluctance, the CP-0 agent sat next to him.

“Not exactly,” Mihawk replied. “A few years ago, the two of us were allied with each other. She let me know about a certain…condition she has. After everything she did to help me in the past, I offered to help her with it. She and Law have a similar deal.”

Lucci scoffed. “What kind of condition?” He looked incredulously at ____, whose moans were reaching a higher pitch as she got closer and closer to her climax. She let out a feral growl and rolled her hips so that Law’s cock roughly hit a particular spot inside her. Law’s breath hitched, and Lucci realized that her hands were around his throat as she rode out her orgasm. His eyes widened slightly as he considered what kind of “condition” that needed this kind of treatment. Mihawk noticed Lucci’s expression and gave him a knowing nod.

“It’s a side effect of her Devil Fruit,” he explained, gesturing to _____. “She’s never explained it fully, but every few years she goes into a sort of heat. Most of her partners before now weren’t able to survive sleeping with her, so she opted for sturdier mates. Given her level of stamina, I suggested that she try acquiring multiple partners. I’m strong, but…” He looked down at the bruises on his body. “Even I have my limits. If it weren’t for the pheromones she emits during this, I would’ve had to stop our arrangement a long time ago.”

Lucci was silent for a moment. This…really wasn’t how he thought this mission would go. “Once she’s finished, does she have to rest for a while? She’s weakened?”

Mihawk raised an eyebrow. “If you’re thinking of capturing her after she’s done with you, don’t bother,” he replied. “You’ll be too tired to move and both of you will only have a hazy memory of what happened. You’ll be lucky if you can walk in a straight line tomorrow.” He winced and leaned back into the seat.

Lucci pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed as he considered his options. I could try to kill her or take her in now, when she’s stronger than she already is. Or…I could go through with this and take the opportunity to try to finish her off when she’s vulnerable. He knew Mihawk had dismissed the idea as impossible, but Lucci had a high level of stamina on the battlefield and in bed. Surely he could do this. Besides, it had been a while since he had been with someone and he could go for a good fuck after making the journey to get here just to lose his chance to eliminate three major threats to the World Government.

The two of them heard Law take a long shuddering gasp of breath; _____ had released him from her grasp just as he’d been about to cum, and her choking seemed to have pushed him over the edge. The Soul Reaper lifted herself off of Law, and finally noticed Lucci’s presence. Mihawk got up to help Law off of the bed, and helped lead him to a chair near the loveseat. Law was covered in fresh bruises like the great swordsman, and he smelled faintly of sweat, blood, and the warm musk from intense lovemaking.

_____ walked towards Lucci and pulled him by the collar for a rough kiss. Lucci’s head instantly felt lighter and warmer; the pheromone Mihawk had mentioned was stirring an intense, almost painful desire as she threw him onto the bed. He leaned into her touch and she used her fingernails to tear his shirt off of his body. She quickly did the same thing to his pants and roughly threw his clothes aside. She bit down on his neck and Lucci let out a moan of pain, followed by one of pleasure as she sank down on his already hard cock. She immediately began riding him at a rough and punishing pace and pulled him up by the neck to kiss him. Her pheromones had left him barely able to think, let alone strategize how he could carry out his plan. What was his plan again? Ah, fuck, she was so tight and wet and…FUCK.

His mind went blank as waves of intense pleasure rocked through his body. When she released him from the kiss, a strand of saliva dribbled down his chin. Less than a minute in and he was already gone.

Mihawk watched the two of them with a bemused smile and lounged on the loveseat as he watched the two of them. This was going to be a long night.

#one piece #one piece scenario #dracule mihawk #mihawk #rob lucci #lucci #trafalgar law #law #ns.fw #request #mine

[ikemenfics]

12 Days of Sengoku Christmas

Word Count: 1265

On the second day of Christmas, my Sengoku gave to me A two sword wielding Masamune and a Sasuke hiding in the ceiling.

You slid the scissors along the ribbon, making it curl perfectly.  “That’s it…” you breathed, looking at the package before you.  It would be close to Christmas, now, and you wanted to do something special with the blue eyed dragon.  You even went to the town and bought some fabric to make him a gift.  A lovely deep blue haori, in which you had painstakingly embroidered a golden dragon.  It was your best work, if you did say so yourself.  You lifted your prize and were off to find him.

He didn’t seem to be in the palace, so you settled for Hideyoshi.  “Masamune?”  Hideyoshi thought about it, answering, “I think he went to train with the soldiers outside of town.”  You knew where he spoke of.  It was the place where you both landed in the lake….And where you kissed for the first time.  You reddened at that, thanking Hideyoshi and walking away.  It looked like you were in need of a horse.

He was there, swords out, a whirlwind of action against his men.  He was outnumbered four to one and yet he still overcame them.  You watched, almost mesmerized as the One Eye-Dragon worked his magic.  He used his sword and his sheath, his arms working with wild grace.  For Masamune, anything was a weapon.

“Ha!  Your guard is open,” Masamune was directing his soldiers against him, increasing their defense against him.  That was your Masa, always in for a good fight.  It did little good, for soon all the opponents were disarmed and shaking out the soreness in their hands.  Masa put away his own sword, securing the sheathed weapon back into his belt.  “Great job,” he told each member their good points, where they could use some work, all while you watched.  He didn’t gloat to his men, he didn’t ridicule.  Your heart swelled as you found yourself just a little more in love with him.

His eye found yours and you blushed at him.  That glimmer told you he knew exactly what you were thinking.  You turned away, mentally yelling at yourself to get ahold of yourself.  You’ve been together this long and you were still a young love kind of person around him.  You glanced at your carefully wrapped package, smiling as you hugged it to you.  

A hand covered your eyes, and a voice sent ripples through you, “Hey, kitten.  I know I’m cool, but you don’t gotta turn away like that.”  You laughed, turning back to him, pushing up on your toes to kiss him.  He returned, tilting his head to seal his lips over yours.  He smelled of musk and sweat, a scent that was all Masamune.  You breathed deep, reveling in just that small piece of him.

The kiss ended all too soon and that beautiful sapphire eye was watching you.  “So, kitten, what brings you out here?”  You held up a box.  He looked at it, not quite getting it yet.  

“In my time,” you started, ensuring no one but him could hear, “we gave gifts to our significant others at Christmas time.  So I have a gift for you…Merry Christmas” His face looked astonished for a moment.  It was always cute when he did that.

But he recovered before you could celebrate for too long, “I’ve heard of this holiday the missionaries celebrate.  Birth of their savior.  That the same thing?”  He looked almost eager to hear about it, so you further explained.

“The holiday started that way, yes.  Brought over by the missionaries,” you thought about the history, thinking how funny that it was history for you but current events for him, “But in my time, Christianity didn’t fully take hold in all the regions,” you decidedly didn’t share the reason for that, “But the tradition of gifts remains.  But for lovers” you ended on a whisper, feeling suddenly a little sheepish.

He looked at the package again, “For lovers, eh?”  You nodded, holding out the package.  His face had turned slightly grumpy, your heart giving a thump of “did-i-do-something-wrong” at it.  “Can’t take it,” he said, your heart cracking just a tiny bit at it.  You didn’t ask why, afraid that the answer might hurt a little bit more than you were ready for

You told him bye and made your way back to Azuchi.  You had to forcibly refrain from sighing, but it didn’t help as another rush of air left your body.  You looked at the present, wrapped in blue cloth that had been left over from the haori, the ribbon you so carefully curled, the bow looking up at you, all ready to be untied.  

“Those sighs, that prettily wrapped box,” a deep voice, amused but somehow also sympathetic reached your ears, “and your very entertaining downward face make me think that our dear friend has given his favorite “kitten” another case of the dragon blues heartache.”  You turned, finding Mitsuhide smiling at you, and an Ieyasu not smiling at you. “Tch,” Ieyasu clicked his tongue, “At this point, the blue dragon’s infected everything.  She leaped into it, after I warned her, so if she’s not used to it, she’s hopeless.”  Your lip twitched at Ieyasu’s complaining, but he was right.  When you agreed to be Masamune’s lover, you signed up for him, so you couldn’t be down that he didn’t quite understand what it meant to reject your gift.

You looked to the two men, taking a breath, “Yeah...thanks Ieyasu.”  He blinked, his eyes widening before he could school his face and look away, muttering a “whatever weird woman” that you learned a long time ago was his way of showing that he was flattered.  You nodded, gathering your gift to your chest and made your way to your room.  You’d explain again to Masamune why the gift was important and try again.  Even if he didn’t return the sentiment, it was the giving that mattered.

Dinner time came and went and you decided to stay and help Masamune clean up.  You washed and put things away, finally finding the moment to attempt your Christmas moment again.  “Masamune,” you started, catching his eye, “I wanted to talk about the gift I tried to give…” You trailed off, feeling nerves well up at the thought of risking rejection again.

“Ah, glad you reminded me,” Masamune reached into his clothes, pulling out a small, somewhat beaten up, box, handing it to you.  You blinked, taking the box in confusion.  “Couldn’t let you give me a lover’s gift without me giving one back to my lover,” he explained, smiling at your expression, “It’d ruin my cool.  I can’t let you cramp my style like that.”

[Foolish blue dragon…] You pouted at him a moment, handing him his gift.  It didn’t last long, as his smiling face forced you to return it back to him.  You wrapped your arms around his neck, standing tiptoe to kiss him.  He returned it, keeping it brief, despite your attempts, eyeing you after, “Go on, open it.”  

You opened the box, finding parchment, a few different colored inks, and brushes.  You looked up, as he responded, “For your fashion thing.”  You felt little pricks of tears in your eyes, holding the gift close.  He opened his, unfolding the haori, “I like this.  You make it?”  You could only nod as he slipped on the blue coat, “Nice.  Think I’ll wear it all the time, now.”  He put a hand on your head, your eyes lifting as he stole one more kiss from you, “Meri Kurisumasu,” he murmured, repeating your earlier words to him.  

#Masamune Date #ikemen sengoku #ikemen sengoku fanfiction #ikemenfics