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shimadalluvia · 13 days

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Elbert/Kate/Alfons

tags: nsfw; threesomes; double penetration word count: 2.8k

“Ahh, nghh…” Kate buried her face in Elbert’s neck, muffling her moans against his fair skin. It was well past dawn, the sun casting light through the blue curtains of his room. Normally, they would’ve already left the castle, but how was she meant to do anything else when she awoke next to him? That fine blond hair that never looked out of place now messed with sleep, his long lashes blinking slowly over well-rested eyes, and the sweet, minimalistic smile that graced his lips as he greeted her.

It was only meant to be a good morning kiss, light and sweet, and yet… Her nightgown was gone, discarded somewhere on the floor, perhaps alongside the shirt she’d nearly torn off him in her haste.

She straddled his lap, knees flush against his hips as she rode his cock, her fingers tangled in his hair as she took pleasure in messing it up further.

“Kate… look at me.”

As if she could ever say no. She tipped her face up, and then her heart was in her throat, her whole body shivering with the vision before her. A flush painted his face, from the bridge of his nose to the tips of his ears, pink and delicate. His lips were kiss-swollen and parted, his breathing heavy as he groaned her name like he owned it. “You’re so beautiful…”

That compliment could still make her laugh. He always said it so sincerely, as if offering a prayer, even though he was the one who caused crowds to gather with his mere presence. How many men and women literally tripped over their own feet for just a glimpse of him, and yet somehow she was the one lucky enough to drown under the weight of his obsessive love?

She crashed her lips against his, drinking in the heat of his tongue and moaning again when his fingers curled over her thighs. He pulled her down onto him as he thrust up, pushing himself further inside, trying to get himself deeper, always deeper, like it was never enough.

She was so close, thighs quivering as she ground against him, muttering soft pleas against his lips to fill her up and make her his, please, just a little more until—

The latch on the door clicked.

Kate snapped her head around to look. Elbert’s dark blue gaze cast in the same direction, both staring at the figure that’d just invited himself inside.

"My, my, you both are so very good at staying quiet, I had no idea I’d be interrupting. But I suppose I'd have to ask Roger to verify for me, if I were so inclined.”

The heat coursing through her body flared. She snatched up the bedsheet, bunching it against her bare chest because there was nothing in reach she could chuck at him. "You could've knocked!"

"I did, I assure you.” Alfons smirked, leaning back against the door after shutting it behind him. “Or so I seem to recall. You’ll have to forgive me if I’m mistaken. You two were very late for breakfast and I just wanted to make sure Elbie wasn't forgetting to feed himself yet again. But it seems that he's making more than a meal out of you, my dear."

"...Al." Elbert’s tone was a strained one. Not of malice or anger, but more of conflict. He shifted beneath her and Kate had to bite back a whimper, clenching her walls around his twitching cock.

“Yes, may I be of some assistance?” Alfons’s voice carried all of his usual amusement—with a touch of something more. “You know that I’m always happy to offer a hand, or anything else for that matter, should either of you need.”

No doubt if it were anyone else, Elbert would've covered her up already. And then gently laid her down while he went to gouge their eyes out. But even as Alfons stared at both of them, Elbert only tightened his grip on her thighs, his neatly trimmed nails digging in to leave marks on her skin. His oceanic eyes were dark, the depth in them unwavering.

She knew that look. That was the look he got when he wanted something.

From the day she'd met them, it was clear their relationship wasn't normal. And then came every interaction between them, every word exchanged, every gaze, every dangerous game and lingering touch… It wasn’t the relationship of a master and servant, nor one of close friends who’d known each other for years. She’d even wondered if, perhaps years ago, Alfons had insisted to Elbert that he wasn’t beautiful, simply to maintain their balance. Because without Alfons by his side, Elbert would have surely already met his ruin.

For a while, she'd thought the emotion it stirred inside her was jealousy. But that wasn't quite right. It wasn't a worry of being replaced, of being betrayed, of being cheated. It was a desire for something she didn’t have, for everything that existed between the two of them that she could never replace and would never want to.

It wasn’t jealousy; it was envy.

But envy was an emotion more easily alleviated.

She released the bedsheet and slid her hands up, cradling Elbert’s face to draw his attention back to her. She understood him better now, his wants, his needs, his curse and the darkness that came with it. Not perfectly, and certainly not as well as Alfons, but she was learning… through them both. "Can you be honest with me?"

"Always."

That response, a far cry from her first few weeks at the castle, made her heart flip.

Alfons was a walking temptation, a dangerous idea wrapped in an illusion. There was almost no doubt in her mind that he’d tempted Elbert before, even if she’d yet to gather the courage to ask exactly how far or how often. And then when it came to her, every time Alfons whispered in her ear or swept his fingertips across the nape of her neck, the heat that burned in her belly screamed to be sated. If it weren’t for Elbert, she would’ve already given in. But given that Alfons’s love of Elbert rivaled her own, he would never actually try to steal her away…

Which made for a simple solution.

"You don't want Al to leave, do you?"

“No…” Elbert spoke softly, as if admitting something he felt he shouldn’t. "...I'm greedy."

"I know."

"You're beautiful, Kate. The most beautiful thing in the world. But..."

She smiled, nodding. "So is he."

"Yes. And sometimes I think, if I had you both… maybe I could finally be satisfied."

That wasn’t true. He would never be satisfied, never fulfill the gaping wound left by his curse. But Alfons had never stopped him from trying and, if she wanted him to be happy, neither would she. “I don’t mind.”

From across the room, Alfons cleared his throat. “Excuse me, but am I not invited to this round of negotiations? Is anyone planning to ask me how I feel?”

Elbert frowned, his brows furrowing cutely, but Kate cast Alfons a smile over her shoulder, as sweet as she could manage. “You can always leave.”

“And what fun would that be?”

Alfons crossed the room with the practiced stride of a man who’d done so countless times, and yet when he reached the edge of the bed, he hesitated.

There was a line there, invisible yet blaring, that would shatter once crossed. Just like dropping a mirror.

But Elbert was never good at waiting for something he wanted. His fingers hooked into the hem of Alfons’s jacket sleeve, the pad of his thumb brushing against a polished cufflink. “Al…”

“Now, Elbie, we both know you’re not very good at sharing. So what on earth makes you think you can share between two?”

“Because I… I don’t mind sharing with you.”

The triumphant smirk painting Alfons’s handsome face faded for a brief moment, transforming into a soft fondness like that of a slow-blinking kitten, and then he joined them on the bed—a gloved hand taking hold of Kate’s chin and turning her face toward his.

She’d kissed him before, but not like this, not like—god. His mouth was different from Elbert’s, lips thinner and firmer, but then he sucked on her tongue as his fingers rolled over her breast and she melted all the same.

Between the three of them, they managed to strip Alfons off his jacket and shirt, his belt buckle clinking against the side of the bed as it fell. Kate hesitated only on his gloves, but then he pressed his mouth to her ear to purr, “Don’t worry, this is already all the fun we can handle,” and stripped those off too.

Elbert’s hands returned to her thighs, spreading her legs wider as he rocked up, sending spasms through her. A moment later and Alfons’s chest pressed against her back, one of his arms snaking around her waist while his other hand slipped down to find the wetness between her legs, fingertips circling her clit.

Kate quieted a whimper, throwing her head back against his shoulder. A memory flashed through her mind, of a room and a bed back at the palace, where Alfons had first teased this ill-advised proposal only for her to hastily dismiss it in a fluster. Saying no then had been the right thing to do, mid-mission with her still wearing the queen’s borrowed clothing, but now…?

His fingers slipped lower, reaching where Elbert’s cock sheathed inside her and stroking against them both. Elbert shuddered under her, his long lashes fluttering as the pretty pink blush coloring his fair skin turned a shade darker. “Kate, I want… kiss me.”

Her eyes flickered momentarily back to Alfons before she leaned her body forward, her chest flush with Elbert’s as she settled her hands on his shoulders and kissed him. It was sweet and unrushed, a maddening contrast to the way he then snapped his hips to plunge deep inside her. She moaned on his tongue and rocked back, startling slightly when she felt a sensation like hard velvet brushing against her lower back.

Elbert’s hands slid from her thighs to her rear, squeezing her buttocks before spreading them. “Al, come. Join me… Please, she’s greedy here too…” She gasped when he slipped two fingers inside alongside himself, stretching her further.

“Can the dear little robin handle that much? Normally, you treat her like she’s so fragile.”

The half-sweet, half-mocking of Alfons’s unfairly low voice had her wanting to beg him and slap him at the same time. But then that wicked mouth touched the center of her spine, raining kisses up each vertebrae until he bit a mark into the nape of her neck and pushed the head of his cock inside her while having the gall to mutter, “Pardon my intrusion.”

It was slow, thankfully, or else she might just break between them. Elbert’s nails dug crescents into her skin, keeping her grounded as Alfons sank himself deeper, bit by bit. She moaned, trembling, her eyes shut as ripples of pleasure raced through her. So full, so much fuller than when Elbert fucked her roughly and pushed his fingers inside her alongside his cock, as if he could satisfy his own ravenous desire through her.

Then, Alfons wrapped his arms around her waist, touching a kiss to the curve of her neck as a soft groan escaped him. “No wonder he’s absolutely obsessed with you.”

She wasn’t any better. If she were, maybe she would’ve had enough sense to object to this, but instead she was dripping wet and unable to stop the moans from spilling out when they both moved inside her. Alfons set the pace for them all and she could feel him smiling each time he kissed her neck and the backs of her shoulders, his slick-soaked fingers rubbing at her clit as if everything else wasn’t already more than enough.

She clung to Elbert, her breaths heavy against his skin, all of her words senseless but pleading. And Elbert, her darling, her beloved—normally so quiet—was panting and groaning along with her. Each push of Alfons’s cock sent her alight and clearly did the same for Elbert, with the way that he arched and tried to seek out more of them both. Greed had never looked more beautiful.

“Al…”

Elbert reached a hand out for Alfons and Kate saw him take it, pressing his lips to Elbert’s fingertips and then his palm, like a proper servant in reverence of his master. It was so foreign, so out-of-place, and yet so fitting. Like Alfons had finally found something he’d wanted. Kate bit the insides of her cheeks, forcing herself to hold back a laugh. That was certainly something she’d never be able to forget, but she could humor him with that assertion later.

Instead, she pressed her lips first to Elbert’s, then twisted to kiss Alfons. And when she pulled back, barely breathing, she saw a deep heat swimming in Elbert’s gaze.

Oh…

Sometimes, the ferocity with which he wanted things was frightening. Like the first time she’d seen him stride across a room, not caring for the agony his footsteps left in his determined wake, simply to acquire something he’d later carelessly discard. This was… different. This was more. This was how he’d looked at her when he’d gripped her hands and asked how it was he could make her his.

But this time, his gaze wasn’t trained on her.

“Al, I want…” He didn’t need to say anymore than that.

Kate shifted as Alfons leaned in over her shoulder, his lips quirked at the corners.

“Oh? Then show me.”

Alfons drew nearer to his charge, hovering but a breath away. And Elbert, as he always did, claimed what he wanted. He caught Alfons’s mouth with his own, the kiss demanding, hungry—and gorgeous. She saw the slip of pink tongues and the pull of teeth, and shuddered, biting down onto her lower lip as she came, clenching around both their cocks.

“My, my, is that what you’re into?”

“Don’t,” she gasped, the warning in her tone less effective as her entire body trembled with the pleasure ripping through her, her skin burning red.

“Why not, if we all enjoy it?” Alfons’s teeth scraped against her ear, his exhales hot and not nearly as even as he likely wanted them to seem. “Will you kiss our dear Elbie for me? Please?”

She did, crying out against his mouth when Alfons thrust with purpose into her over-stimulated body. Elbert took hold of her waist, guiding her movements back on them both, and her moans built, needy and unrestrained, no longer trying nor caring to keep them quiet. The second wave washed over her in minutes and she slumped, no longer sure which name to call out. She heard Alfons swear, pulling out to paint her back while Elbert came in thick spurts across her stomach.

What a blissful mess…

Her nerves buzzed as she sought a kiss from Elbert’s lips, bubbling when he smiled into it and pulled her closer, wrapping her in his embrace.

Alfons, however, slipped off the bed away from them. They both watched him vanish into the adjoining bathroom, returning only moments later with a soft, damp, warm cloth to clean their skin of the mess left behind. Then, barely a minute later, he was redressed and presenting the form of a proper attendant, with not a raven-colored lock out of place.

Kate blinked at him, not out of surprise, but curiosity. “I don’t think either of us would mind if you stayed.” It would take some time and some struggle figuring out, surely, but everything about life in the castle came with complications. And they hadn’t given up yet.

“Surely, Earl Greetia and his dear robin will be famished. And the food prepared earlier will be cold. I trust the two of you can put yourselves together without getting too off track? Or should I send up one of the maids to ensure no further shenanigans?”

Elbert said nothing, his arms winding tighter around Kate’s waist, like he was making up for the loss of one companion by clinging to the other. He and Alfons were day and night, light and dark, but somehow she could figure out how to be the horizon to bridge them together.

She laced the fingers of her hands through Elbert’s and offered a smile to the man standing over them both. “Breakfast sounds wonderful. And you’ll join us?”

“Of course. For as long as you’d have me, my dears.”

#ikemen villains #ikevil #ikevil elbert #ikevil alfons #ikevil smut #alfons sylvatica #elbert greetia #op writing

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shimadalluvia · 13 days

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Happy Birthday, Rio! This isn't my best effort and you deserved better from me, but I hope you'll take it anyway. 🥺

(I shamelessly lifted the idea for this from a kdrama I've been watching.)

Pairing: Rio x Emma Rating: G Additional notes: mentions of alcohol (wine)

She’s always beautiful, but there’s something different about her tonight.

Rio can’t exactly put his finger on what it is… or maybe it’s just that there are so many things that he can’t focus on just one. Maybe it’s the color in her cheeks, blush-rose tinted and prettier than any bloom he could find in the palace garden. Or perhaps it’s the way she beams at him - the ever-present telltale wrinkle of worry between her eyes is nowhere to be found, and her smile is more carefree than he’s ever seen it.

“I think I’m starting to feel the effects of the wine,” Emma says quietly. Her eyes never leave his, allowing him to see just how bright and clear they are.

“Is that so?” He flashes her a brilliant smile of his own. “Does this mean you’re starting to get drunk?”

There’s only a split second of hesitation before she nods. Her eyes shift away from him, and even though he’s already seen the lie, he says nothing to acknowledge it. “I’m sure I won’t remember any of this in the morning.”

“That’s good,” Rio nods, sliding her glass of water closer to her.

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

A minute or two of silence passes between the two of them. It’s more than enough time for Rio to think of everything that’s happened in recent months, and to wonder if Emma is doing the same.

“Why is that?” She finally asks, her eyes on him again. She reaches a hand out, and he thinks she means to pick up her glass of water. Her fingers curl around her wine glass instead, and she lifts it to her lips to take another sip.

“Because there’s something I want to say.” He tells her this knowing that they’re both still perfectly sober. “That is, if you want to hear it.”

Emma’s cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink. “I’m listening.” She has never seen Rio this way before. Though he isn’t exactly somber, his usual lighthearted cheerfulness is missing. His mood is serious, heavier.

She likes him this way. She wonders if she should tell him so. “I want to hear it, whatever it is,” she replies truthfully.

This makes him smile. It is a soft thing, tender and full of love.

She likes that, too.

“I don’t ever want to leave your side,” he tells her.

“Oh Rio,” she laughs quietly. “You always say that.”

“I want,” Rio continues, “to see you with gray in your hair and wrinkles on your face. I bet you'll still be as pretty then as you are now.”

The little wings that first started to sprout on her heart that hot summer day three years ago unfold themselves. “That’s too bad,” she says.

His eyebrows go up. “Is it?”

“It is,” she nods. Her cheeks are burning, but she doesn’t think it’s from embarrassment or bashfulness. “I plan to get old very slowly. If you want to see me with gray hair and wrinkles, you’ll have to stay by my side for a very long time.” She dares to look at him. “Do you think you would be up for that?”

She expects him to laugh, to wave his hand and talk about how silly and cute his Emma is the way he always does. To her surprise, his eyes are damp and misty. He’s as sober as I am, she thinks. It can’t be the wine, can it?

“Emma, if you’ll have me, I’ll stay by your side until the day I die.”

Those little wings attached to her heart are moving, moving, until her heart is soaring so high she thinks it might leave her chest. “I lied about something,” she admits, lowering her eyes to look at her hands. They are trembling.

Rio covers her hands with his, and the trembling stops. “What did you lie about?”

“I’m not drunk. I’m fairly certain I’ll remember this entire conversation in the morning.” She looks down at their hands, joined now so that their fingers are intertwined. “And what’s more,” she goes on, looking back up at him, “is that I’m going to hold you to that. You promised that you’d stay by my side until the day you die.”

“I can’t think of anything I want more.”

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri rio #rio ortiz #tinywoodenrobot fics

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shimadalluvia · 14 days

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Ikesen Boys React to a Tattooed MC pt 2

Thank you again to @otomedad for this idea!

Kenshin, Shingen, and Yoshimoto. Approx. 2400 words. Part 1 here!

Kenshin

Kenshin froze mid-step, his mismatched eyes going wide. You froze too, a shout of surprise caught behind your lips. Your kimono hung open, half undressed as you prepared for a bath.

The tub of steaming water sat behind a decorative screen, and you were wishing you were behind it too. “Umm. Hi?” You tug the fabric closed, your face hot.

He swallows, and turns his head to look down the empty corridor leading to your ‘room’. “You were not expecting me. I will go.”

“No, wait!” Your voice startles you as much as him. Kenshin turns his head to glance your direction expectantly. You pause, unsure what to say. “I was hoping you would come today.”

If anything, this seems to surprise him even more than seeing you unclothed.

“If you like, you can wait with me for the bathwater to cool down. It’s too hot to soak in right now.” You sit down on the small stool beside the bars of your well-appointed cell.

Kenshin says nothing for a long moment, then he nods. There is something unsettled about him as he pulls up a stool to sit across from you. “Is there anything you need?”

You shrug, glancing around at the stone walls and wooden bars. “Out? Other than that, no.”

He looks down, his lips twisting in a faint grimace. The frown turns to puzzlement. “What is that?”

You realize he’s noticed the cherry blossom petal on the top of your bare foot. “Oh. It’s part of my tattoo.” You carefully shift your kimono open a little bit to show the rest of your leg. Cherry blossoms and pink petals dance across your skin, as if floating on a forever breeze in some place where it is always spring.

Kenshin regards the ink with more curiosity than you expected. His hand drifts toward the bars that separate you. “Beautiful,” he breathes.

Your skin prickles and warms with expectation of his touch. The tip of his cool, calloused finger brushes your calf, setting your heart off at a gallop. You aren’t sure if the butterflies in your belly are from the compliment or the feel of his hand on your leg.

“It does not come off,” he states, rather than asks.

“Right. It’s ink under my skin so . . . I guess I’m stuck with it for life.” You try for a carefree smile, but miss the mark as his eyes flick up to meet yours.

Kenshin considers this for a moment, then nods. “It is like a scar, then.” His eyes narrow. “Why was this done to you?”

You do smile then, at the protective note in his voice. “I did it to me. Or, at least, I picked the design and the spot. I wanted something to remind me that life is short. To enjoy the beauty in it, as long as it lasts. Because, you know. It won’t last long.”

His fingers trace the edges of the petals and blossoms, moving up past your knee to the top of the flowers on your thigh. “The inevitability of loss,” he says, more to himself than to you. There is something warm in his eyes, something fragile.

“No,” you shake your head. “The celebration of beauty, however fleeting. Take joy where you can, right?”

“Take joy . . .” His gaze falls back to your leg, and he snatches his hand away as if suddenly scalded by your skin. Shutters of ice close him off from you again as he stands.

You stand as well, reaching for him through the cell bars. Your fingers brush his shoulder before he steps back.

“If there is nothing you need, I will go.”

“I do need something.” Your voice shakes a little as your hand drops to your side. “I wish you’d visit me more often. Stay for a little longer when you do. I like being around you.”

Kenshin does not reply. He studies you for a moment, before turning away. His steps echo down the empty corridor, making you feel somehow even more alone than before he came.

Shingen

Shingen’s hand trailed along the smooth silk of your kimono, the warmth of his touch soaking through to your back. He wasn’t technically supposed to be touching you, just watching the stars. But he had a hard time keeping his hands to himself, and you weren’t going to complain. Not tonight, anyway.

“Are you sore, angel,” he asked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“No,” you shot back, then admitted, “a little.” The day’s hike through mountainous forest hadn’t been easy, especially carrying a pack. You regretted insisting on carrying it, but pride wouldn’t let you take it easy.

Shingen’s lips curled up in a subtle smile. “I see.” His hand stilled on your back. “You know what the best thing for sore muscles is?”

You turn your head to regard him, sensing a trap. “A hot bath?”

“Those are pretty good. But love is what makes the angel sing.” He grins at you, playful and teasing.

“Seriously, Shingen?” You huff and pull away from his touch.

He sighs. “Can’t blame a guy for trying. It’s not every day an actual goddess graces me with her presence.”

You glare at him, annoyed and flattered and annoyed with yourself for being flattered. “Whatever. I’m going inside.”

“Don’t leave, angel.” There’s a slight pleading tone to his voice. “As an apology, let me give you a shoulder rub. It will make us both feel better. I promise.” The sensual tilt of his lips and the appeal in his gaze give you pause. A massage would feel nice, but . . .

“No. I don’t trust you.” The words leave your mouth in a rushed exhalation, leaving so much unsaid. It wasn’t Shingen you didn’t trust, it was yourself.

He looked down, his eyes dark and unreadable in the dim starlight. “I promise, I’m not trying to make you mine.” Shingen held his hands out as if in surrender. “Let me help?”

The silence between you expands, an almost physical thing pressing against your skin and making it hard to breathe. You give a curt nod, giving in to what you know you want, even if you can’t admit it.

Shingen settles behind you. His hands slide down your shoulders, gently tugging your kimono down to bare them. His breath catches and he goes still.

For a moment, you are confused, and then you realize he must have seen it. Your tattoo. Maple leaves drifting along your spine, from just below your neck to your hip. A riot of warm colors and fine lines etching your skin. You still remember the pain of having it done. But it was worth it. “Something wrong?” You try for a teasing tone, but your voice is too breathy to make that mark.

“Your back -” He pulls your kimono lower still, revealing more of the falling leaves. His calloused hand presses against the ink as if to wipe it away. “My angel is a work of art.”

A shiver runs through your skin at the feel of his hand on you. Your galloping heart speeds even more, racing uncontrollably as heat flushes your face. “You’re not supposed to be flirting,” you manage.

Shingen’s laugh sends a puff of warm breath across your neck. “That wasn’t flirting. I’m only stating the obvious.” His thumbs press into your tense, tired flesh, a gentle pressure to ease sore muscles. “Is the art something from your village? I have never seen anything like it painted into skin.”

You struggle for a moment to find words, distracted by his closeness and the intimacy of his touch. He clearly knows how to give a massage, and the sensation is short circuiting your brain. “Umm. It . . . mmmm . . . I got it to remind myself.”

“Of?” His lips are distressingly close to the leaf at the top of your spine, almost brushing the inked skin.

“Th-that I am carried. Forward. Even when life is tough. Like a leaf in the wind. Do what I can and leave what I can’t to fate. Or god. Or . . . chaos, I guess. Trust that life is - is pushing me to where I need to be.” You stutter through an explanation, leaving out all the context and emotion surrounding the decision on this image in this spot in those colors.

Shingen is quiet for a while, his skilled hands working out the knots in your shoulders and upper back. “My angel is a philosopher. Something holding us up in our worst moments.” He sounds more thoughtful than you expected when he finally speaks. Rather than blowing off the meaning of the design, he seems interested.

“I needed something to hang on to,” you say softly, self-consciously. His praise feels undeserved, but makes your heart feel full, your chest tight.

“We all do, sometimes.” You feel the press of a gentle kiss to the back of your neck.

Quiet descends between you again, a soft silence of connection and comfort.

Yoshimoto

You sit completely still, afraid to even breathe deeply. Yoshimoto’s fingers comb gently through your hair, coaxing it into position. He hums a tune you almost recognize as he works, styling you for the artists that will arrive soon.

“Are you sure this is a good idea? I bet there are a lot of more qualified models in Kasugayama,” you say through stiff lips. This whole idea has you on edge. Art is wonderful, and you love making it - but being in it? Not so much.

Yoshimoto adjusts your necklace. “You are perfect. There is none more qualified.” He steps back, inspecting his work.

“I am so very not perfect,” you argue, thinking of all the parts of yourself you’d change if you could. “Surely Okuni would be better -”

“No. I want them to paint you.” The way he says it sends a thrill through you, as if he would value more your image than any other. Which can’t be true. Yoshimoto is just an appreciator of art. And you, as his friend and student, happened to be available for this painting session with some up and coming artists.

You take a shallow breath. The next part will be the hardest, even knowing it is coming. “Fine. I guess.” The blanket in your lap seems smaller by the moment and you feel heat rising in your cheeks as you take it in one hand.

Yoshimoto smiles and moves close again, his fingers hover at the edge of the decorative kimono draped over your shoulders. “I am honored by your trust in me.”

“Wait!” You take a deeper breath, a panicky feeling welling up in your chest. “I can’t model. I - I have a tattoo!” You feel a sudden certainty that, just like your parents, Yoshimoto will hate the ink on your skin, and the artists will refuse to paint you, and - and -

He settles a hand on your cheek, turning your head toward him. “Thank you for telling me. May I see it?” His eyes are wide and clear, empty of judgment or censure.

You study his face a moment longer, feeling self conscious. “Ok.”

He pulls the fabric down as you lift the blanket to your chest. Almost the pose you were meant to take for the artists.

Despite the white silk now covering your breasts, you feel exposed. Your entire back on display, bare shouldered and covered with almost nothing from the back of your neck to the top of your butt cheeks. Vulnerable. On display. You wait for Yoshimoto to say something, but he is silent.

“Well?” Your voice is sharp and anxious, and you resist the urge to tug the fabric up and hide behind it.

Yoshimoto takes a breath. His hands brush your sides, stopping at the edges of your tattoo. Chrysanthemums spread from the center of your back to your hips, delicate and colorful. He kneels to look at them more closely, close enough that his hair tickles against your skin.

You love the way they look, bright and playful. Accentuating the natural curves of your low back and hip. But you can’t tell what his reaction is. His quiet only wrenches your nerves tighter. “If you don’t say something, I think I’m going to cry.”

His soft touch brushes the inked flowers, as if painting the petals with his fingertips. “I . . . I did not expect . . .”

“It’s fine.” You reach for the kimono, ready to cover up and escape with a little dignity.

Yoshimoto’s hand catches yours. “Please. Let me look a little longer. It is beautiful.” His gaze meets yours, fey eyes almost aglow. “You are beautiful.”

Your breath catches, there is a tightness in your chest. A trembling, uncertain emotion that you cannot name. “Alright.”

His smile is tender and affectionate as his eyes drift back to your tattoo. “These colors are amazing. I have never seen such bright irezumi. And the way it follows the shape of your body -” His caress sends a pleasant shock up your back and sets your pulse pounding. “This was done by a master artist. Only fitting for such a canvas.”

“They were really good,” you nod, recalling the waitlist and the cost. “They designed it for me after I told them what I wanted. Something with meaning, memories and promises. I wanted to look at it the rest of my life and know it holds what is close to my heart.”

You gesture toward the flowers he is touching. “Red for the promise of love, yellow for what I’ve lost, white for loyalty. And all of it together for beauty, inside and out.” The words pour out as if from a broken dam. You’ve never told anyone all of this, never had the opportunity or the trust. But you want Yoshimoto to know you. To understand you.

“Did you know it is also a symbol of royalty?” His voice is soft, barely audible.

“I do. Not that I am. Royal. I mean, Nobunaga made me a princess but I’m just a normal person. Nothing special.” You shrug. “I just thought it was a really pretty flower.”

Yoshimoto’s arms wrap around you, and his cheek rests against your back. You feel the flutter of his eyelids as he closes them. “You are special. Talented and beautiful and kind. I can think of no other more deserving of such a mark.”

Bittersweet pleasure floods you. There is nothing you can say to that, and so you let yourself enjoy his embrace. The feel of him pressed close. If only it could last. If only you could speak the words that lie heavy in your heart. If, if, if.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikesen kenshin #ikesen shingen #ikesen yoshimoto #op writing

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