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sashi-ya · 2 years

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Hello, Sashi! Can I have a spot for Prince! Ichiji x F! Reader with the prompt secret mission: assassinate the prince? NSFW please. Any kink you consider will work! Thanks!

Hi!! of course!! I hope you enjoy it! It's a little dark but I think Ichiji is one of the best characters for writing dark fics! Thanks for requesting! 💖~

👑 Oh, Royal Lust Event ~ Royals AU event.

𝖓𝖘𝖋𝖜 ~ 𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊! 𝖁𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖒𝖔𝖐𝖊 𝕴𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖏𝖎 𝖝 𝕾𝖕𝖞! 𝕱! 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 ~ 𝕴𝖓 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝕺𝖜𝖓 𝕿𝖗𝖆𝖕

tw: DARK EXPLICIT CONTENT!. Mentions of killing and death. Poison using. Saddistic tendencies and practices. oral sex. cream pie. slaps. once again DARK content.

wc: 3.5k

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The strongest soldier.

Sadist, an assassin. Severe, and quick.

Sliced throats, white foam forming on their mouths, chose the way. Torture or a quick fix? Anyway, they all end up dead.

Your best mission, killing a Prince; Vinsmoke Ichiji. The next King of the enemy’s kingdom. For the sake of your country, for the sake of your homeland.

There he is, drinking and enjoying himself. Girls around he doesn’t even look, courtesans that run their hands all over his chest, down , down his chest. Some bite his neck, some sit over his lap.

Their cheeks are red, alcohol fills the veins of the young women playing with the prince. Cheeks red like his hair, falling back, almost even wet from the clouds of smoke of that bar.

Your heels hit against the floor, and the loud music rumbles on your chest. The long boots made out of shiny black leather squeeze your thighs, and the short skirt of your dress does too. Nothing more exciting than a beautiful woman for Prince Ichiji.

Your hips swing from side to side, and your elbows end up buried in whichever man’s ribs that dares to touch you.

You have chosen cyanide. Sweet, sweet poison that would end up on his fleshy lips sending him to a painful death. The little bottle filled with some drops hangs from your neck as a deathly piece of jewellery.

He laughs and drinks and pushes many women away. Who knows who the men that are surrounding him are, but they are about to pass out; none of them have the same powerful capacity to drink as he does.

A few steps away, he is a few steps away from you. But you aren’t simply touching him, not like the rest of the girls. You need to call his attention…

You pass straight next to him, not even touching him, just trusting in the addictive dance of your hips. The counter of the bar is some meters away, and as you walk towards there you can sense his blue eyes fixed on the low cut of your backless dress.

Resting your arms over the wet table, your spine curves making your ass lifted up. Feline position, legs crossed, the leathery material of your boots grazing with each other.

“A Bloody Mary, please” you request to the barman, a subtle smirk with ruby red lips assures you any drink you want instantly and absolutely free. Is not that the bartender wasn’t someone you knew, in fact, he was one of your colleagues. The prince shouldn’t have come to your land, so nonchalantly visiting your bars, and touching your women.

And just as you expected, the despot royal who thinks everything is his, placed his gloved hands over the counter next to you. You lick your teeth, like a blood thirsty beast waiting to devour a prey that has just fallen in your trap.

“I will have the same as the lady right here” he commands to the barman, owning a side look under your long fluttering lashes. A subtle smirk, seductive and irresistible draws in both of your mouths, and damn the prince is really handsome after all.

You get served at the same time. Reaching for the slice of citric on the cup, you take it to your lips. You lick the juicy drops over them, acting completely unaware of the persistent stare of Ichiji Vinsmoke over your profile.

Ichiji feels uncomfortable, why is that bitch not looking at him? Why are you not pouncing onto him? Are you perhaps a challenge? There is nothing Ichiji is denied, and you, of course, won’t be the exception. He wants you, and he wants you so bad.

He takes his hands to his chin, desperation crippling inside him, heat crawling from his sex to his mind. How much will he have to wait until you look at him, directly.

The dim red lights of the bar shine in between smoke clouds creating images like lasers, or even sparks. And you don’t have to look at him to know your legs are now reflecting on his dark cherry glasses.

When your drink is finished, and you are sure his too as he had drunk it in just one go you hear his rather melodic voice ask for another drink. “Would you prefer something fruity, or perhaps something stronger this time?” he asks, implying you might be a little weak. If he only knew…

“I will take whatever you take” you tell him, finally speaking directly towards him. “Sure? Ladies aren’t that used to have stronger drinks” he spits, mockingly and probably based on misogynistic beliefs.

You smile, the bunny has fallen into the trap. “Well, if I can take it, could I rely on you to take me home?” you come further and whisper closer to his ear. His exquisite cologne reaches your nostrils, and you have to fight the urge to touch him. A false step could cost you the accomplishment of such important mission.

Ichiji laughs, and the classic smirk that he holds with pride garnishes his countenance. “Of course, I could take you to my hotel room if you don’t mind. I’m sure you must know I’m the prince of the Germa Kingdom”.

Of course, I know you are Vinsmoke Ichiji… bastard

“It’s a deal… my Prince” you say, slowly, sexily, deathly pronouncing the last words with tempting tone. “Heh…” Ichiji laughs, asking the bartender his best bottle of Sake from Wano. A strong choice, yet nothing your well-trained body could manage… Oh, but for the sake of the mission, you will have to act like a poor drunken damsel in distress.

You pour the first cup, of course, a Prince shouldn’t be serving but being served. The total submission hints you give him excites him more and more. You can even notice the effect your crossed legs have on his by the bulge growing on his white pants.

After the second cup, you are growing impatient… maybe that sake is stronger than you thought, or maybe it’s just the way his prominent collar bones flash as he unbuttons some buttons of the black frilled shirt he is wearing.

You fix your eyes into the little drops of sweat running through his neck. “Sake surely makes me hot” he says, while you notice a little blush over his cheeks. Is the prince drunk already? Apparently executing the deathly plan will be even easier then.

You fan your face with your hand, grazing the little container with poison hanging from your neck. Your long red nails barely scratch the prominence of your visible, revealing cleavage. You tilt your head, and as the snake that lured Adam and Eve to eat the apple from the tree, you bite your lip.

“It is indeed really hot in here, my prince”. “Then let’s go to somewhere else, shall we?” he says, and the next stage of your plan has just started.

Both walk to the exit of the bar, passed out drunken women rest over two men of green and blue hair. Quickly you recognize his two younger siblings, future princes you will have to kill eventually, too.

Outside, a carriage pulled by huge cats with the number 66 engraved in their headbands, waits for you.

Ichiji grabs your hand, and helps you sit in it. Acting like a true gentleman, well knowing the true nature of his intentions. “Thank you, my Prince” you mumble sitting and waiting for him to sit next to you. He nods, and you can already feel the intimidating aura of a man that wants to use you as a semen deposit for the rest of the night.

His gloved hand rests over your knee, and many are the times you have to remind yourself you are on a mission and that man by your side is nothing but your enemy… but the prince is handsome, isn’t he?

The bumpy roads on your city make your breasts jump attracting Ichiji’s eyes, and as he is delighted by their hypnotizing motions, he comes closer to your ear. “I might want to fuck you all night long, darling” he whispers, grazing your lobe with his kissable lips.

You would lie if you said the gasp that went off your mouth was an acting, and you surely felt a shiver run through your spine. Up and down, finally ending on your core.

“Will you fuck me, my prince?” you murmur, following Ichiji’s words.

“More than that, woman” he says, passing his index finger from the valley that forms in between your collarbones down and over the little bottle.

Soon, you arrive to his hotel. The luxurious Adlon Hotel, in the western part of your city, next to the antique monument representing the gates of it. Security guards that look like clones surround the place and scans you up and down, you are nothing but a whore… or that’s what they have to think. You do not represent any danger to the future king, in fact, the only person in danger here it’s you.

You get down with his help, his hand travelling further from your waist to the small of your back. “Good evening, my Prince” two of the clones salute him and take a look at the revealing outfit you are wearing. You can feel their eyes on you and how his dicks get hard as you walk pass them, but you are only here to make just a man hard… hard, stiff, and cold… make this man a corpse.

Fixing your sight on the luxurious tiles of the Adlon Hotel as you walk, make you a little lightheaded, or is it perhaps Ichiji’s hand around your waist? Either way, you just walk, hiding your face with some of your hair locks. You don’t want to risk any of his intelligence system to notice who you really are.

“You have come here to kill him, (Name). You are a spy, you are a killer” you remind yourself on and on and on, because your body begs to let this man at least fuck you once before you give him the deadly substance.

He gives you a light spank in your ass when the doors of the elevator open, and so you answer by simply giggling and walking inside it. Ichiji takes off his gloves and pulses the number six.

A ding announces the lift has begun to move. And as soon as it does, his hand squeezes your neck. His nose pressed against yours, his free hand already under the skirt of your dress. He smirks, pushing you hard against the mirror wall of the elevator, making you sigh with a mix of hate and ardour desire for him.

“I would most definitely fuck you right here, little whore. But my security insists is better to do this type of things on the royal suite” he says, burying one of his fingers on your sex. “Wet already? Good…”

Pondering extending the mission well passed a good fucking session, the doors of the elevator opens, and the opulence of the Royal Suite blinds your eyes.

Inside you go, and Ichiji doesn’t wait a single second to push you against the huge bed in the middle of the room. You land, sitting on the red velvety covers of such comfortable mattress.

“Heh…” he laughs, taking his glasses off. Revealing beautiful sky-blue eyes, irresistible sight that burns holes into your ablaze body.

Next, his shirt. Black cloth that fall into the ground and let’s you discover the ink on his right arm with the number 1. Of course, of course you are the number one… arrogant bastard.

Arrogant, hot, sexy bastard.

Next his pants, the belt with a skull and two rays hit the white marble of the floor, chiming louder. White trousers fall into the ground and then his white boxers too. It’s huge, hard, dripping. So tempting, deliciously looking… you want his dick inside your mouth, inside you, filling you up, deep, oh so deep…

But you have to kill him, focus.

Ichiji runs his fingers through his blood-coloured hair and licks his lips. You are his prey now… but are you really?

He walks towards you; his knee spreads your legs making your dress slide up your hips. The prince runs his index and thumb finger under your chin, pulling your head up to look him in the eyes.

“You are an interesting woman… You look as if you were hiding secrets… are you?” he says, smirking with devilish eyes. “Secrets?” you ask, suspecting his tone has changed from a horny man to a serious one. You are not really afraid, but what if the rumours of him being the most intelligent of the princes is true?

He doesn’t speak and instead he pushes back in a violent motion. Your back lands on the bed and Ichiji tops you. His knees end up trapping your wrists against the mattress and the plan is not going as expected. You were supposed to tie him up to the bed to make him drink the poison…

His hard shaft is a few centimetres from your mouth and precum drops drizzle your lips as his dick twitches over them. His sight show how he is not only horny, but he is defiant towards you.

Shit… I should keep the acting up… I will have time eventually to kill him

You smile and stick your tongue out, tasting the salty product of his tip you think it will be enough to trick him. “Heh… what a whore…” he murmurs, enjoying your now lips surrounding his dick.

You endeavour to play your role fighting against your own body acting on its own. He pushes his dick inside you, hitting your throat, making you gag and cry. His hips move, in and out and you began to sense the lack of blood flow on your arms as his knees press them hard.

Ichiji grunts, pulling from your hair to move your head violently. He sometimes pushes himself even deeper into your throat as he does with your head. Face and lips buried on his pelvis preventing you from breathing in a lustful torture of using you as a mere wet hole for his dick.

You sometimes open your eyes; they burn from the tears melting your makeup. Your sight begs for air, you need a second to rest.

Ichiji eventually grants you the privilege of oxygen flowing into your lungs. You cough, and pant. It’s humiliating and hot, and your mission seems to fade away, but as long as he doesn’t suspect anything, everything will be alri-

“Keep going, keep sucking my dick like the good whore you are, come on… I wanna know how far you are planning to go” he says, and you strongly suspect he knew who you were all along…

You receive him again, trembling. Does he really know? Or is it just for the fantasy?

A series of violent thrusts bruise your pharynx, and as his frown shows you he is about to cum, he does. He doesn’t let you move your head back. And instead, he forces your mouth and throat to get bathed by his warm, sticky release.

“Drink it all, bitch” he commands, giving you no other option than to gobble his seed up.

When he finally stops crushing your wrists, you move them trying to see if you are even able to move them back. The marks of his knees over them are now an imprint of how violent and rude he could be with a woman. Or mostly with any other human being…

He should be dead by now.

“Look at you, whore. Such a mess, tch!” he protests cleaning the rests of his cum from the corners of your lips. And just when you thought he would only want you to let him fuck your cunt, he rips your collar off your neck.

You try to stop him, but Ichiji slaps you not hard but enough to prevent you from moving.

“Hehehe! You want this? Huh? Why? What’s this liquid, mhh?” he asks, sarcastically rejoicing in your desperate look.

You grab your cheek and ponder your possibilities. Either you attack him with your martial arts training, or you act as a sweet damsel pleading that collar is just a piece of decoration.

“Speak, whore!” he demands, shouting at you, pissed off.

“I- I- That’s my collar, my Prince! It’s just a piece of jewellery, I don’t know what the liquid is!” you act innocent, scanning the best possible way to kick the bastard.

“Very well then…” he says, smirking and unscrewing the lid of the little container. “Then why don’t we share some drops?”

You widen your eyes, is this crazy motherfucker willing to kill himself too? But you have no time to think as he lifts you up from bed and puts you in the ground with one violent swing.

You remain still, as his hand first rips your dress and then lands on your neck once again squeezing it harder. The container with the deathliest cyanide concentrate gets closer to your mouth and he pours the tiniest drop over your lower lip.

You tremble and keep your mouth sealed tightly. The little drop slides from your lip towards your chin leaving a mephitic yellowish trail.

“Do you think this tastes good?” he says, coming closer with his lips to yours. You are unable to speak, he is gonna die… as well as you. You slowly throw your head back, is not that you don’t want him not to die but if he kisses you, you will have some of that venom too.

He lets go of your neck but pushes you back until you hit the wall behind you. Pinned once again, you can only pray for this man not to go into suicidal mode. You can’t move, or else you will die.

“Let’s play a game, shall we? I will fuck you so rough, so fucking rough… and we will see how long you manage until you can’t keep your mouth closed not to die, little whore!... or should I say, fucking spy?”

Tears fall from your eyes, with trembling lips. But insanely as it sounds your sex throbs, and the wetness of your exhilaration drips from your cunt to the floor.

“Also, I will have to be strong not to kiss those juicy red lips… is that cyanide? Hah! Crazy!”

Ichiji pumps his dick a few times and mercilessly impales you right there, deep, stretching your walls. You fight against the need to moan, to whine. You can’t open your mouth…

You close your eyes; tears blur your vision anyway. But Ichiji wants you to look at him. “Open your eyes, whore. Look at me with those desperate eyes. Beg for mercy, beg your prince to let you live!” he says, turned into some kind of sadistic demon.

You feel yourself about to be ripped in half, and your teeth grith one against the other to keep your lips pressed. Ichiji sometimes gets dangerously closer to them, panting with his mouth open as he pumps on and on in and out of you.

His warmth breath only blows the venom, and you can feel it getting colder but still present there. You cry and throw your eyes back as he also slaps and pinch your nipples.

“You are so good with this, whore!! You are doing it so well, but how long can you resist? Huh?” he says, thrusting into you even more violently and squeezing your cheeks making your lips get on the verge of separating.

The contradiction of being tortured and enjoying the way he fucks you is killing you as climax approaches and your lower limbs begin to tremble.

“Coming already? Good you are almost there!!” he laughs so insanely, and his face shows you he is coming as well as you are. “Well, I guess I will cream pie you, bitch… I wish I could kiss you while I fill you up but oh well…” he says.

You fell the nerves of your core exploding, orgasming so hard, crying and moaning, praying for this to end but enjoying the way Ichiji also comes inside of your womb.

Some seconds pass as he empties himself inside you, even more excited by the tears in your eyes. “Good girl, you didn’t die!” he celebrates, pulling himself out of you. You feel his seed drip and slide from your entrance into your inner thighs.

“MHH…?” you mutter, begging for him to help you knowing too well he probably won’t. But he does and snatches your arm. “Come here, bitch. I’m not planning on killing you” he laughs and walks you to the bathroom.

Ichiji opens the tap and uses his hand with warm water to clean your lips. Once, twice, until no rests of poison cover your lips.

“Now I can kiss you properly… but before I do… in exchange for saving your life I want to fuck you every night from now on… ok?”

“Yes… My Prince ~”

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fictionadventurer · 2 years

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While I'm on the subject of plotting and Doctor Who, you know who was great at plot? Steven Moffat. The man is the master of the well-constructed plot, the shorter the story, the better. A multi-series show can go off the rails as he trails off in a million different directions. A full series of a show can have its rough patches and wind up unbalanced. But an individual episode? A masterpiece you could use to teach writing courses. A 4-8 minute minisode? One of the most beautifully constructed gems you've ever seen in your life. His plots are full of intricate internal logic and drawn from character and can highlight some of the loveliest themes because they're built on such a strong framework.

I think a big reason he's so good at plot is that he's a comedy writer. Comedy is nothing but set-up and payoff. Set up a situation. Pay it off in a surprising way. And the link between those two is character. If you set up that Character A has a certain personality trait, then when they encounter a new situation, you have them act according to that personality trait, and all sorts of funny things can result. The payoff makes sense because it was set up. That's also the gift of the running gag. If you mention something in the early part of the story, you can pass over it as useless information. Or as a minor joke that's over now. But at the end of the story, that seemingly minor piece can come back and resolve the whole thing, and it works because it was set up.

A great example of joke-turned-plot is "The Girl in the Fireplace." Plot: A spaceship is linked via a portal in time to 1700s France. The Doctor wanders back and forth between the past and the future. Later on, we see that a horse from the past has also wandered through the portal, and is now on the spaceship. Haha, silly gag, horse on a spaceship, good joke. But later, the portal closes, and the Doctor's trapped on the spaceship while people in the past are going to die. If only he had something large enough to break through. Surprise! He bursts through the barrier on a horse! The same horse from the gag! The joke was the setup for a plot payoff! And there's tons of that kind of thing in his work, plot hidden in jokes and jokes secretly building plot, and lots of plots that aren't about the jokes but always follow that rule of set-up and payoff.

There's just something so satisfying about a puzzle whose pieces all fit together. About a story that's well balanced. Character's great--and he's great at them--but there's something extra special about seeing them in a masterfully constructed plot. And it's been a long time since I've come across a plot that was as satisfying as his could be.

#other other random thought of the day #adventures in writing #steven moffat #this is actually two random thoughts of the day put together #i was going to do a separate post about how sitcoms teach you plot because of set up and payoff #but it wound up weaving in here #but i'll mention in the tags since this also sparked those thoughts #that corner gas has beautifully constructed plots #absurd ones? yes #but built on character and relying on those wonderful setups and payoffs #sitcoms are plot built from character and they're ideal for a really well-constructed plot #they don't have to worry about maintaining a sense of gravitas or drama #you can just take the absurdity to its logical conclusion #which means you can get absurd farce built on air-tight logic #and you rarely get that in drama #also?#other moffat thing that sparked this post?#those series 6 minisodes are divine #two in particular #that one where he talks to amy about changing the past may be the best thing he's ever written #and the day of the doctor minisode?#i have gone on at length about its layers and i could go on longer #it condenses the usual companion intro into two minutes #two!#establishes a character and makes total sense #*while* layering in dialogue that both works in context *and* winks at all the audience expectations around the airing of the minisode #'i'm a doctor. but probably not the one you were expecting'#that is GENIUS right there people!#anyhow we got tag limits now so i'll stop

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