Gifts for Muja
List of Gifts
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Aymeric catches Estinien at just the right moment when he goes off without showering again.
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"Look at you," Ainosuke coos, his voice saccharine sweet, yet laced with an undertone of darkness that sends shivers down his spine. "Such a good boy, awaiting your master so obediently."
The softest, almost inaudible sound passes through Tadashi's lips, something between a whimper and a moan that encompasses the overwhelming warmth he feels for Ainosuke. The praise that so freely tumbles from Ainosuke's lips gives Tadashi life; he thrives on Ainosuke's approval and suddenly he becomes overwhelmed with the urge to come forward and place his head in Ainosuke’s lap. He wants so much to feel Ainosuke’s deft fingers card through his hair and pet him, even when he knows better than to act so brazenly. Fortunately for Tadashi, Ainosuke is an attentive master and he's never been one to ignore him.
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Watching You Watching Me by LemonsForBreakfast for Muja
Fandoms: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
05 Dec 2021
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The drone was back again. Langa had started to notice a whirring outside his window for the past week. He didn't think much of it, figured it was just city noise, until he saw light glint briefly off of glass through the tree leaves outside his window. As soon as he turned to get a better look it was gone and he figured he must have been seeing things. Until a few nights later.
A drone has been watching Langa outside his bedroom window... And he doesn't hate it.
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When his aunts ask something of Ainosuke, there is no answer but yes.
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Jesse had to swallow at the sight, recognizing that everything about this was one big dream come to life. His eyes roam over Hanzo's exposed form. Draped like a goddamn dish before him was Hanzo in all his glory. Dainty feet led up to slender calves and muscular thighs, strong enough to break a man's head. His hips curved, giving him beautiful lines that went up that splendid ass and the taunt little puff of a tail and the crown of Hanzo's head, where two long, black ears draped down over his shoulders, blending in with his hair. Long, rounded-tipped ears. Two floppy, soft-furred ears.
Bunny.
Hanzo Shimada was a sweet little bunny.
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Jesse McCree and Hanzo Shimada have been sent to Blizzney World, thinking there is a Talon plot of terrorism happening at the merriest place on the planet. They quickly figure out it is a set up from their meddling siblings and decide to enjoy the day, get to know each other a little better, and maybe have a little romance along the way?
Genji and Fareeha are not content to just let their brothers go through. Both men are idiots when it comes to their feelings, so they tag along to help out just in case anything goes sour. What they didn't expect to find was a Talon plot at Blizzard World. They especially did not expect to find the Reaper.
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Hanzo Shimada decides to have a little fun after he finally catches the Mystery Man, a superhero who has been disrupting clan business but the tables are turned when the hero's partner shows up...
(Aka I don't know how to write descriptions)
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Written for the Genzo Charity Zine
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It started as only an itch; an annoyance that festered just under Genji's skin. He would run his hands against the cybernetic mesh that covered his sensitive skin with a vain hope that it would satisfy the need to scratch, only to have it redouble itself just moments later. The creeping desire spread over his back and down his legs. It left him irritated and annoyed with everyone that approached.
The unsettling sensation of something crawling just under his flesh, just under his synthetic skin had happened before. Genji always assumed it was another side effect of his surgeries. It was an underlying reaction to the mixture between organic and cybernetic body parts. Angela had warned him all those years about phantom pains and itches that would manifest themselves in times of stress.
And Overwatch reforming was just enough stress to leave him exhausted.
He needed peace. Tranquility. Space to refocus his mind and allow the dragon within him to settle once again.
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The chill of the morning air is what slowly pulled Hanzo from the comforts of sleep into a groggy awareness. Something had changed. His ears pricked as he listened to the distant creatures in the night, still singing their operatic tunes, but nothing else. He pulled the soft, heavy blankets further around his chin the moment he heard the distinct 'click' of wood against wood and the soft slide of his window, followed by the creak of toes pressed against the floor.
Hanzo settled into the plush pillows and heated blankets of the familiar routine. The security of Shimada castle was far too pristine to allow a thief beyond its high walls. No one would dare to try to breach the castle interior if they valued their blood remaining in their veins. Besides, no assassin would be that careless to make noise in his presence.
No, this was a predictable pattern, one he could always recognize.
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Hanzo attempts to knock some sense into Genji during a sparring session. Genji may have one or two unorthodox tricks up his sleeve - as well as a little outside interference.
Series
- Part 3 of it runs in the family
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It does not matter what they say now, Sojiro reflects, his son saved him. And so, he will save his sons.
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Genji turned to Hanzo and offered his brother a smile, honey-golden eyes glinting with interest as he reached a hand out. Just as Hanzo hoped, he was too drunk to recognize his brother. He reached out and took Genji’s hand in a delicate hold, “Mizaki.”
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He walks over to his dresser and admires himself in the mirror, examining the bold lines of red and white that paint his face, looking for any kind of smudge or smear that he needs to touch up--and he startles as he notices a shadow lurking in the corner of the room, leaning casually against the wall.
Hanzo whips around, grabbing for the first weapon he can feel on the dresser: his paintbrush. He clutches it in a white-knuckled fist and hisses, “Who are you? How did you get in here?”
The figure moves, shrugging off the wall and stepping closer, and Hanzo brings the brush up in front of his face, baring its blunt, wooden end toward the stranger.
“Answer me! Don’t move!”
“Am I allowed to move my mouth, if it’s to answer you?” The man’s voice is familiar, and all it takes is him looking up--the shine of his amber eyes under the brim of his straw hat--for Hanzo to relax against his dresser, the grip on his paintbrush going slack.
“...Genji?”
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It’s been six months since Hanzo found himself on the roster of the team called Overwatch.
He had been--to put it lightly--hesitant, at first, to mingle with the rest of his new-found allies; the British girl and her gorilla friend were nice enough, if mildly annoying, and the cowboy that somehow found his way into almost every room Hanzo was in had a certain sort of rugged almost-charm to him. The omnics were quiet enough and kept to themselves, the blonde medic seemed attentive and kind, and the older sniper and her silver-haired soldier were around so infrequently they might as well have been ghosts.
But then there was Genji.
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Genji always knows what his brother needs.
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He’s been on the run for what feels like his entire life--stealing through the woods of Japan and slinking in the shadows, living alone and paranoid in the name of self-preservation--and it doesn’t seem fair that it’s on such a beautiful, sunny spring day that his luck finally runs out.
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Since the uprising of Hanamura’s newest celebrity hero, the village nights have gotten much quieter; and never before has Sentaiman been more happy for it than now, when he’s got his favorite adoring fanboy backed up against an alley wall and starry-eyed.