#OHHHHHHohohohohohohoHO

[hellfire-state-of-mind]

ohhhhhhohohohohohohoho this is sexy (literally and figuratively)

🐮💛

Oh…

🐮 asks

[pseudofaux]

Pseu, may I ask for an SLBP Hanzo/MC/Ieyasu as teasing or as spicy as you want? Please?

YESSSSSSSS 😍😍😍 This has been on my mind since your ask popped up, I feel like my SLBP life has lead me to this moment. Thank you very much for asking for this, I really really hope you will enjoy it!

(Requests are closed, readers, but there are a lot to be filled in May and likely June, too! Feel free to follow along or just check in and enjoy as many as you like. A masterlist will go up when they are all completed.)

“If you are going to be here, you must sit very carefully. See that you do not disturb his lordship,” Master Masanari says. She nods immediately and is already thinking of ways to use her pestle quietly when Ieyasu snorts.

“I’m not worried about her at all, snake. See that you don’t ‘disturb’ me for once.”

Her eyes go so wide she feels the air on them. She will never get used to the venomous way Lord Ieyasu speaks to Master Masanari. They serve him, and he is lord here, but he is just a man, and she would have though no one in the world stupid enough to speak that way to someone as ceaselessly dangerous as her master. But that master does not seem the least bit bothered, and now she wonders if the reason he comes home to his room at night looking so very pleased with himself is because he is returning from time spent with someone who does not simper.

Or maybe he smiles so much because he has dangled something over Lord Ieyasu until the younger man snapped at him to get out. He does take a singular pleasure in vexing the young lord. She is a little worried, based on how they each slide their eyes to her when they think she is absorbed in her work, that she is something being dangled over Lord Ieyasu tonight.

Her mind may be nothing compared to theirs, but she would be a fool indeed to have missed all the Tokugawa lord’s looks over the last few months. They’ve changed from distrust to something she suspects is desire. It’s not her place to act on that-- and she does not have any wish to find out what her master would do if she ever made the slightest attempt-- so she has been polite and deferential. Only polite and deferential.

“Hey,” Lord Ieyasu says, and she can tell he is talking to her mostly by the way she can see how widely Master Masanari is grinning.

“Why do you work for that bastard?” he asks. Master Masanari only grins. It doesn’t even sharpen, really. Being a lord must mean being very bold, she thinks.

“Master Masanari is very good to me,” she says carefully. “He’s taught me many things, and keeps me safe from many harms.”

She prays he does not press, but the heavens are not listening. “Who keeps you safe from him, huh?”

“I have no desire to be safe from Master Masanari.” Her voice and the room are both very, very quiet. Until her master laughs in complete delight.

“I thought you would manage to hold out longer, Lord Ieyasu. I will ask Sakai to teach you patience, it seems you have a lot to learn.”

The Lord of the Tokugawa goes red in the face and jabs his writing brush in Master Masanari’s direction. “Listen here, you viper—” but then he gasps and trails off, and when she looks at her master’s beautiful face there is a splatter of ink on his flawless cheek.

She goes to him immediately, clean cloth in hand. But he grabs at her wrist and slowly shakes his head. “No need to dirty your supplies, darling,” he says mildly, and pulls her into his lap while she frets over his face. “This is Lord Ieyasu’s doing, and it should be his responsibility to clean up.”

She spares a glance for the lord of the Tokugawa, who is still red in the face but has sat back down in a way she might call (if he were not there to hear) vaguely meek.

“Sadly, I am repulsed by the idea of making his lordship attend to my face, so you must do it, little mouse. And be quick, please, you must help me avoid a stain.”

She reaches for the cloth again but his grip on her has no give. He smiles and gently shakes his head again. It seems he is trying not to move the ink too much.

“Please forgive me,” she says quietly, before she raises her thumb to his face, thinking if she can get the wet ink on herself it will at least be less on him.

“You are as stupid as you are sweet-natured,” Master Masanari says kindly. “Even maids know you must clean wet with wet.”

“It is the job of maids to know so!” she retorts, and looks around the room for some other idea. Lord Ieyasu is watching her in Master Masanari’s lap with very wide, wet eyes.

Wet. Ah!

She looks Master Masanari in his own merry eyes and slowly brings her thumb to her mouth. And she licks it.

“Clever mouse,” he says. “But not clever enough. You are so very close to it, my love. I promise you have everything you need.”

She stares at her thumb in a way that feels as dumb as he must think she is.

“Remember that you must hurry,” her master says calmly.

She jerks her hands up to cup his face. He does not hold her back. He smiles right into her face, close to his. She whispers “Forgive me,” and he smiles even wider and says “We shall see what I shall do,” before she closes her eyes and licks the ink from his face.

Bitter! It’s so bitter and cold! It tastes like ash and sadness. She pulls back to see how much of it she got. The splatter is gone but the ink had already begun to stain him while she dithered. “Pardon me,” she says before bowing her head, and then she comes back up to lick him again, trying to be gentle but somehow manage to scrub him clean. When she checks again it’s fainter but stubborn, set in his skin like venom.

Later, she resolves, when she is alone, she will go over the events of this evening very carefully and see if there was a sign that he planned this. But for now, she asks for his forgiveness once more before she sets her mouth over the stain and sucks to pull it out of him, same as she would if he’d been bitten by a snake. As if a snake would ever bite one of his brothers.

His cheek is so pliant under her. This would be something like pleasant if they were alone and she were not scrambling against a force she has so little control over. But, she admits to herself, Master Masanari probably wouldn’t be having so much fun if she weren’t scrambling.

She pulls back after several effortful sucks at his skin and looks closely.

“Bring me my little glass,” he tells her, patting her bottom in full view of Lord Ieyasu. She is already hot in the face, and she’s certain the young lord’s discomfort is apparent. She crawls out of her master’s lap (without any help, naturally) and takes the polished circle out of his case and hands it to him.

She thinks she managed to do alright. His face is pink where she sucked out the last of the stain, but she can’t see any traces of ink on him. It’s all on her tongue now, making every swallow taste dreadful. A part of her knows they could have all three been spared this trouble if he had just told her what to do, but even that part knows the idea of Master Masanari being direct is even more frightening than the way he toys with people.

He hums as he regards himself. “You were very enthusiastic,” he observes, touching the flushed spot gingerly. “But you were also every effective. Good girl,” he tells her. She nearly collapses on the spot. When he tells her to show him her tongue she does so immediately.

“Now for you,” he says, turning toward the desk in the room. “Since Sakai is not here to teach you a lesson, and I would be remiss in my duty if I did not address your lack of patience, I will show you the error of your ways.” His eyes glitter. “You must always be prepared to clean up your messes, Lord Ieyasu.”

That lord sits there stiffly and says nothing. Her jaw would drop if she were not so sure she will be told how to involve herself in the very next minute.

Indeed, Master Masanari says to her (without any of the ice that was in his voice when he addressed the highest ranking person in the room) “As I said, decorum repulses me from having Lord Ieyasu himself attend to the face he attempted to paint.” His smile for her is so real and warm she almost, almost believes she is safe. “And you did such fine work,” he adds, thumbing the spot on her own cheek where his is red. “Eventually.”

She feels her face go up in flames behind his hands, and he laughs and pinches her cheek. He is gentle about it, at least.

“I have no such compulsion to keep Lord Ieyasu from cleaning up your mess, sweet. Go sit next to him.”

He smiles at the worried look she shoots him, and that is so commonplace it is very nearly comforting. She goes on her knees with her head down and ducks it lower when she sits beside the Tokugawa lord. Up close he smells pleasantly like green things and expensive incense. A lord indeed. She does not dare to look at him.

“Show him your tongue,” Master Masanari says, and it is not kind, though it does not feel like the edge is aimed at her. She bows her head once more before coming up and opening her mouth for the Lord of the Tokugawa, averting her eyes completely.

“Did you get a good look at that, Tokugawa Ieyasu,” Master Masanari says like a silk-wrapped sword, “Did you see the mess I am talking about?”

“I could hardly miss it!” Lord Ieyasu snaps. “What of it?!”

Master Masanari tilts his head at the two of them and hums like they have amused him. She supposes somehow they have. “We’ll have to work on making your mind more nimble at some point, Lord Ieyasu. “Now you,” he enunciates clearly like he is talking to an idiot, “are to take care of that mess that you made. And I hope you’ll show us both that you are in fact a brilliant mind of our time and can do so more efficiently than my silly little assistant.”

Her face is downcast again, so she sees the way Lord Ieyasu’s hand clenches so tightly in rage that it trembles.

“I don’t think anyone has missed the way you look after her when she leaves a room,” Master Masanari says quietly. “You might be grateful for this private opportunity to correct your mistakes.”

He has never shown much possession toward her, but she has only heard him use that tone on enemies. It makes her feel very cold and alone.

“I am the lord of this castle, and your employer,” Ieyasu seethes. Master Masanari says nothing, seemingly content to leave the statement to stretch into the silence until it goes so long without being dignified by anyone else that it seems as though it must have been a pout.

“Oh, damn you to hell,” Lord Ieyasu says, and then turns to her and nudges up her chin. “Be still,” he says tersely, as though she could do anything else when his mouth slams down on hers.

Master Masanari claps three times in the quiet of the room and cheerfully-- cheerfully-- says, “The ink is inside her mouth, Lord Ieyasu. It will take a very long time if you do not vary your approach.”

“Shut. Up.” Ieyasu snarls, and he grabs her arms like she is the one who taunted him and pushes his tongue, wet and warm, against her mouth. She tries to apologize for the taste as she opens for him, but her words are lost against the press of him, and her eyes frantically seek out her Master.

Who sits serenely. There is a tiny glitter in his eyes as he watches, but his smile is not false. As best as she can tell.

Lord Ieyasu keeps his bruising grip on her upper arms, but he pulls back and makes a show of spitting nothing out of his mouth. “What did you do to my ink, you bastard. I’ve had it in my mouth before, it doesn’t taste like this.”

“Master Masanari!” she cries.

“Why would I have done anything to your correspondence?” he asks, the picture of innocence. “More importantly, did you say you imbibe the ink on your stone? Lord Ieyasu, there are much more pleasant--”

“ENOUGH,” Ieyasu shouts, loud enough that she flinches in his grip. His eyes flit to hers angrily but he relaxes his hands. He does not remove them.

“Open your mouth,” he says, the tension rolling off him like an avalanche. “Please,” he mouths.

She nods and parts her lips. This second time, his entry is slow enough that she would slump if he were not holding her by the arms. Who knew this man, with all his sharpness, could kiss so softly, so warm? His tongue is tentative but unharmful, and when it curls gently with hers she gasps and knows the pleasure of his smile against her mouth.

Master Masanari must have heard or seen or both, because he chimes in with a patronizing, “My goodness, is a simple girl better at this than you are? What will become of the Tokugawa?”

Lord Ieyasu’s fingers dig right back into her arms and he uses the grip to push her away like she has bitten him.

“You ask as if the Tokugawa depend on how well I can kiss your whore!” Ieyasu spits.

That hurts a little, but it’s not really of any consequence. His fingers shake where they hold her. She wishes she could offer him some comfort, or at least commiseration, but that would, without a doubt, make it worse for him. So she looks away from him and tries to breathe evenly. Her heart is beating very fast from everything that has happened. And from the gentle skill of his kiss. That was devastating. Why does he have no woman?

“Oh, but it does,” Master Masanari says calmly. She sees that there is a very long, sharp needle in his hand. “When I am vexed by an opponent, little lord, I throw a weapon, not a drop of ink. I’m disappointed you did not know this basic difference.”

The men stare at one another for a very long time, Ieyasu’s grip on her as tight as his glare is fierce. But animals know when they face a foe that can gut them, and if they want to live they show their bellies and slink away. The mighty lord of the Tokugawa lowers his eyes and screws them up tight when Master Masanari laughs, never one to let a belly go untickled.

“And I’ll need you to apologize to her,” he adds, clearly providing an afterthought. “Only I may call her whore.”

“That’s really not necessary!” she exclaims, trying to spare Lord Ieyasu the notion by waving her hands in her lap, but he snaps “Don’t pity me!” and she is silenced.

“Snake,” Ieyasu says, with impressive calm for someone whose body shakes from fury, “One day I will make you regret this.”

“I very much doubt you could, when ‘this’ makes me so happy,” Master Masanari says. “But I look forward to all your growth, Lord Ieyasu, as a servant of the Tokugawa and your friend.”

Tokugawa Ieyasu tches so hard she worries for his front teeth, but then he is turning his face toward her and she feels as pinned by the rich brown of his eyes as she often is by deep purple. Her lips naturally part to take in a deep breath as he looms closer, then fits his mouth to hers with finesse so stunning she squeaks.

Like a mouse. Which may be why Master Masanari laughs. But he does not interrupt them.

Lord Ieyasu sweeps his tongue over hers, recoiling at first from the taste but tutting into her mouth-- the warmth of his breath makes her chest tingle-- and coming back again, better prepared. He gently, gently licks her tongue, swallowing quietly every few times to take what bitter ink he manages to dislodge from her back into his mouth. Slowly his grip slackens again, and his thumbs stroke the sides of her arms above where he holds her. One is rough from archery, the other more supple. Both are very pleasant, a secret she resolves to forget immediately as soon as she leaves the room.

One hand lets her go entirely and strokes down her arm so pleasantly she does not know if she will be able to forget it. Certainly not the way he chuckles, deep and pleased with himself, into her mouth as he finds one of her hands and slowly curls over it just as he coaxes her tongue into his mouth so he can suck on it. The command in him, and the way she so immediately wants to follow where he guides her, say very promising things for the future of the Tokugawa. Even if Master Masanari is around to give him so much trouble.

“Show me your tongue,” Master Masanari whispers behind her ear. She startles with a cry and Lord Ieyasu parts from her with a curse. She had been so involved she was not even thinking about him in the room.

“Both of you,” he adds. “I do not want you to work too hard, of course.”

“I’m not showing you my mouth, you degenerate,” Ieyasu declares. “See for yourself if there’s anything left on her tongue.”

She can only turn her head so far, but she turns it that far and shows him her tongue, eyebrows up to show how she seeks his approval.

He hums and puts a fingertip on her tongue, rubbing lazily. “I suppose that will have to do,” he says. “Come now, little mouse,” he tells her as he gently presses her jaw up and closed. “Let us leave the Tokugawa lord to his work, he has not been very attentive to his letters tonight.”

“And whose fault is that, I wonder,” the Tokugawa lord grits through his teeth.

“Let us hope he works more tidily from now on,” Master Masanari continues as though he has not even heard. He pulls her back and to her feet. “Come, come. We will gather your things later.”

“So much for the virtue of tidiness,” Lord Ieyasu says. “Pick up after yourselves.”

“Oh, young lord,” Master Masanari says indulgently. “Do not worry. As your humblest servant I can tell you need some time alone to think over all that’s happened tonight. It is my pleasure to give you such time.”

Ieyasu sucks in a deep breath and sighs it out, but says nothing.

She bows and bids him good night on a whisper. He says nothing to her, either, but he nods. Twice. Abrupt little movements that make her smile and want to stay beside him. But Master Masanari has a hold on her arm and is pulling her out the door and then shutting it silently behind them.

“What a night for you,” he whispers as he pins her to the shogi. His hand protects the back of her head but does not muffle the thump, which Lord Ieyasu undoubtedly heard. “How does your mouth taste?”

“Fine,” she says in a small voice. “Normal.”

He puts his nose to her lips and breathes in like he would be able to catch the scent of ink inside her. He hums unquietly and she begins to fidget, worrying they are disturbing the lord he said they were leaving to allow to work.

She is unquiet when he tweaks one of her nipples, his knowledge of her body unerring and direct.

“Shh, shh,” he says, perhaps a touch louder than his usual speaking voice. “He’ll hear. I think that would distract him, don’t you?”

He kisses her before she can answer, and his kiss is surprisingly soft, the gentlest he has ever worked his tongue with hers. The familiarity of it to the kisses she had just received makes her weak, and the surprised moan it pulls out of her is nearly as embarrassing as the wickedness of his smile.

“You’re right,” he declares, not quiet at all. “I shall take you to bed at once, pet, do not fear.”

“Master Masanari,” she whispers, “That’s not what I--”

“SHHHHHHH,” he says like a performer, and she can feel her body deflate when she sighs between his body and the shoji. Why does she even bother?

“Come along now,” he whispers-- actually whispers-- right by her ear, tone silky and pleased as she has ever heard him. He must have thought this was great fun. When he pulls her by her wrist, she goes.

“Good night, Lord Ieyasu,” he whispers, and she is confused until she looks behind her and sees a shadow retreating from the other side of the lattice and paper wall.

She keeps her mouth shut, because she knows he does not like pity. But there is pity in her heart when she looks over her shoulder at the spot on the wall where he was standing, listening to them. She thinks of him each time Master Masanari kisses her that night, always gentle, so gentle, with tiny sucks of her tongue and all over her limbs. He strokes her arms and takes her hands and curls his long fingers around them. She thinks he is trying to keep Lord Ieyasu in her mind even as he pushes into her body and makes her call his name, helpless in the bliss he gives.

She dreams of red-brown eyes and the gentleness they hide, and the next time her master orders her to attend him in Lord Ieyasu’s office, she bows her head to hide her face in case it shows him any of her dreaming. Not that he wouldn’t know. Not that he wasn’t the one who put it there.

[wowitsverycool]

Hold On A Fucking Second