the final fantasy anonymous kink meme

[shanaqui]

I have made this post public again despite leaving LJ to allow people to save their own fics, etc.

Since this kind of thing seems to be spreading LJ-wide, I thought it was time we had one. ;) The original, I believe, is the Bleach Kink Meme, and there's a master list of others here. ;)

So...
The Final Fantasy Anonymous Kink MemeWhat is it? It's

Comments

(2)

[anonymous]

When the swirl of red drops from her sight, she's in her own house. In her own living room, standing on legs shaky from the sudden transport. And there he is, directly behind her, his claw curving around her hip. She attempts to step out of his grasp, but her skirt catches on one of the curved points covering his fingers. His opposite hand closes around her wrist, and she easily jerks free: he'll have to try harder than that.

She doesn't stay still. His arms move to close around her, and she lunges out of his way. It's a contest of reflexes, and in full-body motion, she has the edge. It's speed where he's come to really best her now, and she knows she's not slow. The second time he gets her in his grasp, he uses the claw to his advantage and catches the front of her shirt in it, ripping.

Her foot connects with his hip and makes him stumble, but he blocks her fist and her knee and surprises her when he takes advantage of her raised leg to force her, half-sprawling, onto her back. It's a move he could easily have gotten from her during one of their more playful sparring sessions, and with her back against the floor she feels as if she's had the wind knocked out of her.

He hesitates, but she's not back on her feet before he's upon her, a knee positioned on either side of her hips. His right hand claims hers, holding it over her head, but her left one lashes out. Her knuckles scrape against the metal prong of one of the buckles on his cloak, and she can feel almost instantly that it's deep enough to bleed.

His eyes meet hers. The bleeding hand is taken captive as well, and he raises it, pushing down the collar of his mantle with it, for a kiss that leaves his lips stained with red. Her entire midsection goes taut when he leans over her, buckled collar still impatiently held down, and pushes his mouth against hers. His long hair gets in the way, strays between their mouths, but he's focused enough that he doesn't even brush it back. She can taste a hint of copper in the instant before his tongue slips past her lips.

The way he's pressed against her makes it easy to feel just how hard he's gotten, and the mere thought sends anticipation buzzing down her spine. One-handed, he roughly shucks her skirt up her hips toward her waist, and though her wrists are harder to keep pinned with one of his arms and she makes an attempt to buck him, she knows deep down that she's just not struggling as much as she could be.

(3)

[anonymous]

He lifts himself up -- just slightly -- and his bare hand ventures between her thighs, playing for a few seconds against the thin strip of cloth between her legs. His hair keeps falling in front of him and the mantle hides part of his lower face, but she can see the excitement in his eyes and the faintest flush in his cheeks as he worms his fingers under her panties in search of warm wetness.

The metal of his gauntlet bites into her arms as he pins her hands against him, but her eyes are riveted when he pulls his own hand away from her so he can draw his erection out of his pants. Above the shoulders and below the navel, there are few scars on his body. It's a contrast she knows intimately.

There's little in the way of foreplay: the back of his hand nudges her legs into parting, and after positioning just so and pulling the crotch of her panties to one side, he rolls his hips and uses his index finger and thumb to guide himself in. She's not sure who's more breathless, but she can feel her eyes narrow as he stretches her, can hear the strangled gasp that makes it out of her own throat.

But her arms have given up the fight completely, and she tugs at his cloak, suddenly maddened by it even though she'd wanted him to wear it. His dark red eyes flit over her, watching her expression, and for a second she's certain she spots a ghost of a smile on his lips. His hold on her loosens, and her hands instinctively move toward the buckles on his cloak again, this time to do something about them.

Once the cloak is unbuckled, she reaches down between them, where her own hand takes over the job of keeping her panties to the side and makes it even more worth her while by letting two eager fingertips rub over her clit. His momentum is deliciously slow and deliberate but doesn't stay there, and his hands coax her hips up, raising them off the floor to meet him.

His eyes are mere slits and his grip on her is enough to bruise, but it's the low rumble in his throat as he pushes into her that really gets to her. She tightens around him, all desperate clenching reflex, and another sound -- almost a growl -- escapes him. There's a stutter and then a pause in the insistence of his hips, and the part of her brain still capable of coherent thought knows he'd prefer it if she came first. She looks at him with widened eyes, refusing to speak and break what's left of the spell the fantasy had.

This is supposed to be all about him taking exactly what he wants from her, and he shouldn't wait for her this time.

(4)

[anonymous]

She's so slick around him that it's audible, and the little squelches each thrust rewards him with seem to set him off even more. His eyes shut completely, cloak finally falling off his shoulders, and he makes one last dip deep into her, his breath coming in rasps. His body shudders, stills for a second, and then rocks into hers again and again until he's spent, until he stops spurting inside her.

It's what she wanted, and still she's torn between gratification and mild disappointment. But only because she's so close.

Close enough to nearly ache from it. And so turned on she can hardly stand it.

After a moment, he opens his eyes again and braces himself with a hand against the floor while he pulls out of her.

Her fingers haven't ceased their efforts, and he stops them by covering her hand with his. "Don't."

Her eyes betray her confusion as she watches him, but he silently moves down and positions his head and shoulders between her thighs. His claw makes such quick work of her panties that there's little warning before he slips two long real fingers into her, and at the same time, she feels the warmth of his breath and the touch of his tongue.

His clawed hand, possessive, comes up to rest almost too heavily on her flat stomach.

His usual reverence takes a back seat to hunger, and his tongue slides down to lick the excess of wetness -- her juices mingling with his semen -- that seeps out of her around his fingers. When his tongue returns to toy with her clit, she bucks her hips and hisses his name, almost frustrated.

He doesn't even spare a glance up at the sound. He just keeps burying his fingers inside her, finding that spot that makes her legs writhe around him in desperation, drawing intricate patterns with his tongue until she lets out a ragged cry and arches her body toward him. He keeps his mouth pressed to her until she lets up, until she stops clamping around his fingers.

Until the tension leaves her body and she goes boneless with satisfaction for him.

She can feel a smile creep onto her face when he finally comes up for air, wiping his chin and then deftly using one hand to tuck himself back into his pants. "How would you feel about being tied up sometime?"

His pause isn't as long as it would have been once upon a time, and he tugs her up into his arms. "Perhaps you should find out."