stcclcdhonor

[stcclcdhonor]

USFW BODY AND CYBERWARE HEADCANONS:

in honor of sinday, i present to you these gem hcs i put together to share<3

also good to keep organized for you know, science reasons (;

starting off strong

GENITAL PHYSICALITY

Size & Shape: Above average in both length and girth — proportionate to his tall, broad-shouldered frame, but not exaggerated. The kind of presence that feels imposing more because of confidence and control than raw size.

Appearance: Clean, well-maintained — trimmed dark pubic hair, dense but neatly kept, matching the black of his hair. Skin tone is consistent with his overall complexion and RealSkinn.

Natural over Augmented: Being a traditionalist with disciplined nature, he is entirely organic as far as his genitals go. He would never replace or cybernetically enhance his genitals. He values discipline and human integrity, and would see augmentations in that area as vanity or weakness.

No Piercings or Decorative Mods: Again, tradition. His sense of masculinity comes from discipline and presence, not flash.

Functionality: He’s in excellent health from constant, and consistent physical training, meaning strong stamina/performance. Even without cybernetic enhancements, his conditioning gives him significant endurance.

CYBERWARE

Absolutely no cybernetic alterations directly on his genitals (as previously stated.) Nor any purposely meant for intercourse.

Elsewhere: You can find more specific cyberware hcs here.

Takemura is around 40–50% cybernetic by body mass, but not in a way that replaces soft tissue in his torso or genitals — his major cyberware is concentrated in:

Musculoskeletal augmentations (reinforced joints, tendons, and synthetic musculature in legs, arms, and spine for combat readiness)

Sensory enhancements (ocular, auditory)

Reflex boosters and neural link systems

Dermal armor plating in strategic areas (non-vital soft tissue mostly spared)

NERVE FUNCTION — ORGANIC VS. SYNTHETIC

Organic regions (including his genitals and lower abdominal area) retain full biological nerve endings — sensitive, warm, and responsive like any unaugmented body.

Cybernetic regions transmit sensation via neural interface — tactile signals are routed to the brain, but the quality of the sensation is subtly different. Cybernetic touch can feel slightly “cleaner” or “sharper” than natural skin’s more nuanced texture perception.

Sexually, he has 100% normal arousal, function, and sensation in organic zones, while cybernetic touch from his hands or limbs may feel more deliberate and precise but lacks some of the natural micro-warmth of human skin.

Because his nervous system is partially cybernetically integrated, neurochemical arousal responses can be heightened — orgasms might hit harder because the neural network amplifies certain feedback loops.

CYBERWARE AUGMENTATIONS THAT MAY ENHANCE INTIMACY

Enhanced sensory feedback: Cybernetic enhancements in his tongue or oral nerves could provide him with heightened tactile sensitivity, allowing him to detect micro-changes in texture and temperature for better precision. (we're talking cunnilingus (;)

Neural interface precision: Implants linked to his nervous system might give him finer motor control over subtle movements, increasing the accuracy and delicacy of his technique.

Extended stamina: Combat-grade cyberware boosting endurance could allow him to maintain focus and physical effort longer without fatigue.

Bio-monitors: Internal systems could help regulate his own physiological state, keeping him calm and centered during intimate moments.

[stcclcdhonor]

hear me out..

[stcclcdhonor]

Impassive like a statue carved from principle, unmoving even as her words reached him. The wind curled around his frame, catching on the long line of his coat and stirring the quiet between them. She had expected the change in his tone — of course she had. Her grin, though unseen, could be felt, and that unsettled him more than anything she had said aloud. She wasn't surprised by his distance. Worse — she understood it.

And that made him want to leave more than her insight.

Takemura kept his back to her, not out of dismissal, but preservation. A moment to regain control. Eris had touched something beneath the armored exterior, something worn thin by years of obedience and exile. She hadn’t meant to, perhaps — but she had.

Her voice behind him was soft, not fragile. It carried the tired weight of someone who’d played every game and lost just enough times to know what pride cost.

‘Pride will kill you in this place before loneliness.’

The words settled into him like ash. She wasn’t wrong. But they still made something behind his ribs twist — because even if pride hadn't killed him yet, it had certainly kept him from living.

Her attempt to ease the tension didn’t go unnoticed. Prideful. Yes. She was. So was he. It was, ironically, the one trait that kept them both walking upright in a city that demanded everyone kneel.

Goro didn’t turn around, not yet. Instead, he listened to her words, the cadence of them. The apology. Formal, old-world. Something she hated in herself, if he read her right.

❝I am not offended,❞ he said finally, voice low and cool. ❝Curiosity is not a sin. Only the assumptions made from it.❞

He glanced back, the faintest turn of his head. Just enough for her to see the edge of his face. The wind ruffled the loose strands of his hair slightly, giving the moment a strange softness that didn’t quite belong.

❝You say I might come to understand,❞ he murmured. ❝But some things, once understood, cannot be forgotten.❞

His posture softened by degrees, the tight line of his shoulders slackening just slightly as he turned the rest of the way — slow, deliberate, controlled. As always...

When he saw her again, seated and at ease, cigarette case in hand, the light catching her pale face and distant smile, he felt the instinct to retreat shift into something else. Something quieter. Not comfort. But… proximity to it.

He approached, sitting down — not as stiffly as before, but not relaxed either. Knees bent, elbows resting lightly there, his frame folding inward in thought.

A long silence passed.

❝I have no home in this city.❞

There was no bitterness in the way he said it. Just fact. ❝A borrowed safehouse. Rotating addresses. Some nights, a rented room in Japantown. Others, a car seat with blackout glass.❞

He paused. The truth always came like this — sharpened, controlled, and never asked for. But something about her had made it necessary.

❝I keep moving,❞ he said simply. ❝I do not want to be found.❞

His gaze flicked to the wolf on the cigarette case. A curious emblem for someone so fractured.

❝What about you?❞ he asked with genuine curiosity. ❝Where do you go when the city closes its eyes?❞

Initially, Eris didn't believe it when he said it wasn't crazy. Eris used to stare at herself in the mirror, thinking she scarcely recognized the woman she used to be. But, what was she? How can someone not recognize who they are if they don't remember who they were? A dilemma she struggles with nearly a decade after fleeing the confines of Militech.

What Takemura said was true.

Eris was not used to this. The unfiltered truth. She'd never told a soul about her own whole truth, but she did test people about it. Playing at 'do you know who I am?' games with strangers in half the hope that they will expose her for what she is. Like she needed some confirmation. But now that she was being given the entirety of it, she didn't feel good. She didn't feel any different.

It was the same machine. All of it. A rivalry between two companies that has become an arms race to the same goal; harbor the use of the old net as a way to get back at the opposing side. Eris knew better than most that tampering with AI was just not worth the toil. But what did it matter when the heads of these corporations didn't have to undergo the process of harnessing these weapons? Leave it to lackeys like Eris and Takemura.

Eris listened, retained, and filtered this information about him. Very personal, this guy, when speaking. She didn't mind.

However, that gentle moment shattering had caused her to grin. She grinned because she expected the change in his tone, the deflecting answer, the protective steel over the plagues of the heart. Eris knew it well. Lived it, for a time.

"Pride will kill you in this place before loneliness." A gentle response, distant, as she turned her head away just as he turned his back on her. Eris hated when people did that. "Which is why I'm surprised I'm still alive. Very prideful, you see." Cool, casual reversal of the conversation, humbling herself to hopefully assuage the downtrodden mood between them.

The eventual return of her gaze to his back, staying in her comfortably seated position. "Sit down, Takemura. Don't think too deeply about it. You might not want to be understood; that's your right. But you can come to understand. I apologize if my inquisitive nature is an offense." Saying that almost felt like a sticky habit at the roof of her mouth, old corporate-taught mannerisms that never left the back of her mind. Though she was genuine, she hated the way she worded it.

"Ease your mind a bit, it's a beautiful evening." Eris pulled a silvery canister from her pocket, a cigarette case with a wolf embossed on its surface. "Where are you laying your head at night in this city?"

[stcclcdhonor]

The ex-Arasaka listens, chin slightly lowered, eyes fixed on Johnny like a hawk weighing the distance before striking. On the surface, his posture is unchanged — hands behind his back, weight evenly distributed — but Johnny’s words are slipping under his armor all the same. The smallest, most imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth betrays the irritation clawing at the edges of his restraint.

❝You speak as though you have uncovered a flaw I have not considered.❞ His voice is calm, but every syllable is clipped to perfection, the kind of precision born from a man clinging to patience with white knuckles.

❝I have calculated the likelihood of irregular movement. Guards are human. They deviate from schedule. This is why I have factored a window long enough to adapt to — how did you put it? — ‘pit stops.’❞

He steps past Johnny, inspecting the dusty concrete wall beside them like it might hold the next move in a game of shogi.

❝But your point stands — if we are compromised, we must act before the alarm reaches the convoy commander. Shooting is last resort. It always is,❞ he turns back, eyes sharp as glass under the dim neon flicker as they settle on him, almost in warning to his words.

❝Since you will not offer an alternative, I will prepare two. A diversion… or a retreat route. If you object to both, then we can wait until the convoy passes, and you may find a blender in which to test your metaphor.❞ The faintest ghost of a smirk threatens at the corner of his mouth, but it dies before it can form.

Still, Johnny will notice — the man is irritated, yes, but he’s also refusing to hand over the satisfaction of an outburst.

Zen will do enough for the both of them.

@stcclcdhonor

[continued from here]

Despite Goro's absolute best efforts to remain stoic, Johnny can see that he's irritating him already. Good. He doesn't trust the guy, not fully. He wouldn't be satisfied if the tension was one sided.

Truth be told, his main objection to the plan is who came up with it. He's pretty sure Goro is well aware of that. Still, he's not above nitpicking. The goal is, as always, to be irritating, to feel like he isn't just submitting without a fight- but, he knows there's a practicality to it, as well.

It's always best to have a second set of eyes on a plan- especially someone who's dedicated to picking apart every little way it could fail, no benefit of the doubt given. This plan has to work- if they get caught, they're fucked.

“Plan's got no failsafe. Shift change makes the whole thing unpredictable-” it's still the best time to move, an advantage over anything else, but… best to be prepared for the downside, too.

“Jimmy eats a petrified burrito for lunch, takes a trip to the first floor shitter at the end of his shift, comes out when we're expecting the area to be empty, next thing you know bullets are flying. People make pit stops. Vending machine. Personal call. Risk of a guard being somewhere other than their stations goes up.”

“Needs either a distraction,” which will ruin this lovely idea of doing the whole thing stealth, “or a plan for when we get caught other than blasting holes in all your Saka buddies.”

Is he going to offer a plan B or a conceptual distraction? No. That would make Goro's side of things easier, and he's not in the mood to be helpful.

[stcclcdhonor]

"You're like a poem, you know that? You make everything around you beautiful." // from V!!

Flirting Sentences, Vol. 5

❝詩か…❞ (Poetry?) The simple word leaves his lips like a low question from the depth of his chest, brows knitting as if to consider the statement ― compliment?

Takemura’s gaze lingers on her, sharp but softened at the edges, as though he’s weighing the compliment for cracks. Finally, he exhales slowly, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as the neon lights glint across her ivory complexion.

He can't help but admire the innocence in the sight, almost more than the words themselves.

❝Beauty is an accident, Valerie. It fades. A poem’s worth is in its truth — even if the words cut. I have no desire to be beautiful. I would rather be… unforgettable.❞

Goro tilts his head slightly, optics narrowing with a trace of wry amusement.

❝But if you see poetry in me, then perhaps you are the one writing it...❞ / @thedravanianhorde

[stcclcdhonor]

got sick and took a little breather... but expect some harassment tomorrow 😈

[stcclcdhonor]

The sound of his name leaving his tenshi's lips was enough to tell him he was doing everything right. And of course he was. The samurai exalted every beneficial mod within him to do so, that low glow of amber a reminder that she was under his power until he said otherwise.

With every moan, whine and groan choked back, Takemura redoubled his efforts, his own RealSkinn heating to match the thermal temperature which radiated from within her. His optics remained glued to her expression of bliss, yet another subtle bio scan to watch how her levels sky-rocketed in her euphoria. The soft suction of his mouth, precise flicker of his tongue, and coaxing of his fingers edged her; moving to find that perfect rhythm.

Her body was like his very own katana ― in that he would learn how to handle and wield her with care and fidelity. Goro leaned against her, fingers continuing their hold on her hiked leg as to keep her split for him til he felt that sudden grip upon the tech lining his fingers. At the cue of her body, he pushed further, fingers curling and haptic pads caressing within the tight channel of her mitsutsubo ― allowing her to ride out her intense orgasm.

Black and white tendrils of his hair fell messily from his bun, decorating in front of the devils eyes below her ― a result of the tightening of her small hand buried in her own desire. As her glossy eyes met his, he finally parted ― but not before he extended his tongue to purposely clean up every last drop of her orgasm. Her pheromones which laced his facial hair and drew into his lungs with every breath ― was enough to crack the resolve he so desperately tried to hold onto ― for her. For the sake of duty. A duty to pleasure the woman who risked her life for him.

But yet; as those desperate words left her lips, he felt the most subtle flutter in the depths of his cybernetics, every nerve burning with arousal. It was with her permission did he finally meet her again, wasting no time to slide up her body and capture her wanting lips beneath the guiding of her soft hand on the ragged edge of his jaw.

Rough palms relaxed against her thighs, fingers indenting into silk, feeling the steel of her muscles as his lips mapped out hers; mouth parting to dart his tongue within her warmth ― allowing her to taste her own bliss. He hummed against her, an expression of his need that resonated from his chest, almost sounding like a growl. With a breath, he parted only slightly to mumble, ❝悪い女.❞ (wicked woman.)

A smirk pulled at the corner of his lips, a tease to her needy hands. He stood now, parting from her touch whether she wanted him to or not. As he stood up straight his hands rose, meeting his bun. With a simple motion he pulled the tie from his hair, allowing the salt and pepper to fall onto shoulders.

Without missing a beat, Takemura’s fingers now moved with measured precision to meet the buttons of his shirt. Each flick of the buttons on white slid the fabric free with a deliberate click. The crisp fabric softened as it loosened, revealing the plane of his chest — muscle carved by decades of discipline, layered with the faint sheen of steel reinforcement beneath RealSkinn. The lines of his pectorals carried shallow indents where armored cyberware met flesh, subtle beneath the warm tone but undeniable under the right light. The deep black ink of tattoos wound along his ribs and shoulder, traditional irezumi patterns, their edges interrupted by fine, surgical scars where dermal plating had been fused to muscle.

He shrugged the shirt from his shoulders, the movement pulling faintly at the old scar running diagonally across his left clavicle, connected to the edge of his wired throat. His hands, callused but steady, moved to his buckle — a muted metallic click breaking the low hum of the room. The strap loosened, revealing the sharp taper of his waist, the lines of his abdomen flexing beneath skin and synthetic weave. Every movement spoke of restraint and control, each gesture precise as though undressing were a ritual in itself.

His eyes remained tied with hers with an intensity that told her of what was to come. Finally, his thumbs slid beneath the synth of his pants and underwear, a slow and calculated motion to slide them down over his hips, lower ― until his erection sprung free ― fully organic and yet hard enough to be steel itself. A soft, neatly trimmed patch of dark hair decorated the skin above his erection; the head of his shaft glistening with precum that expressed utter desire. He was thick, and much bigger than his tight-pants portrayed.

Taking a step to hover over her on the couch, his hand extended for her chin, thumb and forefinger lifting her eyes to meet his again. A man that promised to give her a night she would never forget. And hopefully many more.

❝I will give you an endless night of pleasure, tenshi, if you allow me,❞ the words were deep, gravelly. And yet they were spoken with promise. The ex-Arasaka's combat-grade cyberware demanded it so; his endurance and stamina everlasting in the heat of intimacy. Even after his first orgasm ― which he felt wouldn't take long.

The samurai lifted a knee, placing it between her thighs, indenting the cushion of the couch with his weight. He leaned down, hands meeting her hips to pull her closer to him. ❝Let us get this dress off you. You are burning up...❞

Her small defiance against him, for what it was worth, did not go as planned. For once, Eris was given a glimpse into the realm of what it was like to be utterly powerless. Well, she could have reprimanded him. If she really wanted to, it came down to want. Desire was slipping through her tough exterior to show the beginnings of submission. Or so it seemed for the time being.

Her leg being hiked under his weight, relentless love from his lips unto her mound made Eris part her lips, gasp sharply, and finally let out a proper moan of pleasure. Her throat locked as she realized just how loud she might have been there, tongue pressed against the roof of her mouth as she swallowed back the need for another vocal cue against his skill.

That in itself was the other thing. While Eris had only been with very few partners, she was not used to being prioritized. Touched, felt, and handled just right. It almost infuriated Eris how easily Takemura rendered her nearly drowned in euphoria. The desire to make it last was the only reason she didn't give in just yet.

A moment to pause, everything teetering on the edge, which made Eris stiffen as if on command to be still. Eyes on his own, glazed with want and need. Suddenly, the dress she wore felt awful annoying against her skin as her entire form was flush with heat. Which worsened when his finger slid between her folds, slick with that very same desire made physical.

Eris tried her utmost to hide the obvious fact that it had been too long for her; she tried, but just one finger was enough to make her eyes become lost in their gaze, dark, thick lashes fluttering before she regained herself to focus again, breath shaken, and then a very audible whimper...

"Goro.~"

Every finger movement earned him a soft moan between softer breath, blushing further from feelings of chasing her impending orgasm, and guilt. Guilt because she almost felt bad for doing nothing. Yet. Eris was a woman who always gave, and gave. For the first time, she really wanted to give Takemura the same feelings she felt now. Tenfold, hopefully.

Eris's right hand, without much thought, found firm and gentle enough purchase in his hair, careful not to tear away it's tied up state too much now.

She became undone, leaning her head back, spine arching to accentuate her breasts upwards, legs wishing to close in on themselves with no luck.

Eris inhaled deeply, her walls tightening around his fingers to keep them within her, lips agape to exhale a moan that was sweetly laced with her climax. She held on to it as long as she could, which in turn made the rush of electric pleasure last that much longer throughout the entirety of her being. Goro would certainly feel it in intense waves.

Eris had to steel herself, the hand in Takemura's hair easing on the grip, legs and body relaxing slowly as sweet nothing's nearly silent fell on every breath of swift recovery. And it was very swift.

Still high on her orgasm, Eris made eye contact with him, fingers leaving his lovely hair to find his jaw, coaxing him to look up at her. "Come here." Even her most endearing commands were spoken so softly, making it difficult to imagine her ever being strict or firm.

"Please." How often had she ever said that? Certainly not intimately. "Now." A correction, maybe. Or, eagerness. She wished to not only taste herself on his lips, but to share in a heated exchange post-climax, as those fleeting moments were her most favored.

[stcclcdhonor]

Takemura had been in Night City long enough to know when to follow the sound of gunfire — and when not to.

But this was different.

It wasn’t the staccato rhythm of corporate security or the sloppy panic of gangoons spraying wildly. This… was precision. Controlled bursts of destruction, each one followed by screams that were cut short.

The samurai had shadowed the alley’s edge, boots silent against the wet concrete, letting the chaos play out.

From the darkness between two busted vending machines, he watched the boy — at least, he looked like a boy — standing amidst a red-slick ruin. Limbs torn, bodies split open in ways even a Militech smartgun wouldn’t produce.

The hissing caught Takemura’s ear. Shoulder vents. Steam curling from the sleeves. Droplets of water spattering onto the ground, mingling with the blood. Chrome. Not installed by choice. Too crude, too dangerous for a child.

Goro stepped into the thin slice of neon that broke across the street, letting the boy see him. His hands were at his sides — empty, but never far from his tanto. The boy's words had not fallen on deaf ears ― yet through his boorish attitude, Takemura chose to ignore it. After all, this boy was clearly exhausted, silver optics narrowing to analyze the tremor in his knees. His thermal ratings were the highest he had ever seen in an individual ― let alone a child.

❝Enough,❞ the samurai spoke, his voice deep and deliberate, like a weight settling on the moment. A tone which cut through the chaos with the weight of someone used to being obeyed. ❝You have killed enough for today, kodomo.❞ (child.)

His eyes continued to scan, taking in every detail without rushing —those trembling legs, the uneven breathing, the frantic way the boy’s gaze searched for an exit. He knew that look. Someone running on the last drops of adrenaline, too close to collapse.

❝You stay here, the NCPD will kill you. Militech will do worse. They will not ask your name, and they will not care for your reasons.❞ He tilted his head slightly, studying him.

❝Whoever you are… this street will be your grave if you do not move now.❞ A directive, Takemura taking a measured step forward, stopping just shy of the blood’s edge, his tone neither pleading nor threatening — simply certain.

❝You may point your weapons at me if you wish. But if you wish to live, you will follow.❞ His stance made it clear — he didn’t know the boy, didn’t know the full story, but he’d seen enough to know what came next if they stayed. And he was prepared to move.

After a brief moment and a scrunch of the samurai's nose, he didn’t wait for the boy to answer.

Sirens were already echoing faintly down the wet canyon of the street — three tones overlapping, the kind the NCPD used when they wanted the whole block to know a perimeter was coming down.

❝Move,❞ he ordered, voice dropping into something sharper, meant to cut through panic.

With a swift motion Takemura rushed forward, his hand taking the boy's forearm as he took the lead without looking back. His RealSkinn burned against a callused palm, and yet that didn't stop the man from proceeding with the boys arm in hand. He stepped over the slicks of blood and steam. The smell of copper and burnt chrome hung in the air, now clinging to his coat.

Behind them, the neon glare began to sharpen into the cold strobe of police lights reflecting off the walls. The faint hiss of rotor drones were getting louder.

Goro ducked into a narrow service corridor between two crumbling buildings, nearly dragging the child along, a place most civilians wouldn’t even glance at. The walls were so tight his coat brushed both sides as he moved.

❝You know this city?❞ he asked over his shoulder, his tone still unreadable. ❝Or have you only known cages?❞

A distant amplified voice barked orders in the main street. The boy’s silence — or perhaps his ragged breathing — was answer enough.

He pulled him along, emerging into a small loading bay behind a shuttered pachinko parlor as Goro proceeded. He scanned the rooftop edges and alley mouths, optics always moving, always calculating. He motioned toward a set of metal stairs leading upward.

❝Up. Keep low. Do not argue.❞

@stcclcdhonor

Sweat seemed to pulsate at the sides of his head. Thick, beads of hydration that was hot to the touch. His mind was racing with adrenaline that pumped through his core and through his chrome. Chrome... it's such an odd word for a 12 year old to use. Then again, he's spent the last few months having to fight for his life against Militech's illegal trafficking market for test subjects to make weapons out of. Drake was one of these 'products'.

Three goddamn years of being in and out of facilities. Three goddamn years of being treated LESSER than human. Three years of having to bide his time... finding the right moment to escape. Having to fall into the shadows of the crowd around him. The only thing noticeable about him? Is those vented shoulders and hands covered in dotted yet sizeable tips of jet streams connected to his arm.

The only reason why his arms and shoulders had vents was to adjust the temperature to avoid getting himself cooked alive by the heat and for his arms to not fall off from the tubes inside of him adjusting the waters size. He didn't know jack shit about ripperdocs or how chrome worked. Everything was forced onto him. Drake's legs seemed to buckle and tremble. Murder was not on his mind today.

The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself. They found him regardless. With the right money, (or the rather intimidation ) anyone could be found. Drake included on this list of suspects that apparently he 'robbed' from Militech. And now? He's in the shitter. The only saving grace that he's been given is that Militech was cocky enough to think that all they had to do was send canon fodder for Drake to be captured by. Muscular men and armed guns did wonders for the normal person.

Not him. Not when he had NOTHING LEFT TO LOSE. Drake's vents hissing lightly through the fabrics of his shirt and sleeves. Droplets of condensation seemed to fall onto the ground. Blood pooling at the ground around him. Limbs and internal bits seemed to be exposed releasing a gastly and vomit inducing smell. They were torn apart by the pure razor edge pressure blasters of his water vents.

He's not faster than a bullet, but he wasn't going to give them reason to start loading onto him. Ask questions later. His legs stumbled forward. His blood pressure shaky as all hell with the adrenaline rush seeming to simmer down bit by little bit. His eyes catch of a man who had stood in the way of him. His glaring eyes stern and yet... held one of stoicism. A look Drake seemed to already hate.

"Th'fuck you want? You wanna end up like em'?!" His breath purely uneven. Breath staggered to find a rhythm. If he didn't compose himself he'd just buckle onto the ground in a pitiful heap. Drake had to get away from this scene. NCPD would be here any moment and the last thing Drake needed is to answer questions. DRK-3 is nothing more than a weapon. One to kill people. They got what they deserved in his mind. He would NEVER go back to that damned place. He would NEVER let another adult step over him again.

[stcclcdhonor]

what if viktor blog — what then huh???

[stcclcdhonor]

[stcclcdhonor]

An intense gaze lingered on her, amber flicker in his eyes dimming to a steady glow as he continued his ministrations; savoring the taste of her on his tongue. Her words, every moan and whine he elicited from her — was all for him. Small victories they were — every one of them. The push against his shoulder now, the sight of her flushed cheeks — it stirred something deep and unruly within him. Duty and discipline had been his armor for decades, yet now they felt like fragile paper before a flame. Eris — the fire that unknowingly burned within him.

Her heel still pressed into him, not forceful enough to be a rejection — more a provocation, and still the samurai did not relent. Instead, he redoubled his efforts, tongue swirling over her swollen bud with precision and his mouth suctioning with a warmth both urgent and calculated. Perfect.

As he felt her struggle and writhe beneath him, he knew she was close, the twitching of her slick folds and clit betraying the words that slipped past plush lips — her body needed it, and who was he to deny her flesh? Whether man-made or not. His left hand slid down to meet the underside of her right thigh, fingers indenting til they felt steel beneath silk, and with a movement that expressed his advanced motor cortex, he pushed her leg up, in turn knocking the heel from his shoulder.

He held her leg up, hand unyielding as he now shifted his body to lean against it, keeping her spread for him. Only then did he break contact, mouth parting from her sweet nectar with an audible pop, a kiss from his lips to her soft pink following with the same eye contact. Slowly, deliberately, his free hand slid along the curve of her left thigh, fingers tracing the line of muscle with the precision of a man who knew anatomy not only as a warrior but as a craftsman of control. The haptic pads of his touch was warm, steady, his cybernetic nerves translating sensation to an almost painful clarity.

Takemura hummed, a deep sound of approval resonating from the depths of his chest, optics reading the thermal levels of her heated body as they trailed down to get a closer look at her — observing the way her juices glistened the pristine, sensitive flesh of a woman clearly organic. He swallowed the taste of her, his fingers which lingered now caressing the crease of where her core met her thigh. ❝まだ,❞ (still.) The simple word left him as direction — tone leaving no room for argument. ❝It is brave of you to assume I will be stopping at one — tenshi,❞ the term of endearment left his lips in a whisper — angel. Exactly what she looked like right there beneath him.

In a tantalizing motion his middle and ring finger met her clit now, touching lightly to feel the twitch of her nerves. Only then did he slowly run his fingers down her slit, coating his pads in her arousal — which he could smell on his own breath. Intoxicating.

❝You will have your turn,❞ he continued, quietly, ❝but only when I decide the moment is yours.❞ It was a statement, one he meant as the samurai within him took his duty very seriously. And right now? That duty was pleasuring her.

As his fingers stopped at the entrance of her mitsutsubo, his wrist turned outward, ring finger closing to his palm to allow a single finger to slowly enter her. Takemura started with his middle finger, sliding into her heat with care, his own breath catching in the cybernetics of his throat as her warmth enveloped his finger the deeper he went. Each RealSkinn covered steel of his knuckles registered the organic texture of her insides.

Enough to make his growing erection ache painfully as it strained against the high-density synth of his pants. His neurochemical arousal responses heightened through the tactile senses.

Though he maintained his composure, his glossy eyes now flickered back up to her flushing face, crimson decorated porcelain. A beautiful sight. Slowly, his finger moved, pumping it in and out of her with a pace gentle — allowing the tightness of her muscles to relax.

Goro leaned in close to place a kiss on her soft vulva, ❝リラックス,❞ (relax.) He murmured against her, warm mouth trailing to meet her clit again, deliberately now adding his second finger to stretch her around him, fingers curving to find that rigid — sweet spot within her.

He placed yet another kiss upon her swollen bud, the neural-linked actuators to fingers now coming into play, his motion ever-so-slightly picking up with determination, wrist flicking and fingers skillfully thrusting within her, registering each tremor of her body — mapping out her pleasure.

❝私のために兼,❞ (come for me,) a murmured command as his lips parted to tease her clit with his tongue.

The slightest jolt upon contact, the Militech reinforced musculature in her legs tightening as they naturally wanted to close in on themselves, but were unable. Eris severely underestimated the fervor she would feel, and she underestimated Takemura. He knew what he was doing and felt rather foolish for thinking she was above the situation. Mere seconds, and she was unbuckling.

But that would be corrected, subtly, as she closed her lips to swallow hard, her eye contact brief before she tilted her head back, legs moving inward to gently surround him with her thighs. That quickened pace of his tongue sent one of her hands back to hold onto the couch behind her, parting her wet lips after licking them to let out her first good and proper moan. Not too loudly, not too quiet. Smooth and sensual.

Another jump, though just her right leg. Had it been so long since she's felt pleasure? Likely so. Because Eris was finding it difficult to keep herself together and properly draw out this lovely ritual. A breath to capture her control, the squeezing hand on the couch replacing, her other hands, running down her thigh slowly, only to turn her palm toward his visage, fingers delicate and meaningfully sliding down his skin before she traveled said hand up her torso.

She groped her right breast over her dress, which drew out a pleasant enough whine.

"Ah~" A tiny yelp, Eris furrowed her brows in a soft knot that lasted only a second before replacing her expression and rolling her head forward once more. Mistake... Because watching Takemura taste her only made that growing, tightening warmth in her abdomen heighten in strength.

Her petals became slick with nectar as a result, well and truly beginning to blossom for him. "Mh- I-" A moment to roll her eyes into a closed state, lips parted more to gasp, which was followed by a lustful but tender moan. She had to take a moment to focus, enable her control, or she'd meet her height in pleasure too early. Not what she wanted.

"Not like this- Please~" A precursor to a request again, even if she understood when he said he wouldn't stop, she hoped her little humble plea would work in her favor. Takemura would feel her clit convulse, body stiff under his touch, slightly bending in ways that spoke volumes of the pleasure she was feeling. "I want to feel you."

She swallowed hard again, her eyes pleasing, cheeks the slightest bit flushed in pink, which was rare to accomplish with her. While yes, Eris knew she could chase one orgasm after the other, she also wanted this first one to be clenched around him, for him, because of him. She wanted him to really feel that.

Eris exhaled softly, his name left her lips within that breath, lifting her hips off the couch just a little.

Takemura not letting up was sending Eris arife with desire, the need to want more, explore more, be handles and bent in ways she hadn't been, now coming to the surface. Her breath quickened to a shaken, sharp breath, bending her right leg a little farther back, and while smirking amidst a lip bite, the outsole of her heel pressed against his shoulder in an attempt to push him off. She wanted to have her way.

Eris desired her turn; she wanted to taste him.

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telling my brain i want threads to progress and it can't happen if it doesn't WORDS — SHEKEHEEIEBEEK

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Mood

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the song that plays in takemura's head when he sees v — before he realizes they like johnny more than him... ):<

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start of a new week — so unfortunately that means slow replies and some inactivity due to a busy work schedule. rip.

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🌸🤍🩶🖤🌸

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The samurai's grip on her tightened — not rough, but with the kind of certainty that came from decades of knowing exactly how much force to apply, when to yield and when to hold.

Her words lingered in his mind — ‘part of your duty’ — a dangerous temptation wrapped in a softness he had not felt in far too long. If ever.

Duty was rigid, unbending. Desire was molten, hungry. And right now, her presence was blurring those lines in ways that tested the very steel in his spine.

When she coaxed him to look at her, he lifted his head, gaze meeting hers without wavering. Those glazed eyes, the control she still held despite the heat between them — it made something primal stir within him. The faint scent of her skin, the subtle shift of her breath, the way her dress slid against his hands as his rough palms glided up, silk over steel — all of it seared into him.

Her request was silent but clear. A directive he intended to abide — and well. He readjusted, settling on his knees and sitting back on his heels — the perfect seiza position for a ritual worth honoring. Large hands lifted her legs, fingers indenting into plush RealSkinn that could have him easily fooled as being organic.

He explored, tactile sensors embedded in hands memorizing every inch of her — every subtle reaction as he guiding her legs onto his shoulders with the precision of a soldier handling a weapon — careful, deliberate, and with an understanding of exactly what it could do. His hands moved up from thighs to hips, thumbs pressing into the soft planes there, grounding them both in the contact.

The sight of the blade and the practiced ease with which she wielded it drew the faintest smirk from him, his eyes locking to hers — watching, assessing, savoring. When the panties gave way under the edge of the knife, the quiet snap of fabric seemed louder than it had any right to be in the still air between them.

Takemure did not rush. Instead, he lowered his head slightly, lips brushing the inside of her thigh in a touch that was as much claim as it was a tease. His voice followed, low and deliberate, gravelly with the faintest growl curling through the syllables.

❝あなたはどんな刃よりも巧みに私を武装解除します.❞ (You disarm me more skillfully than any blade.)

For a heartbeat, his hands gripped her harder, betraying the strain of his own control. Then, one palm slid upward, fingers brushing over the exposed skin of her lower back, drawing her closer until the space between them was nonexistent. His mouth hovered, not yet giving what she might expect ― instead letting the tension grow.

❝Once I start, I do not stop.❞ he murmured, eyes still fixed on hers, ❝I never leave a meal unfinished.❞ With those last words a soft ― discreet flicker of amber crossed his optics. A subtle bio scan from high-grade Arasaka optics, counting the beats of her heart and heat radiating from flesh and cyberware.

Those same eyes then darted downward to take in the sight of her ― organic and weeping for him, a sight begging for the release he would soon grant with great delight. Without waiting a fraction longer, he closed the gap, lips parting to meet her clit and tongue darting out to taste her. An immediate rumble from his chest escaped him, savoring the natural taste of her; a taste that bested even the finest of Japanese dishes.

The samurai's wet, warm tongue flattened a moment, gliding down to lap up all of her juices before he pushed her further. Suddenly his opticals met hers again, this time that flicker of amber returning like a devil who just permission to ravage the earth. And she ― was his earth. Goro's MCI triggered, his eyes remaining on hers with an expression to show her ― this battle she would not win.

His lips sucked, tongue flicked and moved with fine precision, speeding up ever so slightly to feel her throb underneath; his opposite hand from her back now slid up her inner thigh, holding her thighs apart along with the weight of his body.

Eris ― was not going anywhere.

Eris felt her heart quicken beneath her Kevlar plating, a feeling she chased as often as she could. Having had her heart rate decreased by 10% meant she almost craved the feeling of adrenaline and every form of excitement. The feeling... It was a pleasure for her. Not always the intimate kind, but it felt euphoric enough to grow addicted to the prospect of inducing adrenaline. This moment, here and now, brought forth a different level altogether.

She had to still exhibit a sense of control, however. Takemura was the kind of man Eris was simply not used to. Her ways of fiery hastiness would not do here. Not at all. But she was fine with that. Especially when she felt lighter than a feather in his grasp, biting one side of her bottom lip.

It was a surprise, really. Eris normally made it a point to please her partner in tandem with her own satisfactions, to give them whatever they desired and more. Even if it was just as simple as eye candy. This seemingly selfless act on Goro's part... Out of the norm for Eris. But, she would still play her way.

"... And if I aim to be a part of your duty?" A gentle proposal, a side of her, normally hidden away, peeking through. Eris knew it was far more complex than that. But she was a hopeless romantic in a world where romanticism hardly existed. Underneath her exterior was a genuine yearning.

Her focus stripped, a breath leaving her subtly parted lips when his hands graced the curvature of her thighs. Pale as untouched snow, warm to the touch.

"Don't hold back." An answer to his request, and a request of her own. Eris halved her eyes, breath inhaled through her nose to hold it while he began to give her neck subtle attention. One of her most sensitive places, as the intricate wiring was immense along her neck underneath the RealSkinn. Quick to cause a spike in her synapses in the form of the beginning stages of true arousal.

Pleasure, and the feelings of such, has a strange side effect on Eris's cyberware as a whole. Naturally, neither Militech nor Cynosure put much thought into her womanly attributes, keeping her the same as she had matured into. Working around her shapes by mimicking them into her cyberware and plating.

The places left untouched, her nether regions, had been all that was left organically. The connection from synthetic wires to what was left of her organic nerves meant pleasure hit her in waves tenfold more than normal. If she wasn't mindful to control herself, Eris would be meeting an orgasm before he would so much as touch where it counted.

So, another soft breath, her hands finding either side of his face softly, coaxing Takemura to look at the state of her already glazed eyes. Her thumbs gently sliding over the edge of his cheeks.

After one gentle, small kiss, her hands added some pressure to their touch, and a push downward, adjusting the position of her legs to silently ask that he take them onto his shoulders. Naturally, as a result, her bodycon dress of black velvet slid up her hips at such an angle, revealing a strap around her right thigh that holstered a Militech grade knife. Eris smirked a little, unbuckling it from her, taking the knife, and situating it just right to hook her equally black panties against the edge of its serrated blade.

Without breaking eye contact, she slid the blade up just barely, and that was enough to break that little piece of garb at the strap near her hip, loosening them. It was a replaceable object she cared not for. As for her knife, she let it stand upright on the couch as she stabbed the leather cushion to make it so.

"You have more than just my blessing."