Shippo and the Ribbon
folder
InuYasha › Het - Male/Female › InuYasha/Kagome
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,372
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
InuYasha › Het - Male/Female › InuYasha/Kagome
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,372
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.
Shippo and the Ribbon
© Salome Wilde, 2008
Author’s Note: This oneshot was written for (and won no prizes whatsoever at) the InuKags LJ community firsttweak. The prompt was “ribbon” and...well...all I could think of was how when a guy jerks off...it sometimes kinda...spirals out like a...ahem...beauuuuuuuuuuutiful ribbon. *ridiculous wolfy grin* (My only InuKag fic to date!)
Shippo and the Ribbons
Why the hell can Inuyasha not keep a secret? I mean, heaven knows I love the insatiable, impetuous mutt, and everyone’s going to find out sooner or later, but come on. We’ve worked hard to keep up the innocent routine. We’re actually really good at the fake-out. We do just-friends, comrades-in-shard-hunting, bickering siblings, even jealous almost-boyfriend/girlfriend. The fighting stuff we really like, actually. Just like Miroku enjoys that slap on the face, Inuyasha and I enjoy our arguments, retreating to separate corners and glaring at each other across the campsite, and all those “sit” commands so I can go lick his bruises later in secret. I do wonder if the pleasure will be as good once everyone knows we’ve been getting it on for the better part of six months, but I’ll enjoy the shocked disgust they’ll all show us before they wish us all the happiness in the world. Which we deserve, of course. Especially after all the Kikyo crap I’ve put up with.
I’d never have predicted it’d be Shippo who’d signal the end of the era, though. I mean, it’s Inuyasha’s fault for talking to Miroku about stuff loud enough for the kitsune to hear. And we’re all guilty of talking too much and too loudly in front of Shippo. He’s so cute and cuddly with that squeaky voice that it’s easy to forget he’s older than me in actual life-on-the-planet years. Not to mention, of course, that being “raised” by a teenage girl from the future, a perverted monk, a demon slayer with guilt issues and a mean right hook, a half-demon with no patience for kids, and a nekomata brings its own set of complications to an orphan kid’s life.
Anyhow, this morning, while everyone else was out chasing saimyosho, out of nowhere, he asks, “Can I see the ribbons Inuyasha gave you?”
I say, “Ribbons? What ribbons?” having no clue what he’s talking about but also kind of getting excited thinking that maybe Inuyasha’s got a present for me. I know he gets up to all kinds of stuff when he comes down the well after me, but shopping and gift-giving aren’t really his thing—unless you consider tit-hickeys “gifts.”
Shippo, face lit up with little-kid-knows-a-secret eyes, says, “But I heard Inuyasha telling Miroku about how he’d covered your back with ribbons last night and how much you liked it…”
Well, my whole face burns cherry-red as I flash to last night: me up against a tree, bent over at the waist, wearing only my thong with “Friday” embroidered on it, and Inuyasha behind, pumping his fingers into me with deliciously demonic speed and jerking himself with his other hand while talking about what he’s about to do and calling me every dirty, delicious name in the book, until he lets go all over my lower back. I feel the hot ribbons of his cum cover me, and I know how he just loves to watch it spurt out then lick it up like the beautiful, wild dog he is.
I clear my throat. And lie. “Oh, yeah, those ribbons. They were…uh…magic happiness ribbons.”
Shippo’s eyes get even bigger, if that’s possible, and he repeats what I just said in an awed whisper: “Magic happiness ribbons?”
“Yeah, you give them to someone…and it makes you feel so good it’s…like magic…”
“Do you think Inuyasha can give me some?”
“Uh, no, I don’t think that’d be such a great idea.” He looks like he’s going to cry, so I keep talking, sticking my foot further down my throat with every word. “I’m sure someone will give you magic happiness ribbons someday, Shippo.” I stop. What I’m actually saying hits me, and it takes all my self-control not to laugh. This is insane, and I suddenly find new respect for my mother.
I pick up the little kitsune and hold him in my arms. “How about if we go have some ramen, just you and me? We won’t even tell Inuyasha.”
“Really?” he beams. “Just you and me?”
“You bet, kiddo,” I say, ruffling his hair, knowing that tonight “Spank the Hanyo” is not going to be just a game.
Author’s Note: This oneshot was written for (and won no prizes whatsoever at) the InuKags LJ community firsttweak. The prompt was “ribbon” and...well...all I could think of was how when a guy jerks off...it sometimes kinda...spirals out like a...ahem...beauuuuuuuuuuutiful ribbon. *ridiculous wolfy grin* (My only InuKag fic to date!)
Why the hell can Inuyasha not keep a secret? I mean, heaven knows I love the insatiable, impetuous mutt, and everyone’s going to find out sooner or later, but come on. We’ve worked hard to keep up the innocent routine. We’re actually really good at the fake-out. We do just-friends, comrades-in-shard-hunting, bickering siblings, even jealous almost-boyfriend/girlfriend. The fighting stuff we really like, actually. Just like Miroku enjoys that slap on the face, Inuyasha and I enjoy our arguments, retreating to separate corners and glaring at each other across the campsite, and all those “sit” commands so I can go lick his bruises later in secret. I do wonder if the pleasure will be as good once everyone knows we’ve been getting it on for the better part of six months, but I’ll enjoy the shocked disgust they’ll all show us before they wish us all the happiness in the world. Which we deserve, of course. Especially after all the Kikyo crap I’ve put up with.
I’d never have predicted it’d be Shippo who’d signal the end of the era, though. I mean, it’s Inuyasha’s fault for talking to Miroku about stuff loud enough for the kitsune to hear. And we’re all guilty of talking too much and too loudly in front of Shippo. He’s so cute and cuddly with that squeaky voice that it’s easy to forget he’s older than me in actual life-on-the-planet years. Not to mention, of course, that being “raised” by a teenage girl from the future, a perverted monk, a demon slayer with guilt issues and a mean right hook, a half-demon with no patience for kids, and a nekomata brings its own set of complications to an orphan kid’s life.
Anyhow, this morning, while everyone else was out chasing saimyosho, out of nowhere, he asks, “Can I see the ribbons Inuyasha gave you?”
I say, “Ribbons? What ribbons?” having no clue what he’s talking about but also kind of getting excited thinking that maybe Inuyasha’s got a present for me. I know he gets up to all kinds of stuff when he comes down the well after me, but shopping and gift-giving aren’t really his thing—unless you consider tit-hickeys “gifts.”
Shippo, face lit up with little-kid-knows-a-secret eyes, says, “But I heard Inuyasha telling Miroku about how he’d covered your back with ribbons last night and how much you liked it…”
Well, my whole face burns cherry-red as I flash to last night: me up against a tree, bent over at the waist, wearing only my thong with “Friday” embroidered on it, and Inuyasha behind, pumping his fingers into me with deliciously demonic speed and jerking himself with his other hand while talking about what he’s about to do and calling me every dirty, delicious name in the book, until he lets go all over my lower back. I feel the hot ribbons of his cum cover me, and I know how he just loves to watch it spurt out then lick it up like the beautiful, wild dog he is.
I clear my throat. And lie. “Oh, yeah, those ribbons. They were…uh…magic happiness ribbons.”
Shippo’s eyes get even bigger, if that’s possible, and he repeats what I just said in an awed whisper: “Magic happiness ribbons?”
“Yeah, you give them to someone…and it makes you feel so good it’s…like magic…”
“Do you think Inuyasha can give me some?”
“Uh, no, I don’t think that’d be such a great idea.” He looks like he’s going to cry, so I keep talking, sticking my foot further down my throat with every word. “I’m sure someone will give you magic happiness ribbons someday, Shippo.” I stop. What I’m actually saying hits me, and it takes all my self-control not to laugh. This is insane, and I suddenly find new respect for my mother.
I pick up the little kitsune and hold him in my arms. “How about if we go have some ramen, just you and me? We won’t even tell Inuyasha.”
“Really?” he beams. “Just you and me?”
“You bet, kiddo,” I say, ruffling his hair, knowing that tonight “Spank the Hanyo” is not going to be just a game.