#she wants to be a thing with teeth and utterly unbearable

[beloveds-embrace]

(elys anon)

Ik this is probably unrealistic but I'm imagining that some of the fae in court and the staff got a crush on the WONDEROUS miss duchess bc if why prey shaped why does she have those distracting assets, it's not even a pervy way me thinks most of fae are used to sharp edges and cruel smiles but the duchess no matter how hard she hides it is soft, she has a round and soft plush body that bounces in the very right places iykwim and GODDAMMIT those idiot king and his husband's don't just see what a beauty landed in their hands??!??????? Unacceptable truly (no I am not projecting to the aforementioned fae folk no I'm not wdym)

the longer i wrote this, the more it escaped me 😭 this is a softer, happier approach in general, so it’s not totally “canon” compliant to the fae au || masterlist

It began, as all dangerous fascinations do in the fae court, not with a spell or a spectacle, but with a glance.

A too-long, too-still glance.

One of the green-moss Ladies who worked often in the the western wing- nose always in the air, tongue always sharper than sense- was the first to nearly walk into a marble pillar during a meeting because she’d been watching you descend the steps to the throne.

You hadn’t even done anything. Simply walked. But the fabric of your gown had clung and swayed in just the right way, the stitching pulled ever so slightly across the softness of your hips, your bodice gently curved from the press of plush breasts, your arms round and warm where fae tended toward the sharp and sinewy. Even your hands, gloved in dark lace and shiny steel, looked gentle. Prey-shaped.

“Ridiculous,” she muttered later, nose red from the bump, elongated ears still pink. “Completely inappropriate. Distracting. Utterly- unacceptable.”

And yet the looks didn’t stop.

They’d grown up among creatures who wore their cruelty like pearls. Beauty in the fae realm was meant to be honed like a blade- razor-edged cheekbones, teeth like opals, bodies willowy and cold and pulled taut by ancient glamours. There was a particular kind of aesthetic expected of queens: cold-fire lips, bone-thin limbs, voices like thorns against silk. Certainly, the Queen Mother embodied such beauty.

And then there was you.

Oh, you could wield thorns- no one denied that. But you were still so unbearably, unfairly soft inspite of everything the Queen Mother ordered for you to be dressed in. You had hips that swayed like music and a stomach that curved just enough to tempt wonder. The soft pudge of your thighs peeked from split skirts like promises. Your collarbone rose and fell with breath, and not even your fae-trained posture could hide the bounce in your step or the plush sway of your figure when you moved.

The palace staff, at the very least those who didn’t hate you on principle, were worse than the courtiers. They adored you, especially those who directly served you long enough for their opinions of you to shift and change. Those who were brought in by Johnny specifically after they’d noticed your old servants skimping on taking care of you also fit right in.

“She’s like something out of a mortal dream,” one of the castle maids whispered and giggled, half-swooning into a pile of enchanted laundry. “Have you seen the way she fills that midnight velvet?”

“She smiled at me once,” one of the palace guards at the east tower confessed. “Nearly dropped my blade. I didn’t even want to blink.”

The tailors added tiny hearts into the hems of your gowns, in silvers and purples and dark reds so the Queen Mother would not glower at and fire them. The flower-couriers argued weekly over who got to deliver arrangements to your quarters- just for the chance to catch a glimpse of your bare arms, your soft eyes, your gentle way of saying “thank you” like it meant something.

And through it all, your husbands remained so stupidly, criminally unaware. Though of course, none would dare say such things outloud.

King John, with his brooding silences and wine-slick muttering. Advisor Simon, who glared too hard to ever look properly. Advisor Johnny, who got never remained long enough to notice. Advisor Kyle, who was too busy standing protectively near you to realize the one he was guarding.

Unacceptable. Truly.

But at least it meant the courtiers could take more and more liberties. Standing too close. Speaking too sweetly. Offering gifts that were a little too personal. There were whispers now in the moonrooms and crystal hall- about what a tragedy it was for something so radiant, so luscious, to be tethered to those oblivious king and advisors.

“They still see her as strategy,” someone murmured once in the bathhouse, where even the tiles eavesdropped. The soft smell of your soaps and oils was like a siren’s song. “Not as beauty.”

But it wasn’t just lust nor just the curve of your body or the warmth of your skin- it was the contradiction of you; a queen who ruled with a sharp tongue and wore gowns that hugged your soft belly. Who could summon thorns with a flick of your wrist but still cried at sad endings in mortal books. Who sat on a throne of obsidian with all the weight of crown and court pressing down- and still smiled kindly at the maid who spilled tea.

You were prey-shaped, yes. No one would ever deny that.

But you were beloved.

And eventually, much to the courtiers’ combined disappointment and relief, your husbands began to notice.

Not because of the murmurs (though they were (getting louder) or the offerings (those had become truly absurd- someone gifted you a custom-carved bathing pool shaped like a swan), and not even because someone visibly was attempting to become a lover of yours, kings and advisors be damned.

No.

It was because you’d started laughing more, smiling softer, and they weren’t the ones causing such changes.

And that- that made the boys very, very stupidly possessive.

But that’s a tale for another day (noona ran out of things to write).

[orphicsun]

MDNI, SEXUAL CONTENT BELOW

“This is such a stupid idea!!” You giggle, watching as Ellie grabs a piece of ice from the freezer.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. I promise.”

You sigh and she grins as you finally relent.

You find yourself completely naked on the bed as Ellie rubs warm hands over your body, palming your tits and then massaging your thighs. Finally, the piece of ice between her teeth comes into play.

“O-Oh, god..that’s cold, Els..” You gasp as the frigid feeling trails over your neck first before she traces over your collarbones with the small piece of ice. It feels so weird but somehow turns you on, every time you feel the almost unbearably cold cube of ice make contact with your skin, goosebumps visible on your arms and a trail of wetness visible wherever Ellie so pleases to leave it, much to her appreciative gaze. She cannot speak with the cube between her lips but her heavy breathing speaks for her.

Her mouth trails down from your collarbones to your chest, first teasing and elliciting gasps by stringing the melting cube along the skin of your sternum, slowly making her way to one of your nipples.

You don’t know how it is that this, just ice in her mouth, is affecting you so much. But it truly is. The sensation is freezing but wetness brands her path into your skin as your nipple hardens. With the cube slowly melting between her teeth, she has to hurry on her performance. Ellie smothers your other nipple with the ice, causing you to curse under your breath and squirm. Your body naturally wants to buck up and escape from the extreme sensation, but your pussy is telling you to take it, take more of what Ellie is offering.

Ellie holds your hips down so that she can finally get to her favorite part of her fantasy; you’re squirming and panting as the cube glides over your navel, leaving a slick trail of cold water over your hips before she finally spits the now mostly melted-down cube out of her mouth and face-first dives between your legs.

Your fingers quickly tangle into her hair as you immediately jolt at the sudden frosty feeling of her cold tongue lapping at your clit. Usually, she’d tease and circle around the bud until you beg for more, but your warm cunt prevents her mouth from staying cool enough to keep the sensation going for that long. She is able to eat you like she is starving, and it’s not far from how she really feels.

Every eager flick of her tongue makes you grind up into her mouth and though the feeling is almost unbearable, as if you’ve already cum multiple times, you need it. Ellie’s mouth is usually so hot against you, and it is such a turn-on; however, the contrast between her cool tongue and your sopping wet warmth sends tingles through your pussy so intense you’re worried about hurting her with how hard you involuntarily tug at her hair.

Even as the freezing sensation of her mouth fades, your orgasm is closer than ever before and washes over your body like a riptide washing over, it’s so violent and yet so addicting to feel. You don’t even feel the coldness anymore, but the aftermath of it all and just the memories of her circling over every inch of you with such a contrast in temperature makes it one of the most intense orgasms you’ve had with her.

Ellie lets you buck up into her mouth and ride out the high, licking up and saving your juices until it’s too much for you to handle, and then she finally (and reluctantly) pulls away from you. She looks up to see if you enjoyed her experiment and sees how blown your pupils are, your lips parted as you huff out short breaths, looking utterly wrecked.

“So…am I a genius or was that weird?”

“That was the hottest thing anyone has ever done to me.”

Ellie’s sheepish expression turns into pure pride, and she mentally reminds herself to do this again one day when you’re in need of a good distraction.

[headmasterseverussnape]

Severus Snape, a small 16-year-old boy— too underweight and petite for his age, stood in his small bathroom glaring into the mirror as he brushed his teeth. Faster and faster, harder and harder he brushed. Brushing until he felt a metallic taste in his mouth. His eyes were bloodshot, his cheeks sallowish and his gums were bleeding as his mind was wracked with thoughts and memories he wished would just go away. His reflection glared back at him, his own dark lifeless eyes staring into his very soul that had been tormented for all his ‘pitiful’ life.

Oh, it was just another day. Just another day of being harassed and bullied by those ‘perfect little heroes’ known as the Marauders. His tormentors. It was another day he lost himself to the unbearable anger and pain that resided in the back of his dark little mind. Another day of causing disappointment to the one person he cared about, Lily Evans. Just another day of being treated less than a person because of his blood and class status as well as the way he looked.

He continued to glare at himself in the mirror. He hated it. He hated himself. He hated his reflection. He hated his father who mercilessly beat him and his mother on bad days, which was most days. He hated the marauders who tormented and harassed him for no good reason. He hated the teachers and staff who ignored him for not being popular, rich or a pureblood. He hated how he could SEE his poverty, his weakness, his filth. It sickened him.

His reflection was proof of his tainted blood. It was proof he would never be like the ‘heroic’ James Potter whom everyone seemed to love. It was proof he would never have the humor of Sirius Black, whose jokes could make anyone laugh even if they were utterly terrible. It was proof he would never be like Remus Lupin who was a coward but seen as shy and likable guy. It was proof he would never be like Peter Pettigrew who was pathetic in a way that added to the credibility of his tormentors, that made it seem so utterly impossible they could ever do any wrong.

He knew. He knew Lily Evans was taking a liking to them. He could see it in her eyes. Every time she’d glance at Potter or smile at Black’s jokes. He knew he was slowly losing her to them. It was only a matter of time and he knew he could do nothing to stop it.

“Heh.. they’re right... I must be pathetic... I can’t even hold onto one person… the one person that cared for me…”

Blood dripped down from his lips as he spoke, going into the sink’s drain and disappearing. He watched through the mirror as his blood fell to the bottom of the sink. He chuckled, how pathetic did he have to be? The grip he had on his toothbrush tightened, as he went back to brushing. Harder and harder and harder. Trying to get the filth to disappear. The filth no one but himself could see.

He dropped the toothbrush, as the memories of his torment pervaded his mind. He looked down at the sink as he spat out more of his blood, watching it disappear down the dark drain. Oh, how he wished he could follow.

He quickly glanced up at the mirror once more, looking through his dark messy and greasy hair. He clenched his jaw tightly, anger clouding his judgment.

Slamming his fist into the thing, he broke it and watched as it shattered into pieces. His knuckles were now bloody and bruised but he didn’t care. He’s had worse, why would he care about something as trivial as this?

“Pathetic. You’re so *pathetic*. So- so *weak!* It’s utterly humiliating-! No wonder *she* wants to be with them rather than you! You deserve this. They know it, she knows it- Heh. Even *you* know it.”

He slammed his fist into the broken glass again, letting his knuckles get scratched up and bruised even more. It was nothing he couldn’t handle. Not after the beatings and bullying he went through. This was- this was practically child’s play compared to what he’s already been through. He was numb to it.

[facecollapsedthroughentropy]

104 Degrees (M.H)

Summary: Meet-cute with Matty, loosely based on "104 Degrees" by Slaughter Beach, Dog.

Word Count: 667

Warnings: This is disgustingly cute, my teeth are rooting from the sheer amount of sweetness.

Author's note: I haven't written in a long time, so bear with me. If you have any requests for blurbs or imagines, send an ask! I would love to write more for Matty. :)

It was the first day of summer in London. The midday sun was blazing down, distinct shadows of each tree cast down upon the bustling streets.

Matty was sweating, the sun beating down and the lack of water didn't help in any way. Maybe a trip to the bookstore in this unbearable summer heat wasn't a smart choice in hindsight, atleast so he thought.

He stepped out of the small boutique, a bag filled with books in his hand. Beads of sweat were forming on his hairline and even in his linen shirt, he felt clammy. Looking through the crowd, he observed each and every one of the passersby.

Families with their children, sticky ice-cream-covered hands gripping at their parents'.

Groups of teens going on shopping sprees, clad in the hippest clothes and iced coffees in their clasp.

Oh.

His eyes suddenly landed on something, or rather someone. There she was, sitting alone on a bench just outside of his go-to café. The swarm of people simply blending into one mixture behind her, leaving only her figure in focus.

A book in hand, which he promptly recognized to be Murakami's "Kafka on the Shore", and a pair of deeply tinted shades sat on her nose.

He knew it sounded cheesy, even cringing at his own internal thoughts at that second, but he was taken, completely and utterly enthralled.

He watched as her hands reached up to tie her hair, how the sweat stuck to each strand at the back of her neck.

He didn't know how long he had been standing there, but he was abruptly pulled out of his trance when her gaze lifted to look at him. His unbelieving stare reflected in her dark set of sunglasses.

She smiled at him.

His brain short-circuited. Good God, what was he doing! Smile back, you idiot!

He grinned, after an embarassingly long second, and lifted his hand up to wave at the woman. The next thing he heard was a crash.

Oh no...

His books went tumbling down onto the pavement and right at that moment, he wanted to be swallowed whole. Change his name and forever disappear, preferably to somewhere a bit colder.

He quickly reached down to collect his clumsy mess, hastily shoving it into his totebag in hopes of her not having seen his little accident.

He reached to grab ahold of his last book, ironically another work of Murakami's: The Wind-Up Bird. His hand instantaneously covered by a foreign one, trying to help him by picking up the last piece.

"Thank you..." he spoke softly to the stranger and smiled looking up. He was met with his own reflection yet again, which slowly disappeared as the stranger lifted up her shades, revealing her glimmering eyes.

"You're welome," she said in an amused tone, clearly having seen his antics.

Matty's face turned beet-red. This couldn't get any worse, could it?

"Uhm," he started trying to piece together a coherent sentence. Why was he like this! His usual, overly-confident self was gone, off on holiday and never to be seen again.

"Nice choice," she stopped his blubbering and handed him the book.

"Yeah... One of my friends recommended it to me," he spoke out nervously, reaching up to adjust his curls.

"Thanks again, for helping me and all," he chuckled out softly.

She hummed in response, grinning up at him and opening her mouth to respond, just to be cut off by the overly-eager man.

"Do you want to get something to drink? So I can pay you back for your kindness y'know," Matty offered hastily, beaming at the woman he had yet to know the name of.

Overtaken by his sudden confidence, the woman beamed back at him. Internally, she was going crazy. The minute she saw him step out of her favourite bookstore, she knew she was done for. The way his curls feel onto his forehead, how the light linen shirt contrasted his dark tattoos.

Oh God. She was entranced.

"I would love to."

[icequeenlila]

A Son for a Son

“What is wrong with you?”

Neteyam’s voice was small, but intense, pressed through the slits of his teeth, bared in a silent snarl. There was something vicious to it. Something that was almost vile. Kiri, who had been sitting pressed right up next to Jake, moved away from him now. Shock clear inside her wide eyes.

“Dad”, she croaked at a loss of words, her voice small and miserable. She was shaking her head absentmindedly, while slowly crawling away from him.

Jake looked at her and suddenly his chest didn’t feel all that numb anymore. He didn’t even try to apologize. He deserved this.

“All I ever tried to do was protect him!”

Neteyam’s voice made the hair on Jake’s neck stand on end. He looked back at his son and whatever wall there had been protecting Jake from everything he didn’t want to feel, broke away just like that. Like harsh waves of ice-cold water hitting him straight on, and all his defenses came crumbling down.

Neteyam didn’t look like himself anymore. There was bottomless rage inside his burning eyes, silent tears running down his cheeks unnoticed. His shoulders were drawn back, muscles strung tight and shaking violently. He looked like a mad animal about to attack.

And Jake felt his own heart shatter at the realization that he’d never noticed how much of himself Neteyam had been hiding all this time. Without him noticing. It was all breaking free now.

“I tried to protect him, not just from all the dangers out there!”, his son screamed, voice strung so tight it was barely his own anymore. “Not just from the outside, from all the shit happening around us!” He made a wide gesture with his hand, movements abrupt and edgy, signing at the wreck of a life they were leading.

“Neteyam.” Neytiri’s voice was weak, face wet with tears as she reached for her son.

Neteyam ignored her.

“I wanted to protect what he has in here!” He violently tapped his chest, his burning gaze not once leaving Jake. He was shaking all over now, almost out of his mind. “Because I know Lo’ak and I know he doesn’t like himself and I know that part of it is your fault!”

A heavy sob rasped from Jake’s throat, and only now did he realize the hot burn inside his eyes. The wetness of his skin and lips, as miserable tears ran and ran his face. He didn’t say a word, determined to listen to everything Neteyam had to say. Everything his son had to throw his way; he would take it.

“All I ever wanted was to keep him safe and you … you just … you turned me into this!”

And Neteyam’s voice was a wretched thing now. Shrill with raw anger. His eyes focused solely onto Jake, gaze piercing him, lips pulled tight over his teeth as his jaw trembled with uncontainable rage.

“You turned me into this nightmare, into a bad memory. You made me his biggest guilt! What the fuck?! What is wrong with you?! Tell me! Tell me, because I don’t get it! You tell us you love us, that you will keep us safe and then you do this! You blamed him! You blamed him! You put my death onto him! I hate you! I hate you! I HATE YOU!”

“Neteyam!”

Neytiri was at his side now, not waiting for him to look at her but simply wrapping both her arms around her son, pulling him in tight against her. She buried her lips against his sculp and kissed him like she had when he’d been still a child, one hand on the back of his neck, the other smoothing over the top of his head, and she cried while rocking him back and forth, holding him like the small child he once had been.

And something broke then. A shudder running through Neteyam’s body, the all-consuming rage inside his eyes subsiding as something else entered his gaze. Something softer. Something that was deeply hurt and vulnerable. Unbearably raw.

His face half buried against his mother’s shoulder he blinked against the tears, eyes wide, like he only now grew aware of them. Like he was only now starting to feel the pain they brought. Like he was only now understanding how utterly broken it all was.

“Mom?”, he croaked, voice barely audible, his body falling slack against his mother, his arms hanging useless at his sides.

“I am so sorry, my son”, Neytiri cried, rocking him softly, holding him, running gentle fingers through his hair. “I am sorry. I promise everything will be right again. I promise I will keep all of you safe. Your father and I will do better. I promise, Neteyam. You will never have to feel this way again.”

Neteyam showed no reaction.

~ from chapter 10 'Hope'

+

Link to fic

Link to chapter 10

[grayintogreen]

what about dissecting ashley's monologue to indulge a reader instead 👀

I do think that, like, examples work best for people who maybe really like the vibes that post is putting out, but want to see it in action, so it does work as a teaching moment.

I do also what to preface this by saying that not every monologue needs to hit all or any of these criteria. It is, specifically, about being unsettling, but I think if you hit the first big monologue with a lot of these, it will make EVERYTHING the villain says way more unsettling just because you know what they're capable of. Ashley gets a lot of jokes (from me, mainly from me) for being a wordy little shit, but he only has a handful of true monologues and ALL OF THEM occur when he has the people he's monologuing at at his mercy. I think the biggest crime a villain can commit is monologuing before they've secured a victory. (This is why Ludinus irks me where Lucien never did- Lucien's monologues ALWAYS occurred when he had the upper hand and right before he pulled a full Ozymandias, whereas Ludinus tends to monologue seconds before he gets utterly humiliated. Like yeah, he got away and technically "won" but he talked too soon. That said, Ludinus's monologues do fit a lot of these criteria, so like… They're good monologues. He's just doing it way too soon, but, like, I get it. Poor Matt would never get to use those speeches if he didn't.)

Also Ashley is Lucien's narrative foil and based on Brennan Lee Mulligan so of course he knows when and where to deliver his speeches.

BUT TO THE POINT. The monologue in dreamers is EXTREMELY important, because it's Ashley's proper introduction (barring the scene at the end of OUADYA where he is merely set up as Jayne's partner. Lord Allard's son, and an annoyance to her, which makes him seem like some cheap additional muscle). This monologue is basically Ashley's Establishing Character Moment after he's wasted the Tombtakers, who had previously wasted the Mighty Nein with a surprise attack and then additionally wasted several Assembly wizards, proving he's a scarier threat.

But let's break it down! I'm gonna go through the full scene alongside all ten examples in the post so this will get long and… extremely indulgent, so remember I WAS ASKED. #autism

A fifth person stumbled out and then stumbled backwards- a skinny, though well-muscled, man in light plate with a dark bowl-cut and piercing blue eyes. His eyes widened underneath his fringe of straight bangs and he dragged his teeth down his bottom lip.

“Oh… Oh boy. That is… Yikes. You, uh, really tore into my friends there.” He pushed further in instead of running, which seemed unbearably stupid and just a bit irritating. It might have been fun if he tried to flee. “So that happened.” Tyffial’s nostrils flared and she advanced. One more easy kill then? One more easy kill then. He blinked at her as she took graceful strides towards him like a predatory beast, but didn’t move. It was as if she didn’t have a necrotic blade in her hand and blood splattered across her tanned skin. It was as if he believed if he didn't move, she could not see him. “Ohhh. Oh you’re gonna kill me now. Fantastic. Just one thing I gotta say first.” His entire bearing changed before Tyffial could abort her action, leaving Zoran and Otis shouting futilely behind her. His eyes darkened and a blade came into his hands- a dark dagger- and before she could properly register how ineffective it would be against a rapier, the man moved and slipped underneath her defenses and slammed the dagger, hilt-deep into her stomach and twisted. ”Thank you.”

Here we have Ashley's intro into the scene which already sets him up as unsettling- he stumbles in, sees the carnage, acts like a bumbling idiot, all to see what Tyffial will do and the moment she attacks him, he goes in for the kill, thanking her for giving him a reason to attack here. This is where the contradictions come in! We learn immediately that for all that Ashley is a brutal servant of the Chained Oblivion, he has a code. He won't attack unless he's attacked first.

Tyffial gurgled and slipped to the floor on top of her pile of corpses. The man standing before her flipped the dagger and threw it at Zoran- landing just to the left of his heart in a critical blow that dropped him to his knees. The dagger yanked back into his hands and he lunged at Otis, drawing a streaming red line from ear to ear across their throat like a smile, leaving them choking and bleeding out on the stones.

No, no, no… Tyffial gripped her stomach with one hand and started to crawl towards Otis. She had potions in her bag. She could bring them back up. She could fix this.

I can’t be alone again.

Zoran recovered and lunged, flaming maul aiming to make short work of this stranger, but he sidestepped into the shadows and reappeared elsewhere. Zoran tried to aim again, but the maul passed through nothing but an illusion. He had time to bark a confused huh before the man reappeared and stabbed him in the back with the same brutal efficiency he had shown on everyone else.

“See. Here’s the thing. I don’t like to fight people who don’t attack first. It’s a code of honor thing. I’m a paladin.” He yanked the blade free and left Zoran to fall back to his knees and stay down this time. “I’m a really, really nasty paladin, but there’s still a code I follow. Evil has standards sometimes, right?” He gave his dagger another flip and threw it right into Tyffial’s hand, piercing through bone and preventing her from crawling any closer to Otis. She bit back a scream.

“That’s gonna leave a mark by the by.” He recalled the dagger into his hand and moved to Tyffial, crouching in front of her and blocking her view of Otis.

Furthering the contradictions- Ashley is extremely affable, even as he's actively attacking. This is also where body language comes into play. Ashley plays with his food in combat due to the illusory nature of his paladin/weapon abilities. He does spend a lot of this conversation crouching, turning a dangerous conversation into a more conversational one by virtue of making it a chat.

Knowing not what else to do, she spat in his face and snapped through pained tears, “What do you want?”

The man dragged a hand down his face and flicked the bloody spittle off his fingers. “Okaaay. Way to start a negotiation. Noted. Hi. I’m Ashley. Nice to meet you.” He grabbed her by the hair and threw her back against the bodies and, all the while, his casual tone never changed, which made it all the more haunting. “And since we’re friends now… I have to tell you that I lied before. Those guys weren’t my friends. I pretended to be a helpless rich boy who needed a guide and threw money at them until they decided to let me play too. Guess which part of that I lied about.” He smiled wickedly and held the bloody dagger up to her face- this close she could see it was a jagged, ugly thing with an endless maze pattern carved into it. It made her dizzy to stare at it.

This is a mild example of subverting expectations- Ashley doesn't get angry that Tyffial spits at him. (In an ideal world (and will likely be fixed in future edits of the series) I would not have off-loaded the effect of the scene by pointing out that Tyffial finds his contradictions haunting. So, like, this is a learning experience for me too. Don't lampshade that. Let your audience find it haunting without the POV character telling them that it is.) Anyway, Ashley's reaction- tossing her aside into the bodies- is just a show of his strength. He doesn't backhand her like a typical arrogant male villain would do for the disrespect. He simply brushes it off and then continues his speech by pushing Tyffial's face in the mess she made of the people he had with him and what a huge depth between their power and his is.

Every breath was agony. Tyffial frantically checked on Otis and Zoran- still alive, but barely. She needed to get to them.

Ashley looked over his shoulder to follow her gaze and dragged a hand down his clean-shaven chin. “Right. You asked me a question. What do I want… Hm. What… do I want?”

He screwed up his face, considering. “World peace? Good will towards all persons? The total annihilation of literally everything in this fucking world?”

He laughed, as cold and brutal as his tone of voice wasn’t. “Weirdly the, uh, that one doesn’t contradict the first two things, but you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? You get it. You get that ever since the Calamity, things have been barreling towards the exact same scenario, ‘cept there’s no gods this time to punish the folly of man, is there? They locked all those doors up really tight after the last guy yanked the deadbolt out. So it just continues and continues on and on and on. Someone’s gotta put the kibosh in it. ‘Cause we can’t do this again. The next time mortals aim so fucking high there’s not gonna be a hand to slap us down and eventually we’ll push too far and it’s gonna be worse than if the gods had just put us in cosmic time-out with an apocalypse in our backyard.”

He stopped just shy of building to an angry rant, breathed in, and then spoke softly again. “I don’t want that. I won’t be alive then, but if I was, I’d definitely hate to see what happens when hubris runs unchecked.”

Here we have Ashley messing with syntax! He gets distracted, he rambles, he alternates between deep eloquence and slang. He speaks casually, but formally, due to a combination of his noble background and general disregard for how he's perceived. I think on top of comparing him to Brennan, who his entire syntax is based on, he has the vibe of a Christoph Waltz character who plays some REALLY iconic villains by simply using natural charm, casual syntax, and extremely sharp lines delivered in the middle of otherwise innocuous rambles. It's also kind of a Tarantino staple and I've made ZERO secret how much of my writing is inspired by him. He's also based on Harry Lime from The Third Man, which is where a lot of his belief system comes on, who ALSO delivers monologues in this specific way.

Ashley mentioning that world peace and general good will being the same as annihilation ALSO subverts audience expectations, because it's NOT sarcastic. This is the crux of what he believes, which brings us into the next bit.

He leaned closer to her, almost nose to nose. “See, deep down, we both want the same things. We don’t want this world to exist anymore. You just want a better one and I want nothing because there’s no such thing as better.”

The anger returned and this time he let it run unchecked. “Better is a lie that mommies and daddies tell their children so they grow up to keep rearranging deck chairs on a sinking ship. Better is a subjective term that nobody will ever agree to. The only thing that is better than what you have right now is nothing.” He spread his hands, eyes closing in a sudden serenity that came on the heels of the anger and somehow merged with it. “Absolute. Perfect. Nothingness. No pain. No suffering. No sense of self. And isn’t that exactly what you want- No, don’t answer. That was rhetorical.”

Jayne believes in destruction for destruction's sake. Ashley believes it serves a purpose and here he uses this to throw Tyffial's beliefs against her and mirror her, pointing out that Lucien's plan to bring everything a equilibrium is pointless because better is subjective and generally a lie because one person's better is another person's eternal damnation. Without actually saying it in direct words, he's effectively deriding Lucien's plan that Tyffial still believes strongly in is just another lie and that what she really wants is for her pain to stop.

This is also where we get quiet confidence mixed with loud assertion, which is Brennan Lee Mulligan's STAPLE CROP in monologues. Ashley gets loud when he's genuinely angry, so this marks the first time we see what makes him angry. We know at this point and it's one of the few things we know that he hates his father, who famously was part of a cult that wanted to cause destruction and suffering in the name of betrayer gods and their ilk not because of belief in their tenets, but because they were rich assholes who wanted an excuse built in for why they chose to be cruel assholes. This spits in the face of Ashley's belief system which is that destruction MUST occur for new growth. This is also what sets apart from Jayne, who believes in destruction for destruction’s sake.

(As a sidebar, a lot of Ashley’s design went into me really putting the work in to figure out what would make a lawful follower of a chaotic deity. Believing in the natural cycle of death and rebirth felt like a good way to honor paladin creeds even with Ashley being a Treachery Paladin that are just modified Blackguards, but are still required to take Oaths, unlike Oathbreakers.)

He placed his palms together. “And I promise I’m getting to the point. The point… The point is that I need everything to go a certain way and you are very, very much not hip to my vibe right now. So I’m gonna need you to step off, go back to your little hovel in whatever shithole you crawled out of, and not try to murder these people anymore. Mmkay? ‘Cause if you don’t, then the halfling’s gonna bleed out.” He pointed behind him at Otis, glassy-eyed and taking shallow breaths as their slit throat leaked blood onto the stones. “And then I’m gonna start peeling the skin off the goliath and when I’m done with that, I’m gonna break both your legs and leave you here with the bodies just to see what you end up doing. Trust me, I have theories and it’s a hell of a thing to watch when you’re bored between acts of devotion for the uncaring toothy void I call a god.”

Once again, we see Ashley playing with syntax. This is also where we get our first glimpse of Ashley’s certain threats. We know Ashley is good on his word- he’s already caused the Tombtakers considerable harm without them ever getting a hit on him. And while he has certainly explained the WHY he wants to do what he does, he has left everything ambiguous, including his god. Maybe a good history check would narrow it down, given he did flash his dagger, which is specifically the Blade of Broken Mirrors, the arm of Tharizdun’s chosen, but ultimately he’s vagueing it up. He said a lot of shit, but all he really said was “I want the world to burn and I want you to let this go.” We don’t know Ashley’s plan, only that it involves the Somnovem and requires the Nein to survive. So he hasn’t paused everything to reveal his evil plan. He’s just made it plain that the Tpmbtakers are interfering and given them a clear option. He could kill them and he probably should, but he has his reasons for letting them live to tell the tale should Tyffial choose “correctly.”

Ashley grabbed her by the collar to pull her up, putting pressure on her wounded stomach. His tone was unnervingly even now. “I’ve got big plans and I’m a rich male human, so I’m really used to things going my way. You don’t wanna see me when things aren’t. This is me being polite, honestly. And you wanna know why I’m being polite? Because I know you’re not gonna let your friend bleed out. I know you’re gonna do everything I ask. And how do I know that? Because deep down, you want the darkness too. It doesn’t matter who brings it so long as it swallows you whole.”

He released her and she fell back again with a half-choked cry of pain. She folded her arms over her wet and tacky leathers like she might hold more of her own blood inside her that way.

“So what’s it gonna be? Tick tock.”

Tyffial didn’t waste any time. “Otis. Fuck you. Fuck you.” “Are you telling Otis that or are you talking to me?” He waved his hand around his ear. “Not really clear.”

“Save Otis,” she gasped, desperately, and hated herself all the more for it.

“Oh that’s a good choice. Lovely work.” He clapped his hands together, stood, marched over to Otis and laid his hands upon the wound he’d left. The skin knit together leaving a pale scar like a smile across their neck. Ashley took one look at his work, threw a smile over his shoulder at Tyffial and vanished.

And scene! For Ashley, anyway. Here we see him using personal knowledge against Tyffial- he knows enough to know that she’s broken, desperate to keep hold of the friends she has, and won’t choose a horrific, slow death in favor of her pride. He doesn’t pull the “you should join me” card because he knows she’d never do it, but he plays on her exhaustion by saying that to get what she wants, all she has to do is step aside for a moment. It’s cruel, callous, and does everything it’s supposed to- set Ashley up as a villain and show how absolutely fucked up Tyffial is by everything that is happening, providing a bait and switch that shows she and the Tombtakers WON’T be villains in the next story and that Ashley is absolutely too strong for the Nein to deal with and that they’re in over their heads even with their human enemies.

And that’s the monologue break-down! Hopefully it helps some people with writing villains and if it doesn’t… well, here’s my thought process for one of my favorite scenes in all of LitMoR.

[souls-made-of-autumn]

Astrid, in your world, feels like she was born of stormlight and shadow.

She’s the kind of witch who moves through moonlight like it belongs to her—quiet, observant, and effortlessly magnetic. There’s an old soul in her eyes, the kind that seems to remember ancient things: blood-soaked ruins, whispered promises in the dark, and love that tastes like ruin and reverence. She's clever, sharp-tongued when she wants to be, but often chooses stillness over noise, silence over performance. There’s strength in her quiet—a coiled power beneath the surface that makes others pause before they approach.

Her presence lingers, like the scent of night-blooming flowers or the chill that comes before a thunderstorm. Loki is drawn to her not only because she sees him, truly sees him, but because she mirrors his chaos with a haunting steadiness. She's soft where he's jagged, light where he's shadow—but that light has teeth. She doesn’t bend easily. She’s not some mortal muse to be worshipped—she demands to be known, and in knowing her, one is changed.

She finds beauty in strange things: the flicker of dying candlelight, the way ravens tilt their heads when they listen, the feel of rain on her skin when everyone else runs for shelter. There’s mischief in her too—playful, curious, a match for Loki’s own, but anchored by a deeper purpose. She laughs like it’s a secret and kisses like a vow.

And always, always, there is devotion in her—fierce and frightening. She would burn the world for him, and he would let it burn.

Loki, to Astrid, is everything forbidden and everything fated.

He is the ache in her bones she doesn’t speak of—the one she felt before she even knew his name. He is the storm she walks into willingly, the ruin she chooses every time. He is not just a lover or a companion—he is hers, in the most terrifying, sacred sense of the word.

He is the only one who ever truly unraveled her. With everyone else, she is a mystery, a ghost behind a veil, something lovely but untouchable. But Loki? He sees her. Peels her open like poetry, like prophecy. With him, she isn’t afraid to be all the things she usually hides: her hunger, her fury, her softness. She lets him see the dark corners of her heart because she knows he has shadows of his own—and instead of recoiling from them, she reaches for them. Loves them.

He is her chaos and her clarity. Her equal and her undoing. Her sanctuary and her torment. When he smiles, the world sharpens. When he is gone, the silence is unbearable.

She doesn’t worship him blindly—no, Astrid loves Loki knowing full well the danger he is. The lies, the sharp edges, the fire that can consume. And still she chooses him, not despite his darkness, but because of it. Because he is real—terrible and beautiful and honest in a way the world rarely is.

To Astrid, Loki is the only one worth trembling for. Worth bleeding for. Worth burning for.

To Loki, Astrid is his obsession wrapped in a quiet storm. She is the one thing he did not expect—did not plan for—and now cannot live without. In a world that has always demanded masks and trickery, Astrid is the one soul who sees past the illusions. She doesn’t flinch from his worst parts; she names them. She doesn’t try to tame him; she simply walks beside the beast, unafraid.

He sees her as wild in her own way—gentle but not soft, lovely but never tame. There’s a haunting stillness to her, like a frozen lake with something monstrous beneath the surface. She carries wounds the way he carries magic—in her blood, in her silences. She is clever, perceptive, and utterly maddening in how she refuses to be caught, yet somehow always ends up in his arms, where she fits like a secret long kept.

Astrid is his. Not in a way that cages her, but in the way gravity claims a planet, inevitable and binding. He is possessive of her in a way he’s never been with anyone else—because she is the only thing in all the realms he fears losing. She is his mirror and his mercy. His undoing and his redemption.

And beneath all his mischief, all his manipulation and wit, Loki is terrified of the way he loves her. Because it’s not a trick. It’s real. And it would destroy him if she ever turned away.

[flowerpottlady]

Sharp

The worst begins...

Day 6 of Jily microfics!

MASSIVE trigger warning here, if anything at all makes you feel uncomfortable reading about childbirth, or labor or anything of the sort, please just skip this chapter.

I wrote this for me. I saw the word and was inspired - there is just something so utterly tragic about James and Lily's situation here, I needed it to be in words.

I truly hope you enjoy if you do decide to read this one, it means a lot to me.

Read under the cut!

All she ever wanted was to be a mother, it was a deep desire, something she very rarely spoke aloud. She was heartbreakingly happy when she found out she was pregnant back in december, but guilt gnawed dangerously at her once she realized she had to bring a baby into a war. A war in which she and her husband were standing on the frontlines.

And Voldemort, the monstrous lead of the enemy side targeted this human being that they created. Wanted to kill her baby. 

It was July 30th, any day now Lily could go into labor, it should have been the happiest day of her life - and instead, they were mindlessly watching the telly, the only thing they had to do since going into hiding. James had his feet up on the coffee table, something his mother surely would have scolded him for in the past. But she wasn’t here now. She couldn’t guide him through what came next. 

Lily was laid out across the sofa, her head resting in James’ lap. A pillow tucked between her thighs, another supporting her lower back. She was in turmoil, the cramping in her stomach getting worse. She strained herself mentally, holding her breath lest she make a noise and alert her husband that the worst possible thing that could happen, was actually happening. 

The telly flicked from the comedy show they were watching, to the evening news - but it was all static to her- as it had been days. Lily sucked in a harsh breath through her teeth. Her eyes grew wide in panic as a sharp pain ripped through her. 

“You alright love?” James asked, looking down at her, stroking her hair back from her forehead.  

“Mmm… just a bit uncomfortable.” She whispered, silently screaming inside. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” James asked, trying to keep the worry from his voice. 

“I’ll be alright,” she spoke softly, her words coming out like a pathetic whimper. 

“Are you sure?” 

“James.” Lily said shortly, closing her eyes and taking in another slow breath through her nose. She whimpered on the exhale, willing tears not to fall from her eyes at the indescribable pain she was in. 

“Right, well I have to go use the loo now, you’ll be okay?” 

She could only nod, and James carefully extracted himself from under her, crouching to give her another kiss. “I love you Lily.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Lil.” 

She moved her arm under her head, closing her eyes, letting the exhaustion sink in. “I love you too.” 

Once he was safely away from her, Lily allowed herself to succumb to the pain. Breathing out roughly, a sob escaping as she curled into herself. She couldn’t bare to touch her stomach right now. Unbearable fear settling in. 

As the seventh month dies. 

Lily wasn’t having her baby today, or tomorrow. 

She leaned down, pushing the pillow away from between her thighs and crossing her legs. As if that would bloody help. 

Suppressing the urge to scream, she picked up her head, looking to see if James was on his way back. She was in the clear, and she turned her face into the cushion. Groaning roughly as her belly cramped up again, her baby nestling itself right into her pelvis. 

“Lily?” Her husband asked softly, her wonderful doting husband. She couldn’t hide this from him. 

“Lil, c’mon look at me.” He said, and she could hear the panic in his voice. She couldn’t bring herself to look up at him then. 

“Lily are you in labor?” James asked, sounding sick. 

Lily shook her head no. 

His hand was on her back, rubbing it affectionately. “Lil.” He whispered. 

“Please go away, James. Please.” She begged weakly. 

“There… there was some erm… mucus…  on the toilet seat.”

Another sob, a gut wrenching sob that broke both of their hearts. 

“Oh Lily.” He rubbed her lower back, pressing his lips gently against her temple. 

“How long have the contractions been happening?” He asked once her tears ebbed. 

She looked up at him, her cheeks tear - stained, her eyes puffy. “They’re not happening.” She told him, her voice breaking, “he’s… he’s not coming until August.” 

“You can’t put this off Lil.” 

“James… this… this isn’t happening,” she spoke, a fresh round of tears breaking through as her belly clamped up in another contraction. 

James reached for her hand, and held it tentatively, squeezing once the pain became too much.  “You’ve been having contractions sense dinner at least, I could see it in your face.” He said once she relaxed. 

“James please…. I… I can’t do this.” She sobbed, nearly in hysterics. 

“Okay. Alright, listen to me. The second this gets to be too much, I’m calling Marlene and we are going through with the birth plan.” James said, worry for his wife actually having to give birth soon now taking over every nerve in his body. “Look at me Lily,” he said, holding her face in his hands. “This is your first baby, he will take his time. We can just wait this out okay? I’ll distract you. We can try to make it till Sunday.” 

“Okay,” she said, relaxing only slightly, not thrilled with the thought of having to endure this pain for the next day and a half. But it was better than the alternative, her son being born as the seventh month died. “We wait.” 

“The second it gets to be too much, I’m going through with the birth plan.” He told her seriously. 

“We wait. He’s not coming out anytime soon.” She said, a furious look in her eye, one that James knew he wasn’t going to fight with.

***

Start from the beginning here! 31 days of Potters

[ofinfinitedreams]

There was this unbearable and unbreakable bond that Quinn desperately craved to have with him. The blonde highly possessively when it comes to things and people she desires the most. Gunther being on her mind almost constantly. To have her mouth and teeth on his chiseled body. Marking him, claiming him as hers was a potent aphrodiasic, stimulating her ever growing sexual desire for him. He was hers. Rocking her hips harder and faster, grinding her lower half onto him as she rode him feverishly chasing her high. Her walls spasming around his thickness as he filled inside her warmth. It was heavenly so. She could hear the gospels sing. His groans were music to her ears. So delightful as she hummed blissfully. Rocking without abandon, the sound of the slapping of their flesh bounced off the walls of their room. The air was crackling with such electricity. Her darkened orbs bore into his own. She had never felt something so visceral, so primal before. All she knew it was because of him. Her eyes fluttered at the overwhelming sensations stirred within. She breathed heavily, a low whimper threatened to fall at the feel of his digits digging into her flesh. "I-I think I have some idea," she teased with joy as her walls clenched around him. God, it felt amazing. A low hum of approval emitted from her throat. "Mmm. You stretch me so good, baby. Filling me up and fitting me like a glove," she purred.

As her thrusts grew more frenzied as she bucked wantonly against him. Quinn could sense him about to lose control, much like she was. The blonde was completely and utterly lost her will against him. She was insatiable. Her needs and want only grew in ecstasy. "That's what I want, baby. I want to to obliterate me," she cried in utmost delight. It was magical. The throes of passion were unbelievable. The way his cock swelled and pulsated inside her was divine. As their mouth collided with such intensity, as their tongues duelling, with each vicious thrust he gave. "Fuck, yes Gunther," she whimpered. "I want it, baby," she murmured as he gave her what she craved the most. Low guttural moans escaped as he relentlessly pounded into her wet cunt. Hitting her sweet spot every time was enough to topple her over, as her orgasm crashed over her. Feeling him expand and release his seed inside her warmth. Her walls milking every last drop. Whilst her body shook, along with his in this wonderful, magnificent explosion of desire. "Mmm. That was…" she spoke softly, breathing harshly trying to take control. "Breathtaking, love. You're simply amazing. You have turned me to mush," she stated astonished and her eyes were so full of love and affection, and awe.

gunther’s breath hitched, his body thrumming with raw intensity as quinn's mouth left hot, wet marks along his skin. every bite, every suck sent a surge of possessiveness coursing through him. she was branding him, making sure the world knew he belonged to her, and he relished in it, the pleasure mixing with the primal satisfaction of being claimed.

her hips grinding against his only stoked the fire already burning between them, each roll of her body feeding his desire, making it harder to hold back. His hands gripped her hips tightly, feeling her warmth, her need as she moved with such wild abandon.

“fuck, quinn…” he growled, his voice low and rough, nearly choking on the pleasure that was building with every second. the sound of her moans, her words, were driving him insane, pulling him deeper into the storm they were creating together.

her question, that teasing gleam in her eyes—it made him smirk through the haze. “obvious? you have no idea what you do to me,” he groaned, his fingers digging into her flesh as he thrust deeper, harder, meeting her heat with his own. “god, i feel it… every inch of you. you’re squeezing me so tight, i can barely think,” he panted, the pleasure growing unbearable as her body clenched around him.

he was losing control, the feel of her tightness, the way she demanded more from him, all too much. “shit, baby… you’re gonna make me lose it,” he gasped as his thrusts grew more frantic, his cock pulsing inside her, desperate to reach that peak she was driving him toward.

her words pushed him over the edge—the way she begged, the way she needed him to fill her. it was intoxicating. his lips crashed into hers, a desperate, heated kiss, full of the hunger and fire between them, tongues battling for dominance as his pace became relentless.

“you want it, love?” he growled into her mouth, his hand snaking up to tangle in her hair, pulling her closer, needing her closer. “you’re gonna get it. all of it.”

his body tensed, every muscle coiling tight as he pounded into her, chasing that release they both craved. with a final, guttural groan, he exploded inside her, filling her completely, his body shaking from the force of his orgasm.

“oh my god…” he rasped, his voice thick with exhaustion and satisfaction as he held her tight, his forehead resting against hers, breath coming in heavy gasps. “you’re… incredible.”

[besamehyuka]

If I’m to Blame Introduction

Hueningkai (Aphrodite!) X Chubby Reader

Chapter 1  Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5

His grip on your hair only intensified as did your breathing. The hot shower water creeping between your bodies as he gave a struggled groan, your moans came and went as he pounded deeply into your core. Your chubby legs struggling to keep you upright as you felt every inch of him.

“Oh Kai! Please!” You pleaded, wanting nothing more than to just cum, but every time you felt as if you were going to were release, he drew back, smirking, smiling at you with that beautiful white teethed grin of his. 

It was no fault of his own, you hadn’t known Aphrodite was a male. You hadn’t thought about it too much, you had read what the college professors had written and taught and lectured. 

But they were all wrong. 

Aphrodite wasn’t heartless, he wasn’t careless. Well, he did lust for sex all the time actually, but that wasn’t all he was after. He had stolen your heart after you had told him to “fuck off you dirty Olympian!” 

You had took his heart way before that meeting actually, a desperate cry. An awakening he needed. A fueling in his heart. A ravaging dog in search of food. A need so desperate he lay a night, drenched in sweat, waiting for the day you’d show up, demanding to see him. Demanding to right the wrong. 

And that day had come. You had come. But for other reasons. 

He didn’t want to think about it too much, for right now he had you. In his palace. In his temple. In his room. In his shower, and in his arms. And right now, he was deep inside you.

Deep inside the wetness of your core, every inch of his length coated in the longing and desperation of finally having you. “I fucking own you!” He gritted through his teeth, tugging at your hair, until you were nothing but screams and an arched back off his chest, your hands pressed against the tiled wall. 

“Shut up!” You demanded, you thought again, but once again those thoughts were pressed out by the sounds and the unbearable pleasure of Kai, of Aphrodite, slamming away at your g-spot.

“Please just let me cum! Haven’t you tortured me enough?” You yelled, tears stained your cheeks, threatening to just squeeze away at his cock, hold him there until you force all his warm cum into you, into your womb, right where you needed him most.

With that long yelp and cry from his torment he chuckled, leaning down to let out a deep growl. “You cum when I say you can cum. You are mine, and I have all rights to you.”

You felt so useless, so utterly useless in that moment. But you didn’t care. All you wanted was to be used. You just wanted him. You wanted to continue feeling him, to love him. 

But maybe this is what your mother had warned you about. Maybe this is what she told you to stay away from. His charm, his power to make you do things you didn’t want to do.

How many girls had he slept with? Were you the first? You couldn’t be. Could you?

“CUM!” He declared as he reached his high, spilling his warm and delicious seed into you, filling you up until you couldn’t take anymore. 

You let out a sharp exhale and released around his long cock, rolling your eyes back, you screamed. Finally getting the release you’d been desiring. 

The thought still lingering in the back of your mind. 

Why were you so worried about it in the first place?

[alyssaallyrion]

Title: i prayed one word (i want)

Rating: M

Summary: An errant confession of forbidden love, a grief-fueled tryst in the night - war has a way of bringing out the things that otherwise would stay concealed. Only the war is over, and peace has come, and it's time to pick up the pieces.

Notes: Originally intended as a one-shot for Hyuga Week, but covid got in the way and then this turned into...well, whatever this is. 

ao3 link

Chapter 1

“Neji-nii-san, Neji-nii-san!” Hinata calls out desperately, her voice trembling from quiet sobs as she falls to her knees beside him in the dirt.

Neji struggles to keep his eyes open – he’s lost a lot of blood, and searing agony piercing his entire being drained him of what little remained of his strength. The world around loses sound and color with every passing moment, as unbearable chill slowly seeps into his very bones. Neji has seen enough in his time as a shinobi to know what this means for him.

Yet even as death’s frigid breath ghosts across his skin, all Neji can think about is Hinata. Fighting blood and bile rising in his throat, Neji grits his teeth and reaches out for her. Hinata shifts forward, meeting him halfway, cupping his hand with both of hers and pressing it to her cheek. His calloused, bloodied hand seems to scrape obscenely at her fair skin, but she leans firmly into the touch.

“Neji-nii-san...” her entire body shudders with a violent sob.

“Shh,” Neji murmurs gently, trying to wipe off her tears, but his fingers do not move.

Hinata looks at him with wide, terrified eyes, and it’s more than Neji can bear. She has always been his most precious person – that is why he chose to give up his life for hers without a second thought. He wanted Hinata to survive, live a long, happy life, have a family, and grow old with the person she truly loved. With Naruto.

He’d never meant for her to look so utterly heartbroken.

“How could you throw your life away like that, nii-san?” Hinata’s voice is barely a whisper, “We had sworn that we would break the vicious cycle of sacrifice between the main house and the branch house!”

Through pain, soft smile tugs at Neji’s lips. She doesn’t realize it – and how could she? After all, Neji knows he’s always been so difficult to understand. He wasn’t dying for Hinata because she was of the main branch or because she was the daughter of the clan leader. No, the truth was much simpler and, for that, all the more inexorable: he did it because he was in love with her. He loved her deeply, with all his heart, ever since he first laid his eyes upon her all those years ago – and he had every intention of taking this secret to his grave.

After all, he had no right to burden her with his feelings, not when he knew she was in love with someone else. Not when she looked at Naruto Uzumaki as if he were the sun.

“I’m sorry I won’t be by your side to help, Hinata-sama,” he tries to speak softly, but his voice is hoarse, “But I know that if anyone can change the ways of our clan, it’s you.”

“Neji-nii-san, please…” Hinata’s voice breaks as she clutches his hand tightly, “Please…”

“Please don’t cry,” Neji rasps, barely able to lift his head to look at her. Grief-stricken and exhausted, somehow Hinata still looks heart-shatteringly lovely.

“Why did you try to protect me?” Hinata sobs, “If I had known you’d do this, I would never...Neji-nii-san, please don’t leave me.”

If he could think clearer, Neji would have kept his mouth shut, would have taken never spilled his secret, but he is nigh delirious from pain and blood loss. His thoughts are muddled, confused fragments - and truth slips unbidden before he can bite his tongue.

“I love you,” he murmurs, “I would have died a thousand deaths if it meant you could live.”

Neji’s breaths come shallow and ragged. Blood gurgles in his lungs, slowly suffocating him, and his eyelids feel impossibly heavy. The world quickly fades into the darkness, and the last thing Neji sees before he closes his eyes is Hinata’s face.

“I think I understand now, father,” Neji muses, as his mind drifts off, “What true freedom is.”

“Neji…” Hinata calls out, but he cannot answer.

* * * “Neji-nii-san,” a quiet, familiar voice tugs at the edges of his consciousness, “Neji-nii-san.”

Neji struggles to open his eyes – his entire body feels foreign and heavy like lead. He feels utterly exhausted when, after a long moment, he finally forces his eyelids open.

The world around him is nothing but a blur of washed-out colors. Neji blinks once, then again, straining to see his surroundings among faint contours and shadows. Instantly, dull pressure winds like a snake around his temples, squeezing his head, and a jolt of bright, burning pain bursts behind his eyes, forcing Neji to wince.

“Neji-nii-san,” he hears Hinata gasp somewhere beside him, “Thank goodness you are awake!”

Slowly, the world begins to take shape, and Neji finds himself staring at the white ceiling of Konoha’s hospital room. Right by his bedside is Hinata, her wide, worried eyes trained upon him. There are deep shadows under her eyes, and her cheeks look sullen, and Neji knows she hasn’t slept in days.

“Hinata-sama,” he breathes out, his voice entirely too hoarse. His mouth feels dry, and the pressure around his head winds even tighter, but the soft, timid smile that blooms on Hinata’s lips almost makes him forget about the pain.

“You need water,” Hinata says, reaching over to grab a bottle from the small bedside table.

Neji stirs, trying to sit up, but the slightest movement brings a wave of sudden, searing pain.

“Please be careful, nii-san,” Hinata frowns, turning back to him, “Tsunade-sama said you should not get up when you awake, or you’ll disturb your wounds.”

“For how long?” Neji rasps, utterly unenthused by the impending bedrest.

“I’m not sure,” Hinata responds, “She said she’ll need to examine you once you are awake.”

Neji tries to nod but finds himself unable to move his neck. Hinata shifts forward, bringing the water bottle to his lips. Usually, Neji’s pride would have forced him to refuse the help, but he’s in too much pain and absolutely parched, so he does not argue. He drinks greedily, as though he hasn’t had a single drop of water in years, and when the bottle is empty, it still doesn’t feel like enough.

“I’m sorry,” Hinata murmurs apologetically, “I’ll go get you more water.”

As she shifts back into her seat, Neji feels her hand brush lightly against his, and suddenly, bright blush blooms on her cheeks.

“I...I will be right back,” Hinata stutters, and she’s on her feet, and next thing Neji knows, she’s almost halfway to the door.

Before she has a chance to leave, the door slides open, and Neji sees Lee and Tenten in the corridor.

“Hinata?” Tenten frowns, stepping into the room, “I thought you’d left to get some rest like you promised. Do you want Tsunade-sama to yell at you?”

“Tenten, Lee-san, Neji-nii-san is finally awake!” Hinata interrupts.

Before Neji can react, his teammates are by his bedside, chattering excitedly.

“I knew you were going to pull through!” Lee exclaims, beaming brightly at Neji and giving him a thumbs up, “Gai-sensei has always told us that nothing can beat the power of youth! And, besides, you are my eternal rival, my man of destiny – how could you possibly leave before we get to have our rematch?”

“I’m happy to see you too, Lee,” Neji sighs, smiling softly, “But please don’t cry.”

But he’s too late – Lee’s already sobbing, threatening to drown them all with his youthful tears.

“What would our team do without you?” Lee cries out and shifts forward as if to hug Neji. Painfully aware of the extent of his injuries, Neji winces internally, but before Lee can hug him, Tenten stops him in his tracks, grasping his forearm with a firm hand.

“What do you think you are doing?” she frowns at Lee, “You are going to disturb his wounds! What do you think Tsunade-sama will say then?”

Lee turns pale at the thought, and Neji can hardly blame him – few people were more terrifying in their wrath than the Godaime.

“I’m so sorry,” Lee mutters apologetically.

“And you,” Tenten continues, as she turns to Neji, still frowning, “Were you just going to leave me all alone to look after these two? That’s quite selfish if you ask me.”

“I’m sorry, Tenten,” Neji chuckles, but she doesn’t let up.

“You better not try something like this again,” she says flatly, then looks back at Lee, “Go find Tsunade-sama. I’m sure she’ll want to know that Neji’s awake.”

“Of course!” Lee nods enthusiastically before giving Neji a bright smile, “I will be right back.”

With that, he crosses the room with what looks like a single jump, flings the door open, and sprints into the corridor.

“Just so you know, I would have kicked your ass in the afterlife if you left me to deal with all this energy all by myself,” Tenten sighs, sliding her weapon scroll off her shoulder. After momentary contemplation, she leans it against the nightstand and settles on a small chair by Neji’s bedside.

“Then I’m glad I’m still here,” Neji laughs.

“You should be,” Tenten looks at him with serious eyes, “Tsunade-sama really is a miracle worker. To say that you had one foot in the grave would be a horrible understatement.”

Neji frowns - while he is acutely aware that he sustained grave injuries, his memories of the war are hazy at best, all overshadowed by the recollection of blinding, searing pain piercing his entire being.

“Tenten,” he says, calm and even-toned, “What happened?”

Concern, clear as day, spills across Tenten’s face, “You don’t remember?”

“No,” Neji admits flatly.

Tenten is silent for a long moment, as if hesitating, then she asks, “Do you remember Obito Uchiha and the Ten-Tails?”

Neji nods, trying not to wince from the jolt of pain the movement causes – that much he does remember.

“Well, when he attacked Naruto, Hinata tried to protect him, to be his shield,” Tenten’s voice trails off momentarily before she continues, “And you... You chose to become a shield for her.”

It is as though Tenten’s words unlock his memories, and Neji starts to remember. He remembers the burning pain as the stakes pierced through him, remembers choking on his own blood and Hinata’s pale, tear-stained face as he tried to console her with his dying breath. As he told her that...

Neji’s heart drops as a chilling wave of anxiety clutches his throat, threatening to suffocate him. She knows. Neji feels dizzy – the secret he’s carried in his heart for so many years had been pried out of him by pain and delirium.

If he were dead, his errant confession could, perhaps, have been excused – after all, worse things have been forgiven to the deceased. Only, Neji isn’t dead – and now she knows.

Neji’s mouth feels dry as a frigid wave of fear spreads through his body, seeping into his very bones. They spent years healing their relationship from the rift caused by his father’s death, and now an ill-fated confession may have ruined everything they’ve worked so hard to build, placing an insurmountable distance between them.

Neji knows Hinata loves Naruto – he should have also known to keep his mouth shut.

The door slides open, sending Neji’s heart racing with anxiety. Hinata walks in, carrying several water bottles, and Neji cannot bring himself to look at her.

“Here is more water,” Hinata says softly, placing the bottles on the bedside table.

“Thank you,” Neji murmurs, not meeting her gaze.

“I wonder what’s taking Lee so long,” Tenten says, looking towards the door, “I really hope he hasn’t gone to Gai-sensei’s room again to attempt yet another one of his challenges.”

“Gai-sensei is also here?” Neji asks, turning to Tenten. Her words catch him off guard, although knowing their sensei, he shouldn’t be surprised.

Tenten glances briefly at Hinata before looking back at Neji and nodding. “He has opened the Eight Gates to save us all,” she explains carefully.

Neji’s eyes widen in surprise, “And he lived?”

“Yes,” Tenten nods, “Somehow, he lived.”

Silence falls upon the room as Neji slowly tries to process what he’s heard. The consequences of opening the Eight Gates were hardly a secret, and, knowing Gai-sensei, Neji had always suspected that one day he would give up his life using that technique to protect those he cared about. Yet, somehow, he survived.

“Neji-nii-san,” Hinata’s soft voice distracts Neji from his thoughts, “Your bandages... Here, let me help.”

Still unable to meet her gaze, Neji waits with bated breath as Hinata shifts closer. She leans in, reaching for his forehead bandages, and her long hair ghosts across his forearm. The sensation sends shivers down Neji’s spine, making his heart race. Her hands are soft and cool against his skin, and Neji’s breath catches in his throat as she lightly tugs at his bandages.

“Does it hurt?” she asks, looking at him with worried eyes, “The spot where the seal used to be?”

It takes a moment before Neji realizes what she’s saying.

His cursed mark was gone.

He knows he should be happy – he’d spent years dreaming of the day he’d get rid of the cursed mark, of the day he’d finally be free. Only, now these thoughts do little to quell the unease rising in his chest.

If the seal was gone, does it mean he lost his Byakugan as well?

He has always prided himself on having the strongest, clearest Byakugan in the history of the Hyuga. He could hardly imagine being a shinobi – and even just living his life – without it.

“No,” he finally manages, his voice hoarse and his mouth dry.

Before Hinata can reply, the door to his room flies open, and in marches Tsunade-sama, followed by Lee. Tsunade-sama looks as though she had about two hours of sleep in the last fortnight and entirely too much sake, but that much Neji expects. During peacetime, medic-nin worked long, grueling hours, but during wartime, they were expected to work to the bitter end – and then some.

“Good, you are finally awake,” Tsunade-sama says, walking up to Neji’s bed, “How are you feeling? I have to say, you are stronger than you appear - hardly anyone could have survived that.”

“Uncomfortable, but alive,” Neji replies flatly. “Uncomfortable” is a monstrous understatement, but Neji’s never been the one to complain about physical pain.

“Considering that your internal organs were shredded into ribbons and we had to use chakra glue to put them back together, you should count yourself lucky,” Tsunade scoffs, rolling up her sleeves before placing her hand on Neji’s forearm, “Just a little more damage and it could have been all over for you. Now stay still.”

Her chakra courses through his veins, cool and prickly, and Tsunade frowns before pulling her hand away.

“How much longer do I need to stay here?” Neji asks.

“Until I’m sure that all your internal organs have healed properly,” Tsunade cuts him off, then crosses her arms in front of her chest and adds, “And don’t even think of leaving before I discharge you.”

Neji barely stifles a sigh – the last thing he wants is to spend weeks on end in this hospital bed. He watches as Tsunade-sama picks up his chart from the bedside table and glances over it before pulling out a pen from her pocket to make notes.

“Tomorrow, I am going to have Yamanaka come in and check on your mind,” she says, still looking at the chart, “Just to make sure that the destruction of the seal didn’t have any nasty side effects on your bran. While I don’t think it’s likely, it’s still a possibility we can’t rule out just yet...”

“What about the Byakugan?” Neji interrupts before she can finish, “Has it also been... destroyed?”

Tsunade-sama is quiet for a moment, biting the tip of her pen as she studies his chart again.

“No. No, it wasn’t,” Tsunade says, frowning. She makes another note in the chart before looking Neji in the face, “Do you know why the seal disappeared?”

While Neji cannot be sure, he knows enough of the Caged Bird seal to hazard a guess, but before he can voice his suspicions, Tsunade continues.

“You were dead,” she says flatly, “It was for less than thirty seconds, but you were dead. Fortunately for you, that wasn’t enough time for the seal to destroy your Byakugan - but it still managed to damage it.”

“Damage it?” Neji echoes.

“Yes,” Tsunade nods, setting his chart back on the bedside table, “But, although the damage is fairly extensive, I imagine that with proper care and training, you will be able to restore it to its full potential. But just so we are clear – proper care means you cannot use it for at least a month until the injuries heal. Otherwise, you will only worsen the damage.”

Neji frowns, barely able to stifle a sigh – in all his years of being a shinobi, he’s overstrained his Byakugan only twice and, on both those occasions, was able to use it again only a day later. And now, he has been forbidden from using it for over a month. <i>And who knows how long training to restore its full abilities will take...</i>

It seems Tsunade picks up on his soured mood. Putting her hands on her hips, she glares at him and says, “You should be grateful you are alive at all, with all the injuries that you’ve sustained.”

Before Neji can argue, Hinata’s gentle hand is on his forearm.

“Neji-nii-san,” she says lightly, “When Tsunade-sama clears you, I will help you train your Byakugan like you once helped me.”

All words of protest die on Neji’s lips when she looks at him timidly through her eyelashes and smiles that soft rosebud smile.

“I will help you too!” Lee eagerly chimes in, “In fact, I promise to make five hundred laps on my hands around the village every day that I do not dedicate at least two hours to training with you.”

He never changes, does he? Neji thinks but cannot stop himself from smiling.

“Thank you, Lee,” he says.

“I’m also here to help if you need me,” Tenten adds, resting her chin on her hand, “And I’m sure Gai-sensei would be eager to train with you too.”

“The last thing Gai should be thinking about right now is training,” Tsunade-sama says, “So don’t go around encouraging him. Because if I catch him doing push-ups in the hospital bed just one more time, I swear...”

Neji notices the quick glance Tenten shoots at Lee as she mouthes something that seems awfully like, “I told you so.”

Suddenly, the door to his room slams open, interrupting Tsunade. In the doorway, he sees Shizune, frazzled and disheveled, breathing heavily as if she has just run through the entire hospital.

“Tsunade-sama, we need you in the operating room immediately!” she exclaims.

“I won’t have any time to eat today, will I?” Tsunade sighs, then looks at Neji, “Get some sleep - I will check on you tomorrow.”

“And you,” Tsunade frowns, turning to Hinata, “Didn’t I tell you to go home and rest? You can’t be sitting by his bedside day and night.”

“I’m sorry, Tsunade-sama,” Hinata stutters, bright blush blooming on her cheeks.

“I’ll ban you from the hospital if you don’t listen,” Tsunade adds, making her way to the exit, “So you better do as I say.”

“Well, Neji, you heard Tsunade-sama,” Tenten says, as soon as the door closes behind Tsunade and Shizune, “Looks like it’s time for you to get some rest. We’ll come to visit you tomorrow morning.”

“Bright and early!” Lee adds with a bright smile, “We’ll wake up at dawn and come see you right away.”

“That’s way too early,” Tenten argues, “It dawns at four o’clock; how is he supposed to get any sleep?”

Neji looks at her with gratitude - while all shinobi are intimately acquainted with functioning on very little sleep, on the rare occasion that Neji did have a day off, he preferred staying up late into the night and sleeping longer in the morning.

“Very well,” Lee concedes, “We’ll be here as soon as you wake up.”

“Thank you,” Neji tells his teammates.

Tenten rises from her seat and picks up her weapons scroll, sliding it back over her shoulder. She waives at Neji and heads to the door, followed by Lee, who shoots him a bright smile. They are halfway across the room when Tenten turns and looks at Hinata.

“You aren’t planning to defy Tsunade-sama, are you?” she asks, tilting her head to the side and eyeing Hinata curiously.

“Of course not,” Hinata says hastily, light blush dusting her cheeks, “It’s just that... I’ll catch up with you in the corridor, if that’s alright?”

Tenten nods, and she and Lee walk out of the room, leaving Neji and Hinata alone.

Neji’s heart is pounding in his ears as the wave of anxiety rises in his chest. He knows Hinata better than anyone, and he knows there’s only one reason she stayed behind – she has something to tell him. Hinata doesn’t look at him – her gaze is downcast, her eyes transfixed upon her hands folded in her lap.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay by your side,” she murmurs.

“It’s alright, Hinata-sama,” Neji assures her, “I will be just fine.”

Hinata nods and bites her lip, still looking at her hands. Neji wants to say something, anything to quell his own unease, yet, somehow, his mind is blank. Suddenly, Hinata raises her head and looks him straight in the face.

“Neji-nii-san,” she starts slowly, “I’m very grateful for what you have done for me, but there is something you need to know.”

Neji’s heart sinks as a shiver runs down his spine. He would have been naive to think he could have gotten away with that errant confession. His thoughts are frazzled, and his mouth runs dry as he frantically tries to come up with the words that would convey just how sorry he was for burdening her with his secret.

“The truth is,” Hinata continues before he manages to get a word in, “While I am grateful, I would have been very angry with you if you died.”

A moment passes before Neji realizes what she’s saying, and when he does, he’s surprised by the confusing amalgamation of relief and disappointment that washes over him.

“My apologies, Hinata-sama,” he offers with a slight smile, “I’ve never meant to upset you.”

“Then you better live a long, happy life,” she replies, looking at him with serious eyes. Her expression softens between a heartbeat and the next, and she adds, “Please.”

“I promise,” Neji says.

Hinata studies his face for a second, then nods, “I’ll hold you to it.”

She hesitates momentarily before getting up from her seat. Looking around the room, she asks, “Do you need anything? I could bring you your pillow from the compound – these hospital ones can be really stiff – or would you like some herring soba? I could stop by the cafe before I come to see you tomorrow...”

“Hinata-sama,” Neji interrupts, warmth rising in his chest at her concern, “There is no need - I will be just fine.”

“Ah, very well,” Hinata says, blushing ever so slightly, “But please don’t hesitate to tell me if you need anything.”

“I will,” Neji says. Hinata nods and smiles, satisfied and heads to the exit. In the doorway, she stops and glances at him over her shoulder.

“Goodnight, Neji-nii-san,” she says softly.

“Goodnight, Hinata-sama,” he replies.

Hinata walks into the corridor, closing the door lightly behind her, and Neji’s left alone in his hospital room. It seems the last bit of his energy has left with her, and he struggles to keep his eyes open. It is a losing battle, of course – as soon as his eyelids fall shut, Neji drifts off.

[moonofiron]

I have been thinking about Gintoki since quite a while and the conclusion I have reached is that the goofier a man, the more intimate he can get.

Here's something I've never tried before. It starts with my perception of Gintoki's kinks and collapses into a narrative about how a particular kink will play out when he's with his female SO.

(I think what I have done here is called an "HC" but I am not sure. All HCs I've read are in bullet points and this is... not in bullet points. So idk... I'm just out here tryna get this fucking concept OFF MY CHEST.)

Anime: Gintama

Characters: Sakata Gintoki x whoever you imagine his female SO to be!

Genre: Smut, explicit sexual content, kinks 🥵

Rating: M

Synopsis: Gintoki melts at the sight of her in a plain white t-shirt and panties

Word Count: 2,386

Minors, click here.

I think, above all, Gintoki has a MASSIVE kink for going bareback. But it manifests itself a little differently for him. Internally, he absolutely refuses to cum anywhere else. But he's also super conscious of his partner's needs and will cum anywhere his babe wants him to. It delights him that she's so eager. Even though it leaves him feeling a little unsatisfied, it's not a big deal because he feels so strongly for her. He does love cumming deep in the back of his partner's throat because it feels so similar to what he thinks it would feel like cumming inside her.

It's a tricky kink to work with because under his lazy-bum facade, he actually has a super strong sense of responsibility. This is also why he refuses to have casual sex with just anyone. He's the kind who has a deeply intimate, committed, and long-term relationship with his partner.

His "kink" is a completely unsaid thing though. He will never explicitly talk about it. He loves dirty talk (anything goes, really) but this is one thing he will not say out loud. So, essentially, his partner will never hear him say stuff like "let daddy fill you up/I'm gonna cum inside you/ Daddy's gonna fill up that tight, pretty cunt".

No, he's not shy. Nor is he a prude. He's just a sucker for the quietness around the act of him filling up his partner. He digs the submission of a woman just taking him in fully, without making it into a "kink" or reducing the act to something they both occasionally get off on. He wants his woman to treat it as routine, ordinary, and natural. Almost like aftercare. Nobody says out loud that they want to be taken care of after a rough fuck. It's expected and unsaid. The unsaid but sure nature of filling up his partner is what makes it unbearably initmate for him.

He absolutely can not control the pleasure of being nestled inside her in his most tender, vulnerable, yet powerful moments. He breaks and lights up at the same damn time. His focus is sharp and only on the way her body reacts, not the words they share. He stares intently and deeply into her eyes when he cums inside her, making her flinch at the intensity he is capable of. It is in these moments she fully grasps what he means when he says he owns her.

If his partner does mention him cumming inside her, (eg: I want you to cum inside me/ fill me up Daddy) he will grind his teeth and cover her mouth instantly and harshly, maybe put a couple of fingers in her mouth so she can't speak. If he says something, it'll be along the lines of, "Just shut up and take it," as he thrusts harder and deeper.

He will twitch inside his partner, grow slightly bigger, and cum sooner than usual. Subtle but controlled cues like his grip on her hair getting harder will let her know that this is actually something he really digs.

The first few times his partner and he get down and dirty, he will do anything to please her and in turn, himself. He'll lazily make her sit on his face in the mornings, finger her a lot (anywhere, anytime), make her fool around with toys for him, ask her to rub herself while he stares intently and licks his lips, and let her suck his cock. He'll fuck her when he wants but it'll always be with a condom. He'll let her ride the brains out of him, too. But, always with a condom.

When he absolutely can not take it any longer (say, about 4 months into a relationship), he will break. He will break at the sight of her in plain white panties and a white t-shirt, doing her own thing.

He'll be sitting on his chair, behind the desk. He'll clear his throat to grab her attention. He'll beckon her with his thick finger and she'll think it's going to be their usual fucking and loving. She'll bite her lips and exaggerate the sway in her hips as she walks towards him. The performative nature of the sensual way she walks towards him will make her breathe slightly heavily and the first few baby spots of wetness will bloom in the crotch of her panties.

When she finally reaches him, a smirk will be playing on his lips and his eyes will look sleepy at first. He'll hold her waist lightly and look up at her. She'll look down at him, smiling, a coy finger in her mouth and her other hand on his shoulder.

She'll notice a difference in the way he handles her. She'll notice that he's looking at her with such greed that it's making her falter. She'll sense something is off and ask if everything is ok.

"Hmm," he'll say in a deep voice against her stomach.

He'll slowly turn her around and make her sit on his lap. She'll turn back to look at him wide eyed and smiling shyly. It usually takes a solid 12 minutes of kissing, biting, and frantic touching to get him this hard. She'll still be a little taken aback by Gintoki's seriousness. He's usually goofy and playful or an outright sadistic and sexy beast.

He'll open up his zipper and its cool metal will make her squirm. His warm and fat cock will spring out and she'll feel its sweaty stickiness against her lower back. She'll gasp at and throb for his unusual, unprovoked arousal and quickly reach for his desk-drawer where he stashes all the condoms. She'll take one out and start to open up the wrapper only to have Gintoki take the half-opened condom from her delicate hands in between his teeth and spit it out far into the corner of the room; his hands will never leave her waist.

Her eyes will widen again and she'll start to say something but Gintoki will tilt his head and give her a look that'll make her shiver and shut up. A mix of fear and anticipation will make her stomach drop. She'll be dripping by now and surprised at how less it takes for her to be utterly slick and ready for him.

She'll find it unbearably intimidating to look him in the eye and will turn her head, only the find herself reflected back at her in the mirror next to them. Her nipples will be hard through her t-shirt, her naked legs will be between Gintoki's clothed ones.

Gintoki will use just one of his fingers to slide her white panties to the side and position the tip of his cock at her wetness.

He'll slowly breathe into her ear "I'm going to fuck you raw and deep..."

He'll wait just a moment for her reaction before saying, "or not at all."

He'll put his hand around her chin and make her turn her head to look at him.

“And, you will stay shut about it the entire time, yeah?"

She'll nod her head ever so slightly with parted lips and then bite her lip nervously and unconsciously. She'll have already started moving against the tip of his cock, making it completely slick with her wetness. Her clit will be throbbing in an anticipation she has never felt with Gintoki.

Without another word, he'll thrust himself inside of her in one long and quick motion. A silk moan will escape her mouth; she's never actually felt his warmth inside of her.

He'll fuck her painfully slow; she'll feel his girth stretch her out inch by inch. The sloppy and messy sound of the base of his cock rubbing against her clit after every stroke will be loud and clear in the afternoon quiet; it won't be covered by the usual frantic slapping of his balls against her clit. He'll be holding on to her waist so she doesn't try to move and change the rhythm or speed.

“Do you feel it?”

"Yea.." she'll moan.

“Do you like what you hear?”

“uhum..” is all she'll manage to say. She usually has no issues keeping up with conversations and dirty talk but she'll find it extremely hard to keep up with this particular conversation.

"Let me look at you pinching your nipples."

She'll catch him looking at her in the mirror and will immediately get to work.

"Harder. Don't cheat."

"Yes, sir."

"That's a good girl."

She'll falter at this and her legs will buckle. She'll feel Gintoki's hands hold her as he'll get up from the chair. He'll sit on the floor right in front of the mirror, still buried deep inside of her.

He'll snake his hand around to her clit and rub her agonizingly slowly, all the while fucking her with slow and deep thrusts. His other hand will be on top of her hands cupping her breasts. Her head will be thrown back on his shoulder and her waist and hips will match Gintoki's movements and rhythm. Everytime she'll be about to cum, he'll kiss and nibble at her jaw and stop rubbing her clit, edging her for hours on that day.

They'll eventually stop moving. They'll be panting because they can't take this relentless teasing anymore. He'll pull out and stand up, pick her up in her arms and take her to the futon where he'll lay her on her back. She'll spread herself wide and thrust her hips forward, holding his gaze all the while.

Gintoki will lick his fingers and stroke her swollen clit a few times before he starts to fuck her hard and deep. But, he'll still maintain a slow and steady tempo. The moment she'll start arching her back, he'll pull out and grin at her. Every time he'll pull out, she'll see his cock twitching, aching to be back inside. She'll notice it's equally hard for him to be edging for so long. She'll smirk. Gintoki will narrow his eyes at her. How dare she.

He'll start fucking her again, painfully slow, waiting to strike at the right moment. The moment he feels her back arching again, he'll pull out again. But, this time, instead of grinning at her and waiting for her to stop writhing, he'll slap her clit hard and then immediately rub it hard and fast. She'll go into a frenzy of screams and moans and her entire body will shiver, she will pull him down towards her and wrap her legs around him, his hand still not relenting her clit.

When she'll be completely spent, swollen, and sweating, her hair stuck to her breasts and neck, Gintoki will turn her around. She'll arch her back a bit, just for him. He'll guide his cock in the tight folds of her thighs, straight into her beautiful cunt, and start to fuck her at a slow pace all over again. She'll moan deep into the pillow, her face will be flushed from all the work, and her hands will be trying to reach at the back for his thighs. Gintoki will lie on top of her as he fucks her from behind. The moment she'll feel his weight on her, his sweat on her back, she'll cum around him, gushing, and the noises will get sloppier and louder.

She'll groan his name out loud in the pillow and he'll have turned her to her side by then. He'll put her head on his arm, spooning her. He'll hold her leg up as he'll thrust deep inside of her from behind. He'll hold her chin and turn her face to his to look at her flushed face, her mouth shaped a perfect small o, her eyes closed, eyebrows raised, in a kind of pleasure she's never felt before.

"Open your eyes."

She'll fling open her eyes and find him looking at her with an expression that makes her weak in her knees. She'll buck and jerk as she'll feel him finally going slightly faster with harder and shorter strokes. She'll feel him twitching inside her and she'll clench tighter around him, never breaking from his electrifying gaze that tells her he owns her completely.

A wild guttural sound she's never heard will escape Gintoki's throat. He'll moan her name hard as she'll feel his warmth spreading inside of her in bursts. She'll move to kiss his petal like lips, only to be thrusted once again with such force that her eyes will widen with the suddeness of it. He'll ease out of her slowly, in short thursts, and once he's fully out, he'll lift her leg higher to get a better view of her cunt, messy and slick with his cum dripping out. He'll throb, and be unable to control himself, and give her one last deep and hard thrust again. She'll make a high-pitched squeak at the suddeness again.

He'll stay inside her for a while, throbbing still. He'll be too spent to move but he'll kiss her face and feel her sweaty body with his firm hands fervently.

They'll both fall asleep, exhausted, in each other's arms.

Gintoki will wake up before her. It'll be dinner time. She'll wake up to him by her side in a towel, wet and fresh from his bath. He'll be wiping her legs and thighs with a warm and wet cloth, and smiling while he watches her wake up. She'll start to say something but he'll cut her off and say, "Dinner's ready, doll." He'll kiss her jaw and then her forehead and leave the room.

She'll sit up in bed, her entire body will be aching. She'll notice a packet on the corner of the bed. She'll pick it up and see that it has a morning-after pill, a pregnancy test, and a follow-up appointment with her usual gynaecologist. She'll blush a deep a red when she sees a glass of water by her bed-side.

"When the fuck did he become so...un-lazy? Where has he been hiding this side of him?!" She'll say out loud in disbelief.

//

Afterthougts:

In the first few months, Gintoki will make a conscious effort to get accustomed to his partner's menstruation cycle. He'll make sure he knows the days she's least fertile so he can minimize the risk of her getting knocked up. If that's not intimate and hella caring idk what the fuck is.

[words-etched-in-her-skin]

I have a desperate need to ride Donna’s strap I am weak for her in so many ways

Okayy.. maybe not riding, but will being taken roughly on her sewing desk work for you, anon? 😏 I had way too much fun writing this 🤤 It was written as a little birthday treat for someone, but I hope you'll all enjoy it just the same! ♥️

“Mia cara… are you almost finished in here?”

You almost dropped the spool of thread you had been putting in its respective place when the warm tones of Donna’s voice cut through the air. The soft sound of simple fabric moving against itself as she slowly began to make her way through the large sewing room. You had been given the task of dusting and reorganizing all of her supplies - and had just about finished when she came calling for you.

“Yes, madam.. this is the last of it.”

You raised the small spool between two fingers before leaning over to place it in the small cubby hole that resided in the large wooden desk you had just been cleaning. A sharp gasp falling across your lips as the length of her met your backside. The faintest feeling of her favorite toy under the humble fabric of her dress as she leaned in closer.

“M-ma’am?”

“Shhh, diletta .. It seems you have not been honest with me.”

“I.. how do you mean, madam??”

“Seems today is meant to be a celebration of sorts.”

You took a moment to think, blushing fiercely as you realized what day it was. Of course the clever doll-maker had figured it out - always with a knack for knowing things. You smiled shyly before turning to face her. A hungry look - a single dilated pupil as your eyes met her gaze.

“I’m... sorry madam.. It must have slipped my mind.”

Donna hummed, her long fingers digging through one of the drawers closest to her.

“Seems… I owe you a tiny little present, then.”

A most delightful smirk curling across her lips as she brought up a hand holding a large pair of fabric shears. You knew that she could hear the hitch in your throat - the steady beat of your heart swiftly picking up it’s pace - and you also knew that there was no realm that existed where she would ever hurt you. But that didn’t stop the prickling heat that was now moving relentless across your body.

“I… madam.. Wha-?”

She stifled any words that were deemed to release from your lips as she placed the tip of cool metal against them, only making your heart race even quicker. A slick wetness building steadily in your core as she slowly dropped them, letting their sharpness trace down the front of your uniform.

“Hush, now... do you not trust me, mia cara?”

You swallowed back the thick arousal in your throat, whimpering slightly as sharp blades ghosted over the supple flesh of your inner thigh.

“Of.. of course I do, ma’am. With my life.”

“Mmh.. an appropriate response, diletta.”

She smiled wickedly as she brought the large scissors to the hem of your skirt, a single confident glint to her eye as her smile transformed into something darker. The distinct sound of metal cutting through fabric filling the air as smooth steel sliced up the center of your humble uniform with the utmost precision. You couldn’t stop the soft moan that vibrated deep in your throat as Donna placed the shears on the desk next to her - her experienced hands tearing the last bit of fabric that was closest to your neck - instantly leaving your flushed skin exposed to her.

There wasn’t a single part of your body that wasn’t filled with a stinging heat - that wasn’t engulfed in a fiery blaze so deep that it threatened to turn the whole world to ash. Her cool breath against your skin, the length of her body leaning in as she wrapped a single arm around your waist - lifting your body with ease while the other reached down to rip the thin fabric of your panties from your body. The cooled wood of her sewing table forcing a prompt shiver across your body as it met the heated flesh of your backside.

“Mia bella.. so stunning.. so eager for me.”

“Mmmh… my Mistress..”

You could count on one hand how many times you had ever heard the doll-maker growl, the low tones of it reverberating deep throughout her throat - immediately arousing you. Her strong fingers gripping into the soft flesh of your thighs as she pulled you roughly towards herself. The simple fabric of her dress dropping from her body within mere seconds as she held your gaze.

A late afternoon sun gleaming exquisitely off the shiny black toy that perfectly adorned Donna's hips - feeling your core instantly clench around nothing at just the sight of it… at just the idea of her driving it harder and harder into you. Her dark hair billowing freely over the fine lines of her face like the veil that normally hung there. A sharp cry forced from your lips as she pulled your hips even closer to her, allowing your dripping core to hang over the edge of the desk ever so slightly. The cut fabric of your uniform still hanging loosely from your body as her hands roamed eagerly over you, stoking the flame that bridled it to an almost unbearable level.

“Ah-! Please, Mistress.”

You whimpered as the warmth of her mouth found you.. as she rested the tip of her strap teasingly against your entrance.. as her teeth skated over your nipples and nipped indulgently at your eager flesh.

“Please what, mia cara?”

Kiss after kiss trailing along your jawline and collarbone. Her long tongue tracing up the side of your neck before her teeth found your earlobe, prompting a deep shudder as her breath ghosted over you.

“Tell me how badly you want me.. how much you need me.”

If there could ever be a tone of voice that could make you orgasm on the spot - that could unravel you in a way that you didn’t even know existed - it was the breathy and utterly disarming tone that had slipped so easily off Donna’s tongue, dripping from it like raw honey.

“Mmph, fuck! I need you, Mistress... I always need you.”

She hummed in certain content, placing a tender kiss to the soft skin under your ear before whispering into it one last time.

“Mmmh… Happy Birthday, diletta.”

You felt the world spin on its axis as her lips crashed into yours, blurring as the room around you began to shift - as her tongue danced divinely against you. Your desire spilling out from your aching core as she forced the length of the toy deep inside of it - taking you, claiming you - reminding you of exactly who you belonged to. The width of your legs wrapping securely around her waist as you invited her in - willing her to take as much as you as she could - to fuck you until you didn’t have a single thought left in your head.

And oh, the deep moans that sprang from her perfect lips as she picked up her pace, as the hilt of the harness rubbed generously over her clit. The firmness of her strap delicious against your walls as she forcibly drove it into you, ripping a sharp cry from your kiss swollen lips.

“Ah-! Fuck.. Mistress!”

She growled again, the melody of it rolling over her body like a wave of thunder, compelling the force of her fingernails deeper into the heated flesh of your back as she pulled your body up to meet hers - willing her feverous skin to slide sublimely over yours. Beads of sweat rolling down the curves and hills of your bodies - a most delicious sound of flesh against flesh ringing throughout the room as the pace of her hips picked up even more.

You weren’t even sure of how many moans had been muffled into her perfect lips, at how many scratches had been dragged down the landscape of your scorching back. With beads of crimson trickling down it… with streams of desire dripping down the side of cooled wood beneath you… as Donna’s warm juices pooled steadily within the black harness she wore, desperate to be released.

“Mmmh.. mia cara.. come with me. Let me hear you.”

That was all you needed to prompt the white hot pleasure to spill mercilessly over you - to force wave after wave of infinite pleasure to wash across your body. The length of her strap deep inside you, thrusting into your core at an unprecedented pace as the doll-maker’s hips began to jerk. Her name flying from your lips like a prayer in the night as she pushed you closer and closer to the edge. It was bliss - pure and unfiltered - a prickling heat that started at your head and creeped all the way down to your toes until it was begging for release - until you were certain you were about to lose all ability to function. The fireworks behind your eyes whiting out the room around you, forcing juices to gush for your core just as you heard your name ripped from your lover’s lips.

Her shaky breath against your overly flushed skin as she held you close, allowing your pleasures to ride out before slowly halting her hips. The deep scratches and bites that decorated your body prevalent in the profound heat that resided within them. Soft tender kisses making their way up your chest and neck until her lips found their home back at your own - kissing you deeply, softly - drinking you in as if you were the only other person that existed in the world.

“Mmmh… mia bella.. I trust I did not get too carried away.”

You smiled against her lips, kissing her once more for good measure.

“You could never, Mistress.”

She moaned softly as she returned your tender kiss. Her warm body soft against yours, holding you close as your breaths began to steady - as her long fingers gently cupped your cheek before her gaze met yours - the utter softness of it swiftly causing your racing heart to skip a beat.

“Tell me, diletta… did you enjoy your present?”

You laughed, amused at how she could even ask such a thing.

“Mmh.. Of course I did, Mistress!”

“Good.” She smirked, the undertones of it forcing a second wave of heat to roll unhindered across your body. “Now... if you could be so kind as to bend over, mia cara. I have distinct plans to wreck that exquisite backside of yours.”

[gojology]

Intense Healing Session.

the request :

pairing : caring! healer! fem! reader x gojo satoru hehhehe warnings : cursing, implications of seggs after sum intense kissing, pet names wordcount : 2.0k a/n : yoyo i’m back!! semi-long one for u all. cute request, anon. sorry for late delivery. pls dont rate me a 1/5 on yelp </3 hehe the title is kinda funny LOL

     You’re beginning to hate Satoru.        Surprisingly, it’s not for the reasons people dislike him- he’s a bit of a blabbermouth, never quite learned how to seal his lips just because of how important he was to the jujutsu world. Unsurprisingly, he gets away with everything because he’s attractive and crucial to defeating curses, and there’s no shame in admitting it.       People hate Satoru for his destructive personality, he’s carefree and doesn’t let anything get to him. This may be a good trait for the untrained eye, but look carefully and you’ll see just how hectic he gets. It’s manageable since you don’t have to deal with him at the level of the Jujutsu elders.       You don’t particularly hate him for this, though.       It’s the fact he puts you through so much work, for almost no reason. You’re a healer- something very important to the quaint school that you worked at. Healing abilities are often overlooked, it’s often said that if a jujutsu sorcerer can’t provide offense, then they’re not much of a jujutsu sorcerer. Unfortunately, you have little to no talent in the battlefield, so essentially you’re a meat shield to everyone.      It was a growing occurrence to see him after every business trip, slightly roughed up but not enough to kill him. He comes into the room you share alongside Shoko, almost always when she’s not there, takes his shirt off, and displays a wide variety of cuts and bruises on his back like he’s a museum. You’d scold him, asking him how he’d get such abrasions with his infinity up constantly- but Satoru would hum, unanswering while you’re working your hands on his back.      Maybe you’re overreacting- but something tells you he does this on purpose, perhaps to fuck with you, and you’re bitter about it.     So it wasn’t surprising to see him whistle a sweet tune, hands shoved deep into his uniform pockets, casually strolling into the medical attention room for the fifth time this month.    “Gojo Satoru.” you say his full name aloud, just so he knows how much you hate his presence. Turning to look at you, his face displays innocent shock, but you just know that he’s probably rolling around in the inside seeing how riled up you got just by him stepping into the room.     Drained, lifeless eyes stare back at his childish bright ones.     Gojo places a hand on his chest defensively, “Well, I’ll be, Y/N. When did you want to disrespect your senior?” he snickers before shutting the door behind him. “You mad?”      “Unbearably. Lucky I care for you.” you utter back, venom dripping in your words, you feel like you’re making a fool of yourself as you shove your lunch aside that you had been enjoying on the tiny table next to you, sighing and rubbing your temples, tugging and effectively straightening your coat. “Get on the bed, let me work my magic.”     Looking at you with a shit-eating grin, he whistles, placing his elbows against the mattress, his roughened hands caressing his cheeks. “Working your magic? I’m interested. Tell me more, Y/N. Does this involve... Getting naked, perhaps?”     Staggering, you give him a dirty glare, “Satoru! I’ve been working my ass off like every week to get you all healed up, and you dare be perverted in my-”     “No cursing, lil girl! You wouldn’t want this rubbing off on Yuuji-kun and everyone else, would you? You’d be charged with a felony!” leaving you stunned for a second time- the first time being when his lanky figure strode into the room like it was his room- you don’t even know how to respond. How could one possibly be so... Ungrateful for your work?  Well, then again the elders existed... That was besides the point, though. You’re not even sure if Yuuji knows what the word fuck or shit is.     He drags his finger lazily along the cot, drawing various shapes into existence, giving you a skeptical look. “Not gonna answer? Stumped?”     He broke through your train of thought, and you shake your head. “Satoru, I don’t know any sort of fighting jujutsu, but I will fucking pulverize you and make sure you’ll be dust by the time I’m done with y-”     Butting in, he raises his hand as a way to shut you up. “Honeybun, you’re an amazing jujutsu sorcerer, but I hope you realize why they call me the strongest of all time. If you haven’t noticed, it’s because I have a constant shield. The closest you can get to doing that is maybe poking me.”     Giving him a snooty face, you’re frankly about to push him out of the room with sheer willpower and hatred alone. It seems he realizes this, a moment of adoration flickering across his eyes before finally neutralizing. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop playing with you. You’re so cute when I do though, like a little... Rabid raccoon! How can I not resist?”     It’s difficult to tell if that’s a compliment or an insult, with Satoru, it could be several things. But, you’re still slightly flattered, knowing him he’d go out of his way to lengthen his insult if it was one- just another reason why you hated him. Being called a rabid raccoon was definitely not on Satoru’s top 10 utterly offensive insults.       “Shut up, Satoru. Here, take off your shirt, what did you get yourself into this time?”       He obliges with a nasty grin on his handsome features, hastily yanking off his uniform. Underneath was a very meticulously trained body, toned muscles and all. You can’t help but to also catch a glimpse of his collarbones, which were so defined it looked like it could cut your butter for your morning pancakes. You gulp, blinking, you had forgotten just how well-shaped he was in the one week you hadn’t seen him.       “No need to stare, sweetums.” he chirps, realizing your darkening cheeks. “Feed my ego any more and I’ll probably burst and my organs will decorate your walls. You can donate my body to the local college, they’ll be surprised by how top-notch they are.”       Giving him another stern, but much more sheepish gaze, he snaps his mouth shut, but a triumphant smile replaced his grin in place.      “Please, no gruesome detailing. I’d much rather my cute kitten posters.” you motion to a white cat slumbering peacefully in a basket.      “Looks just like you.” he says.      You close your eyes and pretend he’s not there, choosing to ignore yet another one of his compliments, but your heart thumps faster in your heaving chest. Heaven knows how curious your hands could get if you could see where you were touching-      “Those are my abs, Y/N. I think we’re focusing on my back.” he muses aloud in an almost teasing tone. You can already imagine how obnoxious his face is, opening your eyes hesitantly, blinking to adjust to the bright room lights. Your hands are still hovering above his abs, his gaze is upon yours, looking at you with a mix of speculation and speechlessness. Instead of his unusual smug smirk, there’s an almost coy expression on his features, which shocked you.        “How’d your hands get there? Last time I checked, abs are at the front, not the back, hmmm?”        You grit your teeth, your face flush with warmth at your sudden realization. There was no cheeky retort you could’ve possibly come up with, after all, he was right, how did your hands wander to his abs? You weren’t thinking of doing it. You weren’t interested in him either, but he was attractive. Of course you’d be too curious for your own good.. Yes, that was it..       “Your hands are still on an inappropriate place, Y/N. Except, a lil lower than last time.” he chuckles wholesomely as you jerk up, straightening yourself and clearly sweating, your arm wiping your brow and exhaling a drawn-out and awfully dramatic sigh.       “Give me a break, Satoru. I just, um, you know... Zone out.” your pitch was unconvincing, high-pitched and wavering, bringing your chances of believability to a low.      “So, this is like, the 375th time since you’ve zoned out, lil girl.” he tsks, “You’ve gotta sound convincing if you wanna fuckin lie, you know.”      “I--” you falter, now clearly a shade darker than you were just 5 minutes ago. Your heart beating so rapidly it was almost like you were running a marathon. Why was your pulse so quick? Why was everything in the room a blur besides him? Why couldn’t you focus on healing him? What was he doing to you?      “You haven’t even begun the healing process.” he murmurs, his large hands caressing your arm that was by your side. “Anything you want to tell me, pumpkin? I’m on a tight ass schedule, but I’ll let Ijichi solve that. Spit it out.”       His voice rang out high and clear amongst the hectic fight that was going inside your head, steadying your thoughts. A few moments pass by, studying him, lips moving but no words coming out. Why was it so difficult to say through the insults, you cared for him, and wanted him to be more careful? Was it because of the monster inside of you, who wanted him to get hurt, to spend his time with you, listen to his horrible compliments and giggle at the jokes he made as you worked at a snail’s pace on his back, that weren’t even funny, but was funny because of his presence in the dead room, his boyish laugh very much needed in such days of flatness?      “Satoru..” you finally muster out, his eyes flickering on you once more as he was studying the kitten poster with much boredom. “I just.. Care for you.”      “Huh.” is all he says, face falling and examining the spotless floor. “Is that all?”      Acknowledging his body language, you huff, suddenly filled with the need to defend yourself. “What else did you want me to say? I just feel like you’ve gotten yourself hurt a lot more recently and... I just, want you to be more careful. That’s all.”     “No.” he was barely audible, so you had to lean down to hear him. “No, that’s not it at all. You’re hiding something. Do you prefer me to say it?”     Puzzled, you peer at him with childlike curiosity gleaming in your eyes. What did he know about you that you didn’t? Surely, you knew all about yourself?    “You’re not that fucking dumb, are you?”     “Huh?-” you begin to speak, clearly offended, but you’re stopped.     By none other than his lips.      They’re soft, pillow-like even. A familiar warmth floods inside of you at the sudden physical contact from Satoru, except it’s amplified by 10 times. A moan slips out of your mouth, his hand against your back so suddenly you could’ve sworn it wasn’t there just a millisecond ago. His lips were mashing against yours, as if he wanted to have done this a long time ago. You hungrily push back, teasing your mouth with his tongue that slipped just barely into your mouth before indulging in you, which you thought wouldn’t had ever happened prior to this.      You grip the back of his head firmly, as if he were to escape, other hand tangled in his snow white tufts of hair. Eyelashes fluttering, heavy breathes fanning out both of your noses, your lips were sure to be swollen after this. Your tongues dueling each other, working your mouth against his. His unoccupied hands start to play with the hem of your shirt, and another moan slips out of your mouth, anxious to have progressed so far to the removal of clothing, but at this point, you’re ready for anything.    ‧₊˚✩彡.       “I don’t think Gojo-Senpai and Y/N-Senpai are just in an intense healing session.” breathed Yuuji with a terrified look in his eyes, clutching his arm that was bloodied up, his head leaned close to the firmly shut door.        Nobara looked like she was about to faint, looking at the door as if it was a several feet tall monstrosity of a curse.        “What? What are they doing in there?” Megumi knelt down to where Yuuji was, pushing his ear against the door, and immediately his eyes shot open, a traumatized look in his fearful eyes.        “What the fuck.” 

[corpsekiller]

𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 — 𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐢

𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦. gintoki sakata x fem!reader, kagura x fem!reader (platonic)

𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲. this is so domestic and sweet, nothing bad here except a cold (stay healthy, children!)

𝖲𝖸𝖭𝖮𝖯𝖲𝖨𝖲. kagura is stuck with a cold and you give your best to nurse her back to health. when she accidentally calls you 'mum', gintoki can't help but get a little sentimental about it.

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖧𝖮𝖱'𝖲 𝖭𝖮𝖳𝖤. i really liked the idea that kagura might see the reader as a mother figure and let's be real, gin wants an s/o who loves the kids as much as he does. couldn't be me, the only kids I voluntarily take care of are my younger siblings and i would legitimately murder for them 😀

𝖫𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧. 1.617 words

MASTERLIST

A tottering whimper escapes Kagura’s chapped lips at the cooling sensation of the damp washcloth you gently press to her heated forehead while you wipe the feverish sweat glistening on her temples with the long sleeve of your patterned yukata, gingerly caressing her flushed cheeks to provide some kind of comfort in these long hours that seems to be unbearable for her at times.

Carefully, you clean her reddened nose and throw the snotty tissue into the trash can across the room just as another throaty cough rips through her weakened body. Calm hands fiddle with a loose strand of her hair before pulling the fluffy blanket up to her chin and planting a reassuring kiss to the tips of her freezing fingers. "It's going to be alright, sweetheart. I'm going to take good care of you as long as you need."

No one could have prepared Kagura for this hell. Sore throat, the ache in her chest that grows with every shaky breath she tries to take, the steady trembling of her limbs despite feeling like she might catch fire any damn second. She absolutely hates this and a part of her already regrets her miserable life choices.

Although she still hears your words, still remembers very clearly how you advised her to stay at home until the storm had passed because you already predicted she would catch a cold, Kagura refused to listen and fussed around instead. Stomped her foot and crossed her arms over her chest with an evident pout, much like you did when you were her age and things just didn’t go your way. Ah yes, the struggles of a teenage girl.

‘Yato can’t get sick,’ she told you with a lopsided grin, only offered you a lazy wave as she ran through the door, right into the rain with Sadaharu by her side and her cute purple umbrella carelessly thrown over her shoulders.

Unsurprisingly and despite her utterly naive conviction that she couldn’t get sick, she came home hours later with chattering teeth and wet clothes clinging to her drenched body like a second skin, crying over the biting wind and her missing parasol while you hastily gathered a bunch of clean towels to dry her off and warm her up, hoping to prevent any sickness.

Obviously, you failed.

Now, Kagura is buried under a pile of soft pillows and warm blankets for the third day, stuck in bed with a high fever, a nasty cough, and a runny nose. Occasionally, she manages to groan something about dying and hallucinating floating bowls of rice with eggs until her voice gives out, forces her to stop babbling nonsense and exhaustion finally sweeps her into a deep slumber again.

“Oi! I wouldn’t get near that snotty beast, you are going to get sick too,” Gin calls out, leaning against the wooden door frame with a sterile white mask covering his nose and mouth, definitely supposed to protect him from whatever Kagura caught in the rain a few days ago.

“Shut up, Gin. Someone has to look after her and if your dramatic ass can’t do that, then I will.” You roll your eyes at him and cautiously set the glass of fresh water he gives you together with a tray of cookies next to Kagura’s bed before getting up, cursing under your breath at the cracking of your joints and your sore muscles stretching after sitting on the floor in the same position for nearly two hours, keeping Kagura company and even reading her bedtime stories with so much dedication. Gin couldn’t help but listen too from where he was seated on the couch. “Geez, my knees... I’m getting old.”

After casting one last glance at her sleeping form, you grab your boyfriend by the collar of his black shirt and drag him into the living room, grinning maliciously at his yelps and curses as he desperately tries to escape your iron grip. Disregarding his mask with clever fingers, you quickly shut him up with a gentle kiss on the lips.

“I can’t sleep, Y/N,” Kagura mumbles meekly as she stumbles through the door only an hour later, crossing the room to plop into the cushions of the couch you’re currently sitting on with a hoarse cough. Her eyes are already fluttering close and she slumps against your shoulder in exhaustion, barely able to stay awake much longer than necessary.

The short distance from her bed to you drained her of all energy and you know it’s only a matter of time until she falls back to sleep again, even if she doesn’t want to. So you move your hands around her tense back to steady her, in case she might tumble to the floor when she finally loses consciousness.

“Why is the room spinning so much?” You huff at her confusion, gently tuck her down and rest her head in your lap. Brushing a few strands of vermillion hair out of her pale face, you offer her a small smile filled with affection that seems to brighten your eyes with a reassuring glimmer.

“Don’t worry, you’re just tired. You can stay here with us, I’ll keep you safe.” It’s an unspoken promise with a meaning that weighs heavy on your shoulder, but you carry it anyway. A promise now etched into your tongue to never be broken and you’re sure, you couldn’t bear to break it anyway — to take care of her and always be by her side, no matter what life throws your way.

Because she’s your friend and you love her unconditionally and deep down, you know, she’s somehow awakened your maternal instinct to look out for her — this little girl that just decided to follow Gintoki around and live with him and Shinpachi, with her inhuman strength and her kind heart and her power to conquer even the most guarded heart.

“Thanks, mum,” she slurs, almost inaudible in the delirious state of her jumbled thoughts as she drifts off to sleep and nuzzles her face into your stomach, slender fingers weakly gripping the soft fabric of your yukata as if she fears you might disappear any moment and leave her all alone like so many did before.

Gin, who has been pretending to be reading his magazine, freezes at her words. Just stops turning the page of his shonen jump, maroon eyes locked on one of the drawn panels and the tiny black letters printed in various speech bubbles whilst his brain finally recognizes what exactly Kagura just called you.

Slowly, he lifts his gaze to look at you, scared and quite curious of your own reaction to her words, because he’s not going to lie — he’s equally surprised and excited and maybe, maybe he already knew how much you meant to the kids, knew that your caring nature might have a bigger impact on them as you assume, but hearing that single word? Hearing that word slip out of Kagura’s mouth when she feels the most helpless and broken makes his stomach lurch into his chest in adoration.

Pride and joy surge through every inch of his being, from the tips of his toes to the end of his hair at the sight of you, so utterly shocked, flushed cheeks and wide eyes filled with hot tears threatening to spill any moment. “Did you...?” You stare at the young girl sleeping soundly on your thighs, unbelieving, wondering if you caught a cold too and this is just the result of the fever that causes you to hallucinate such wonderful things.

“I heard it, too.” His smile is surprisingly soft when he gets up from his place, jump magazine still open on the page he wanted to read, lying on the table he’s rounding with one, two steps until he stops right in front of you.

A calloused hand cups your jaw, gently tilts your head up to meet his lips in a sweet kiss, only pulling away to catch his breath and lean his forehead against yours. With a matching grin, you both gaze down at Kagura sleeping soundly in your lap, knees curled to her chest and face hidden in your clothes.

Though, this peaceful moment only lasts a few minutes. With a hand clasped tightly over his mouth, Gin jumps back and almost trips over the table in the process, manages to get away from you just in time before the nasty coughing fit shakes through his entire body and makes it unpleasantly hard to get another gasp of air.

He croaks out a string of foul curses, eyes widened in absolute horror as the realization finally hits him like a pirate ship crashing down from the sky in full speed. "Really? I've been near that kid for only two minutes and I'm the one getting sick?!" A crooked finger points at Kagura, accusatory and deathly and—

Gintoki sniffles and falls back into the couch to fling himself over the cushions in a dramatic pose that could have come straight out of a shonen magazine, in which the cool sidekick dies dramatically to move the storyline. "My time has come," he groans hoarsely and closes his eyes, obviously taking his last breath of air. "I have sacrificed myself for this child and now I must die to save the world. Goodbye, Y/N."

A giggle tumbles from your lips, lighthearted and amused at his silly antics. "You’re just exaggerating all over again, Gin... I promise I’ll take good care of you too.” The flirtatious wink you throw him brings a deep flush to his cheeks, one that not even he can hide. Oh, how he can’t wait to have you as his personal nurse.

[uniquevocashark]

Alcina never warned you about how hungry you'd get.

Surely, it was nothing short of a miracle that you'd mutated to a similar creature to her. The height increase was nice, as were the claws and the myriad of other extras that came along with it. But oh, how your stomach cramped and tightened with every minute between meals.

When you told her about it; about how you'd dream of blood and how you'd wake up with its phantom taste in your mouth, how you'd dream of sinking your teeth through someone's spine and just swallowing every last drop of blood in someone's body.

You felt hot all over and as you talked your stomach tightened again. It helped little that her blood bath was filled behind her and you just wanted to laze in her arms and drink every last drop of whatever she gave you.

"My dearest," Alcina had chuckled, and unbuttoned the back of her dress, "You'll get use to it."

"Its utterly unbearable." You pouted and she laughed fully, throwing her head back as her dress fell from her body.

You pouted harder and she leaned down to kiss your mouth softly. "Come for a bath, darling."

"I might drink it all." You said half jokingly, letting her pull you closer to it. You still had your clothes on and her, her heels and stockings and you moved, mesmerised by her eyes and her smile into the liquid you kept dreaming of.

You looked away, guilty and she only laughed again, grabbing your hip and falling back into the blood with you.

It soaked through your clothes, stained your hands and covered her gorgeously in what you considered her best colour: blood red.

She sliced your shirt away with one finger and dipped the bloody digit into your mouth. Her other hand pulled you closer.

"You'll survive," she murmured, "won't you, sweet thing?"