#i wrote like a beast POSSESSED

[thebiggestfuckgiven]

Ectoberweek 25: Will-o’-Wisps

Rating: T

Warnings: mentions of death, of being buried alive, descriptions of gore, brief mention of vivisection, true crime-esque horror, and general spooky vibes

A/N: I really wanted to do a lil something for the spooky month and what better to write than something for the fandom i’ve been sickeningly hyperfixated on for the past four months. Actual prompt had a two-sentence prompt as well, and i went with both <3

- 💜 -

October 2004

The things everybody tells you about small towns- everyone knows each other, ni things big happens, every day is a slow day, and the biggest local teen hotspots are the walmart parking lot or the big chain pharmacy/corner store —are true. The thing that everyone knows about small towns except for the majority of the people living in said town is that their minds are as small as the local post office.

This is especially true of the teens of Casper High in Amity Park, Illinois.

Sam’s black combat boots stomped against the warm pavement as she ran for the next block. Her breathing was ragged, coming out in harsh puffs of air in the autumn cold. She had gotten an SOS text message from Tucker seconds before the last bell rung.

Normally, she didn’t take the Foley kid very serious. They didn’t know each other that well and they barely hung out save for the couple of school projects they’ve worked on together and those rare lunch hour occasions where he’d sit at her table uninvited. Usually to avoid Dash, Kwan and the rest of their jock entourage.

She stumbled to a stop at a crossroads borderline wheezing. Running was so not her forte. Maybe it was cruel of her, but Same fully intended to ignore his SOS. That is, until she saw Tweedledumb (Dash) and Tweedledumber (Kwan) shove a screaming Tucker into their run-down jeep and speed off.

Hence, why Same was ruining her sickly goth pallor by chasing after them.

She glanced to her left just in time to see the run-down jeep screech to a halt. Christ, the stabbing in her sides was killing her. Sue her for walking. The jeep wasn’t going anywhere anymore. She stumbled a few steps, feet burning, as she held a hand to her sides like that would help her.

Dash jumped out from the passenger side, Kwan following shortly after, from the driver’s side. They opened the back doors on each side, where Tucker was. They cornered him. Dash reached in and was soon pulling Tucker out by his feet. Sam could hear his scream now.

“C’mon, guys, please just leave me alone! Let me go, Dash!”

The Wonder Jocks laughed in response. Kwan slammed his door shut, confident that Dash had Tucker handled now that he was out of the car. Kwan rushed to the sidewalk to roughly grab Tucker’s free arm.

“Guys, this isn’t funny!”

Sam was halfway down the street now and she dreaded the idea of having to run again to keep those two muscle-headed idiots from beating the crap out of the geek that for some reason imprinted on her. Ugh, caring for people was overrated anyways. She could still walk away. Save herself the hassle. No one care about her in this stupid town anyways. So, why should she care?

She slowed to a stop. Her feet ached.

Dash and Kwan were dragging Tucker towards the street corner, which just confused Sam, amidst her inner turmoil. Why even drag Tucker all the way out to his own neighborhood? His house was literally a street away, and there wasn’t even a bare-bones playground here. So what—

“No, no! Don’t put me in there, Dash, Kwan, please! Just let me go, guys, it’s not funny!”

Sam felt a sharp chill run down her spine. Something heavy dropped in the pit of her stomach at the sudden realization of where, exactly, they were.

“Shit.”

She broke off into a sprint as fast as she could.

Shithsitshitshit.

Another thing about small towns is that they all have a well-kept secret. A dark past, usually. Sam found that she thrives on such darkness; on those unwanted and discarded things. As it turned out, Amity Park had a surprising amount of those. She made it her personal business to grow intimate with her town’s buried gutter.

The things she learned were both shocking and, for all her boasting, a little horrifying. Things that would be permanently burned into her retinas. Unseeable and unforgettable. So, she scolded herself for not realizing sooner where they were dragging Tucker to. She would’ve run a little faster, cared a little more, if she had.

She zoomed past the jeep and turned the corner so sharply she nearly fell flat on her face.

Tucker wasn’t screaming anymore, but there were tears streaming down his face as he stared in terror at the behemoth of a house towering over them.

In all its abandoned, festering glory: the infamous Fenton House. Even in bright daylight, the house was obscured in awkward elongated shadows, made worse by the house’s freaky, Frankenstein-esque structure. As if imitating a child’s building blocks tower, there were partial structures jutting out of the house’s main body. They creaked in the cold wind, threatening to snap off and crush any trespassers. At the very top, there was a round dome of sorts with something resembling letters across it. They were black with rot now. Unreadable.

Sam wasn’t a fearful person, but she was a believer. The Fenton House was more than haunted. She’s read enough testimonies to not take it lightly. People have gone missing in that house. Hell, they’ve been found dead in there. She may not be friendly with Tucker, but that didn’t mean she was about to leave him to a tragic fate.

Body running on a sudden burst of adrenaline, she grabbed the nearest thing she could find (a sizable stick) and marched towards the two jocks.

“Hey!”

All three of the boys turned to look at her. She stood two steps below them, resolutely ignoring the way the house seemed to want to swallow them whole. Tucker’s terrified face shifted into one of pure relief. A new wave of tears was visibly threatening to spill over.

“Sam,” he croaked.

Dash barked out a laugh.

“Samantha Manson? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Hey, wanna help us lock this dweeb in the Fenton House?” Kwan smiled brightly, pointing at Tucker.

Sam scowled. People always confused her apathy for cruelty. She hated it.

“It’s Sam, and like hell I do. Drop the nerd, assholes, or else,” she said, pitching her voice lower in an attempt to sound intimidating.

Maybe she should’ve spent her time running thinking up a plan instead of hating on Tucker for making her run in the first place. She clutched the stick in her hand tightly.

Kwan scoffed.

“No way. I just said we’re gonna lock him in the house.”

“Yeah! We wanna know what happens when you put a techno dweeb with murder ghosts,” Dash said, smiling cruelly at a Tucker.

“He short-circuits. It’s not impressive. Let him go.”

Dash must’ve realized, finally, that Sam was being serious. He narrowed his eyes at her, the stick in her hand, and smiled.

“Or what? You’re gonna hit us with the creep stick? Ha. Last I checked, Sam, girls don’t have the balls to pull that off, so why don’t you get lost and forget you were ever here,” Dash said before adding to Kwan, “And Paulina says I’m not a gentleman.”

It was Sam’s turn to smile. She went up a step as she spoke.

“Like any girl would let you get that close, Dash. Besides, I promise mine are bigger than yours. Here, I’ll prove it.”

Before he even had time to blink, Sam jabbed the stick hard into Dash’s crotch. A gentlemanly oof broke past his lips and he let go of Tucker’s arm to clutch at his wounded pride.

“Augh, bitch.”

Kwan also let go of Tucker to check on his friend. Sam didn’t waste a second and grabbed Tucker’s hand.

“Run.”

They bolted down the stairs, Tucker nearly slamming into her from the sudden force.

“Sam, I didn’t think— I mean— shit, thank you. I thought- Ah!”

“Shit. Let me go, jackass!”

They had barely cleared the Fenton House’s shadow when a large, thick arm slammed into Sam and Tucker’s bellies as Kwan— just Kwan —grabbed them by the waist and lifted them up.

Note-to-self: never piss off a linebacker.

Sam knew Dahs and Kwan were big for their age, being football players and all, but jesus fuck this was insane.

She kicked and punched for her freedom, but either rage was a hell of a pain nullifier or her punches were child’s play.

Crap, and she dropped the stick when he grabbed them. Just her luck.

“You better let us go right now, Kwan!”

“Or what?”

He was effortlessly taking them up the stairs and— oh that’s the door.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, they— they can’t actually lock us in. There’s no key. We-we can just leave,” Tucker whispered, panicked.

“You don’t know much about the Fenton House, do you?”

Sam’s voice was small. She felt small.

They were about to be locked in a horror house.

Dash opened the door. Sam didn’t even see him get there.

“Sayonara, losers. Have fun in the Fenton House.”

The world tilted and blurred for a split second, Sam’s stomach lurching at the weightless sensation, before she and Tucker landed hard on the linoleum floor. Pain shot up her elbow and hip. Beside her, Tucker groaned.

“If you even make it the whole night! Ha!”

Bam!

Tucker scrambled up at once, but as soon as his hand touched the doorknob a sound like a lock sliding into place echoed throughout the empty house.

“Wha…”

Sam waited with bated breath. Then—

A low droning sound buzzed across the floor, seeping through Sam’s hands in an odd pins-and-needles sensation. Red emergency lights flickers throughout the house, bathing everything in muddy crimson, and the droning sound was replaced by the most horrifying screech of twenty-year-old rusted metal scraping against itself.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Thick sheets of metal began dropping over every conceivable entry. Including the windows and, of course, the door. Sam pulled Tucker back by the collar of his shirt just in time to keep his hand attached.

Tucker yelped, clutching his hand close.

“What the fuck—”

Warbled, distorted speech boomed from somewhere in the house, the voice and the words long ruined by time. It was like someone was trying to speak underwater. The message was only a few seconds long, but it was disgustingly haunting. Sam knew exactly what it said.

Ghost attack imminent. Fenton Security measure Christmas Ham activated.

If she remembered correctly, the measure lasted six hours. But the last time it was activated (that anyone knows of) was five years ago. Who knew how much the technology had deteriorated at this point. They could be here for a whole day.

Sam broke from her thoughts to glance at a hyperventilating Tucker. She couldn’t blame him. The Fenton House was creepy enough on the outside. Inside? With flickering red lights? Sam was making an active effort not to throw up from the fear writhing in her intestines.

The shadows kept moving in the corner of her eyes, she swore she kept seeing a green glow (but she couldn’t tell where from), and it was freezing cold. Colder than it was outside, which should be impossible, but it was the Fenton House. Impossible was inconsequential.

Sam shuddered. They had to find a way out.

“Tucker—”

“Sam- ohmygodSam- this is- I mean what the fuck was that? We’re literally trapped here. In a tomb with linoleum floors. Shit, and you’re trapped, too, cuz of me. I shouldn’t have sent you that text. Fuck it I shouldn’t have flunked Dash’s essay. Now we’re gonna die here and—”

“Tucker!”

Sam grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him lightly. Their eyes met, both wide with incessant panic.

“Calm down,” she spoke slowly. Tucker gulped and nodded shakily.

“Okay, okay, yeah.”

“Breathe. You’re good with computers and stuff, right?”

Tucker scoffed, but more in a self-deprecative way rather than an offended one.

“Sure am. It’s what gets me in trouble, isn’t it?”

Sam shook him again.

“Forget that. We need good with computers. The Fentons were notorious for their unorthodox advancements in technology. Supposedly had patents on really futuristic shit. Most of it buried, obviously. But they were good enough that their security system still activates nearly twenty years after their departure.”

Ridiculously good, she thought bitterly.

There was a moment of weighted silence as they looked around the house. The lights, the rusted yet intact panels over the windows. It was eerily quiet. She stepped a bit closer to Tucker, who thankfully didn’t say anything about it.

“Yeah, alright, okay,” he muttered to himself before clearing his throat. “The-there should be, uh, a circuit breaker somewhere. We could cut off the power—”

“Won’t work,” Sam stated, eyes furtively glancing around them. She had the weirdest sensation they were being watched. “The town cut the power away from the Fenton House ages ago. It runs on some kind of external power source, but nobody knows what.”

Sam kinda hoped they didn’t get to find out.

“Shit. Man, what the fuck. Who the fuck were these people?”

Sam let out a manic sort of laugh. The hysteria was boiling up in her like toxic chemicals.

“Do you want the short answer or the long one?”

“I have a feeling we’re gonna be here a while. Long answer?”

A pause.

“We should find a way out.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them moved an inch. They stood in the middle of the living room. A trashed one at that. Although, looking closely from where they were, the whole house looked trashed. Wasn’t the place SWATted?

She spotted a flash of green in the hallway, right there in the corner of her eye, and snapped her head towards it with a small gasp. There was nothing there.

“Hey,” Tucker said softly. “Let’s check out the windows for loose panels or something and you can tell me about the Fentons’ own loose panels.”

Her mouth went dry, but she nodded.

“Sounds good, yeah. So, uh, what do you know about the Fentons?”

Tucker shrugged and went towards the first window, by the door. Sam followed closely by. He didn’t mention it.

“What everyone else knows. Mad scientists who went so crazy after their son’s disappearance that they tried to summon him from the afterlife. They got so obsessed that they never left the house and just, died here, waiting for their son to come back. Pretty sad.”

That window was a bust. So was the next, as well as the door. They ventured into the hallway. There were a few square and rectangle imprints on the walls, but only one hanging frame left. With a picture. Hands shaking, Sam reached up and snagged the picture from where it was, careful not to cut herself on what was left of the glass.

It was a family picture. A wall of a man stood at the back with a practiced, dashing smile. To his left and a little below him was a woman with short, bright red hair. They were both in brightly colored hazmat suits, goggles hanging around their necks.

In front of them were two teens. A girl with bright red hair as well, but styled much longer. Next to her was a boy, younger and slightly shorter than her, with black hair. They were all smiling wide and bright, except for the boy. His was more hesitant, not quite reaching his eyes.

Sam pointed at the young girl.

“Did you know the Fentons had a daughter, too?”

Tucker’s eyebrows went up slightly.

“No… Something tells me I won’t like why.”

“You won’t. Um, kitchen?”

Sam saw another green flash and was anxious to get away from it. They bee-lined to the kitchen, and Tucker checked the windows there.

“So… There’s a few things you got right. The Fentons—” Sam pointed at the two adults in the picture “—were renowned scientists. They did some impressive breakthroughs. Like the kind they still teach in universities, but with a disclaimer attached. The more they went into their work, though, the more obsessed they got…” she trailed off in a whisper, tensing.

The house was creaking.

Tucker stopped in his tracks, too, eyes wide but lips pressed tightly together.

Nothing happened. The house stopped creaking.

Tucker let out a slow breath, eyeing the cabinets.

“Think there’s anything edible left around?”

She glared at him sharply.

“If you open any fridge or cabinet doors, I’m leaving you here alone. This place is bad enough, we don’t need to add rats or rotted food to the list.”

Tucker pouted but conceded.

“Fine, I’ll just starve. Keep telling me about the creepy doctors and their stupid creepy house while we check upstairs.”

Sam sighed in temporary relief. She didn’t think she could handle seeing a fridge full of maggots. Even if it has been almost twenty years.

They continued up the stairs, carefully, and Sam went on with the Fenton tragedy.

“The Fentons started growing obsessed with other dimensions. Specifically… the afterlife, and its inhabitants.”

“Like… ghosts?”

Sam nodded.

“Exactly like. They became convinced they could create a doorway into the afterlife, at the cost of their reputation. They got ostracized by the academic community once they started referring to themselves as ‘ecto-scientists’.”

“Yeah, who wouldn’t. Bunch’a wackos,” Tucker muttered as they ventured into an organized room with cool colors. Light blue walls, light green bed sheets coated in blankets of dust, so the only reason Sam knew they were light green was because she’s seen pictures of what the room looked like twenty years ago. She ignored the uneven pattern of small dark spots on the wall.

It was the girl’s room. Jasmine Fenton’s.

Tucker went straight for the window, but Sam hung back near the entrance.

“They didn’t actually open a doorway, right?”

His voice broker her out of her thoughts. She blinked.

“Hm? Oh, uh, allegedly, yeah.”

This house probably sat on an open portal. There probably was an infestation of something murderous in it. Sam shook the thought away. She’ll drive herself crazy worrying about that.

“Supposedly,” she continued. “The doorway was one of their patents. They had the science backing it up and everything. But they… There were rumors, around the time the supposedly opened the doorway, that there was an accident in the house involving their youngest. Daniel Fenton.”

Tucker frowned at the blocked window. A bust. They made their way to the next room. A queen bed bare of any bedsheets, and a large chest of drawers with an equally large mirror attached to it. The Fentons’ room. It had an extra window.

“What happened to Daniel?”

Sam shuddered, goosebumps breaking out across her arms. The room got colder, so much colder than it had been. A soft crackling sound broke out, like frost taking over with a vengeance. She opened her mouth to speak but her breath got stuck in her throat.

She closed her mouth. Breathe. Another flash of green, this one brighter than the others. Breathe. It was so cold, her teeth started chattering.

“T-t-t-tucker—”

“Y-ye-yeah, I’m-m ignoring it,” he said simply, tugging at the panels.

Fuck, how can he ignore this. Sam was so uncomfortable, consumed by such a sudden unease, she wanted to claw off her skin. She tried to ignore it anyways.

“Daniel— jesus I’m freezing —he was out of school a couple of days after neighbors heard a scream. That same night, the power went out in the whole town, except for the Fenton House.”

The freezing cold seeped away, leaving behind a frost pattern that didn’t melt on the mirror despite the warming room. Sam blew out a breath, sending out a silent thanks.

She frowned, unsure why she did that.

“A lot of people theorize,” she went in, rubbing the remaining cold in her fingertips away. “That one of two things happened that night. One, a backfired experiment drove the Fentons all the way crazy to the point that they started experimenting on both their kids, thinking they were ghosts.”

“Wait, both of—”

“Two, Daniel died because of said backfired experiment and his parents somehow managed to either bring him or his ghost back.”

None of the windows opened. They started for the next room.

“That’s… actually insane. And what do you mean, both their kids?” Tucker stopped for a moment, meeting Sam’s eyes.

“Did something happen to their daughter, too?”

Sam pressed her lips into a thin line. That’s the part rarely anyone knew about the Fenton horrors. Daniel wasn’t their only kid. He certainly wasn’t their only victim.

“I’ll get there,” she replied instead, looking away. “It only gets worse.”

“Christ,” he muttered.

They walked onwards.

“A couple of weeks after that, Daniel disappeared. But in those weeks, the Fentons became obsessive, borderline manic, with ghosts. Their nature, their morality. How to trap them, contain them… kill them.”

They were nearing then end of the hallway, where the last room was.

Tucker shuddered, sporting his own goosebumps.

“I don’t like the way you said that.”

Sam grimaced, sticking close to him once more.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad. What’s worse, the Fentons called off the search party after just one night. They claimed they didn’t want false hope, they just wanted to lay their son to rest. They buried an empty casket, and Daniel hadn’t even been missing three full days.”

Her voice was hollow.

“Shit. They…”

“Killed their own son because they were convinced he was a ghost? Most likely,” she said bitterly. As far as true crime went, Amity Park’s dark secret was the worst she’s ever read.

Neither said a word. For one long minute, intentionally or not, they remained quiet, mulling over the terror a kid must feel when they realize their own parents saw them as something to be killed. And to think, they were standing in the house where it happened. Where two parents killed their son. Allegedly.

And their daughter…

As if reading her mind, Tucker quietly asked, “What about the girl? It gets worse doesn’t it?”

Sam swallowed, her mouth dry and throat sore.

“They—” she sighed. “After their son ‘becoming a ghost’, they got paranoid. Extremely so. If one of their kids was a ghost… They couldn’t stand the idea of having an imposter in their own home. There were reports of screams two nights after the funeral. Like, really awful screaming that went on for nearly an hour, I think. Authorities broke into the house after multiple calls to find the Fentons in the basement and their daughter on a table just… cut open. She died before the paramedics could get to her.”

Again, neither said another word. Sam wished she’d run faster. Hit Dash harder. This house was tainted in blood and betrayal.

Tucker clutched at his chest and Sam realized his breathing was short and sparse. Crap.

“Tucker—”

“I fucking,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath. “Hate that we’re here. We’re trapped in like they were, but they— Fuck, they were kids. Their kids. Who does that.”

“Tucker, breathe,” Sam insisted lowly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He nodded, but only got a few gasps of air.

“I’ve been t-trying to hold it together but I just can’t— what if we can’t find a way out. What if we die here.”

“We’re not gonna die here,” she stated fiercely despite being unsure of it herself. “If the windows are a no go then we’ll just find a way to deactivate the security system, okay? We’ll be fine.”

Tucker nodded again, quiet.

It took another few minutes until he finally got his breathing under control. Sam squeezed his arm comfortingly, giving him a small smile. They’ll make it.

He returned the smile without a word and turned to the last room. They had windows to check.

She suspected it was Daniel’s room. It was the only one they hadn’t seen yet. Tucker tried to turn the knob but it didn’t budge. She frowned. Weird… thinking about it, all the other rooms had been wide open.

“Rusted?”

Tucker shook his head, shaking off another involuntary shudder. Sam suppressed her own. It was getting colder again. Tucker tried again to open it. No dice. The knob wasn’t budging. He let go of it, hissing through his teeth as he rubbed his hands together.

“The metal is freezing. It, uh, must be something with the heating.”

Sam gave it a try and immediately drew her hand back. Freezing was an understatement. A second longer and she would’ve gotten the world’s worst case of freezer burn.

“Tucker, I don’t think we’re allowed to go in this room,” she whispered, hugging herself to keep warm.

He gave her a look like she was crazy.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That’s Daniel Fenton’s room. All the other rooms were open but this one—”

“—is locked.”

“No. Look at the handle. There’s literal frost on it. There was frost on the mirror in the other room, too. I think—”

“If you say ghost.”

Sam glared at him.

“After everything I told you. Scratch that, haven’t you been feeling all the weird stuff in this house? The creaking, the frankly extreme cold spots, the fucking creepy green light!”

Tucker’s eyes went wide at that, mouth dropping open.

“I-I didn’t think you could see them. But that— that doesn’t mean—”

The house gave a violent creak, causing the floor to rumble threateningly. The temperature dropped drastically, covering the entire hallway in a light frost.

Sam’s teeth immediately started chattering from the cold.

“This is too much,” Tucker whispers, that underlying panic settling back in.

Impossibly, finally finally finally, they both saw the green flash at the other end of the hallway, flickering desperately before disappearing.

“Tuck,” Sam let out, mesmerized, overtaken by the overwhelming urge to follow that light. An itch she had to scratch, to claw at until it broke open. “He’s here.”

She didn’t know how she knew that, but she’s never spoken truer words. This she knew with absolute certainty.

“Sam.”

He was struggling not to fall for the light, but he couldn’t ignore this forever. Sam thought he’d be an idiot to do so.

She moved forward without another word. Shortly, she heard Tucker follow after.

When they reached the stairs, another flash of light burst to life at the landing, flickering that desperate staccato.

They continued to quietly follow the light wherever it appeared. It led them down the hallway of missing picture frames. Sam clutched the picture in her pocket. They reached a closed door. It was colder in this area, but the door knob was warm. It opened easily to reveal stairs to a basement showered in white fluorescent lights.

They went down the stairs with no hesitation, following that green light that was growing more and more desperate with each step they took. At the bottom, they were greeted by an empty expanse of white floor.

There were various metal tables, but all devoid of any machines or materials that one would expect in a lab. Because no doubt that’s what this basement was. There were discarded cords and metal scraps scattered across the room. But most notably, there was a large, round arch-like structure at the center of the furthermost wall. It was huge, its top scraping the basement ceiling. It had an indent, with two metal panels that interlocked in the center. As if it were a… door.

“Sam… is that—”

“Tucker, look.”

The little flash of green stopped by a blue button on the wall. It flickered swiftly, faster than any of the other times before it went out entirely.

They stayed there, standing, for a moment.

“Are we… are we about to find a dead kid’s twenty-year-old decayed corpse?”

Sam nodded shakily, not believing it either.

“I think so.”

They still didn’t move. God, it was so cold. She couldn’t feel her fingertips.

“What if something happens to us?”

“The thought crossed my mind.”

Two dead people found in the house during its abandonment. Three missing.

“And?”

She looked back at him, a soft smile edging its way onto her face.

“He deserves to rest. Doesn’t he?”

Tucker glanced between the blue button and the closed, arch-like door. Determination set into his features. He nodded.

They went towards the button. Tucker settled his hand over it first, Sam placing her hand over his. Their eyes met.

“This had to have been the world’s worst nap.”

Sam snorted and pressed his hand onto the button. The technology down here must be in better conditions because the effect was instantaneous. Concrete scraped against concrete as a rectangular hole opened up in the center of the lab.

From where they were, they could see it. A homemade metal casket that weirdly resembled more of an iron maiden. They found him. Daniel Fenton. He could finally, truly rest.

That’s when the pounding began.

Sam and Tucker turned to each other in horror. She felt a visceral tug in her gut she nearly threw up then and there. Instead she ran to the metal casket, dropping to the ground halfway there so she slid across the floor. The pounding grew louder, and it was definitely coming from inside. Tucker was frozen stuck by the button.

It only gets worse.

A faint sound, behind all the pounding. Sam leaned closer, listening. Her stomach dropped. Her head snapped towards Tucker, eyes a desperate frenzy.

“He’s crying. He- He’s still- o-oh my g- Tucker, help me get him out!”

This broke him out of his horrified stupor and he kneeled on the ground next to her. His hands were shaking.

“What do we do? What do we do?”

“Fuck, idunnoidunno- uh, grab, shit, shit, go to the other side. Maybe we can lift the lid.”

Stumbling, trembling, Tucker did as he was told and crawled to the other side. But he saw what was on the lid. Fuck.

“There’s a lick. Sam, it’s locked.”

She looked back up at him on the verge of tears.

“What! No, no it can’t be- it—”

“Just, hold on. I’m gonna go back upstairs. Maybe there’s something we can use. I’ll be back, I promise.”

She got the feeling he wasn’t really talking to her. The pounding quieted down but there was a muffled sound. A strained whimper.

“Shit,” Tucker whispered before running out and up the stairs.

Sam sniffled and laid a hand in on the biting cold metal of the casket.

“We’re gonna get you out,” she whispered, wiping at the tears streaming uncontrollably down her face. “I don’t really understand how this is even possible, but we’re not gonna leave you here.”

There wasn’t a response. Not a whimper or a knock. She was gripped by the fear that maybe they were too late. Twenty years buried and they were five minutes too late.

Tucker came stomping down the stairs, taking two at a time. She looked up to see he had an honest-to-god metal bat in his hands. Fully intact and not rusted at all. His hat was askew and his eyes seemed wild.

“He- he helped me find it. Nearly ran all over the house,” he said, panting heavily.

“Hurry up and break it,” she begged, not bothering to disguise the desperation in her voice.

Without another word, Tucker aimed the thicker end of the bat downwards and plunged it against the lock.

It broke apart with a resound clang.

“Help me with—”

But Sam was already crossing to where he was. Kneeling, side by side, they gripped the edges of the casket and lifted. A cloud of freezing cold air puffed up, obscuring their vision for a few seconds. They couldn’t see if they really did save a boy’s life, or if it was just his corpse playing tricks on them. But they heard heavy breathing coming from rattling lungs and not from either of them.

They’d both been holding their breaths.

The cloud dispersed. In front of them lay a young boy with matted white hair, brilliant green eyes drowning in tears and a grotesque muzzle caked from within with old and fresh blood. Metal clinked against metal. His wrists were chained to the casket. His knees scraped and bloodied from banging on the lid.

Tucker immediately removed the muzzle, which thankfully wasn’t locked. Sam’s heart broke. Shattered. The boy’s cheeks were caked, blanketed, with that same mixture of blood, his lips horribly scarred.

He sobbed, screwing his eyes shut against the bright lights.

“Thank you,” he rasped. His voice scraped against his throat.

Tucker and Sam held his hand. They cried with him.

“You’re safe with us.”

He always would be.

[everydaylouie]

happy halloween! here's a spooky song i wrote + recorded yesterday. lyrics under the cut!

Guy:

I don’t feel quite like myself Inside I’m fighting with somebody else Blacking out, waking up with no memory Blood on my hands in the middle of the street

Demon:

This guy’s a vessel of the highest degree No-brainer, got no brains and no self esteem The perfect host for my unholy needs With whom I’ll carry out the most devilish of deeds

Guy:

I’m possessed My mind is not my own Demon: I’ve got him on the phone You’re under my control Guy: I’m possessed Oh now what have I done?

Demon:

Oh, this is so much fun With you under my thumb You’re possessed! Guitar/Bass solos

Guy:

I’m possessed There’s voices in my head

Demon:

I’ve got him seeing red You’re under my control

Guy:

I’m possessed I ate the local priest...

Demon:

Ooo, I’m such a little beast! Now let’s go have a feast

[earthtooz]

ik ur in ur reo phase BUT HEAR ME OUT EARTH ONLY YOU CAN DO THIS

rin ACCIDENTALLY publicizing ur relationship bec mf got jealous as hell when ur face appeared in the kiss cam IN HIS GAME??????? WITH A RANDOM GUY AND WAS HE FUMING??? YOU AND I KNOW HE WAS THROWIN HANDS

thats all

I'M HEARING YOU OUT. warning for unrealistic scenario, i wrote this in like 20 minutes so it's unedited :p apologies for any mistakes.

imagine being rin's secret partner, the one he keeps behind closed doors because he values you too much to let the invasive eyes of the internet see. he values your relationship too much to let it get tarnished by social media, so he hides any affiliation with you like his life depends on it, only to come home and shower you with the adoration and affection he wishes he could show to the rest of the world.

in the spotlight, he is itoshi rin, japan's prized striker, their golden player, but when he's out of the spotlight, he is your lover. the man who drapes himself over you when things get too rough and he needs a breather. he is yours to cherish, where you have to change your phone wallpaper every other week because there's so many good photos of you two. he is yours to love, he is yours to go to when you feel too lonely, he is yours.

but also imagine, itoshi rin's jealousy and possessiveness no longer being able to rest at bay. it'd been accumulating for the past few weeks, this desire to show you off and boast that it's him who gets to know you like no other.

then the cup overfills, his jealousy tearing him by the seams that he loosely stitched together to withhold this carnal beast resting within him.

all because of a damn kiss cam.

you had been sitting in the vip section of the stadium- where special members are granted tickets, and even though you tell rin that it's fine for you to just sit in the general area, he refuses and tells you that he's bought you the ticket anyway. leaving you with no room for arguments. well. not that there was any to begin with.

anyways, you'd just so happen to sit next to someone who bought vip tickets with no affiliation with any blue lock members. you think he's just a die hard fan, so when he asks you if you like them, you lie and say that you won these tickets at a raffle.

the guy wasn't the most favourable person ever, in fact, you found yourself awkwardly responding to what he was saying, sometimes giving him short and succinct replies because of how... weird... he was. not to be disrespectful but you did not like his vibes. you just hope these 90 minutes can be over quickly.

yeah well, how funny is it that the kiss cam lands on you and the insufferable guy beside you?

you're mortified when you see it on the screen but the person beside you doesn't warrant the same reaction. immediately, he turns to face you, anticipation heavy on his features. in fact, he looks rather... excited...

"no, no, i have a boyfriend, i-" you begin abruptly as he leans in and you have no choice but to helplessly lean back, evading his lips and delaying it as much as you can. you even try rejecting him by frantically waving your hands, panicked and unsure of what to do.

until you hear him.

"back. the. fuck. off!" comes a shout from the pitch; the voice very familiar to your ears that you can't help but instantly relax from hearing it.

your seat was relatively close to the field which meant that those around you could hear the distinct voice of itoshi rin ripping through the air, fury evident and baring its fangs as he all but punches the barrier with each word.

however, everyone in the stadium could see itoshi rin as all cameras pan to him, witnessing his wrath as he shouts from the top of his voice. everyone around you is silent and you don't know whether you want to shrivel up into the ground or run to him and embrace him as tightly as you can. to find sanctuary in his warmth, away from the pushy guy who can't wrap his head around the idea that no means no.

itoshi rin decides for you, effortlessly jumping over the (considerably high???) barrier and making a beeline for you, skipping some stairs. thank goodness for a side seat because he comes to a stop before you, adrenaline still coursing through his veins as he looks at you with heated passion, huffing and puffing.

"rin?" you whisper. he doesn't hear it, looking up at the various stadium screens to see if the kiss cams were still on you. smirking in satisfaction when he realises they are, rin all but pulls you up from your seat and kisses you with so much intensity and fervour that you feel lightheaded. very much so.

the stadium is cheering but you can't focus on it, not when rin's holding you to him so closely, practically trying to meld you to him. not even trying to push him away is enough to snap him out of whatever primal instinct has taken over him, so you grab his face and jerk away from him, not wanting to get too carried away.

before you can utter a word, rin looks behind you, and the coldness in his expression says everything you need to know.

he doesn’t care about dignity at this point. he just needed the world to know that you were his.

"you're dead if you try that again, you lukewarm fuckface," he then turns to you. you shiver from the intensity of his gaze. "i'll kill him next time," he promises before hugging you close to him once again, practically glaring at the cameras. "i'll kill anyone who tries to get to close."

THANK YOU FOR THIS ANON would u believe me if i said i'd been waiting for an opportunity like this? well i'm speaking the truth and i'm so glad u gave me the opportunity i've been waiting for AYEEEEEEE COME BACK ANY TIME YOU ARE SO WELCOME ON THE EARTHTOOZ BLOG, PRETTY <33

—

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[kaicubus]

Golden Hours | Urogi

──────────────────────────────────₊˚⊹♡

warnings ✩° :  18+ smut, fucking from behind, size difference, sex with a demon obvi, cursing, calling reader toy names, creampie, a bit of a breeding kink, cervix kissing, possessiveness, praise praise praise, consensual sex, treating reader like a toy/ragdoll, biting and marking.

pairing ✩° : urogi x fem hashira!reader

premise ✩° : in your chance to flee from hantengu, his most happiest clone ends up finding you. with the ground nor air being safe from his territory, you’re met with the chance to fight him mid air, but quickly realize that your life is nothing but a toy meant to be played with. to him, some toys are meant to break.

word count ✩° : 5.9k (holy shit)

authors note ✩° : 3/4 LETS MAKE IT BACK HOME SOON!!! i realized ive never explicitly said that these clones are taller than the reader, but they are. i figured it out btw and from now on you guys are my succubabes or succubabies depending on which one i feel, so no anon its just...succubabe...yk?

©kaicubus do not steal

part one here!

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Was this the same demon from before? There was no way. The demon standing in front of you looked no where near as miserable as he did before. Rather than a look of dejection and fear, the demon smiles, his golden eyes glistening with delight. You’re unable to look away from his horns and golden eyes as his smile just grows wider and wider. Was it really the same demon who was crawling on the ground before?

Except, only now, this demon had the ability to fly. The ground was no longer safe, and that meant on all levels, you were certainly not. Upon looking closer, the demon’s feathered, burgundy wings weren't the only avian trait he had as his arms were replaced by a talon-like appendage complete with a soft, yellowish, scaly texture. There was only one clone Hantengu was capable of creating that looked like this, and it was Urogi, the demonic representative of joy.

The mere sight of his demonic appearance makes your chest tighten. How could there be such a beast hidden inside a frail, old man? Urogi was tall, boisterous, and smiled so wide, you’d think that was his natural face. He was nothing like Hantengu, which all the more frightened you. With open, golden eyes, his stare is similar to that of an eagle, hyper-focused and tactile.

Urogi also seemed to jingle when he walked, or at least stood still since he appeared to be studying you from afar. With only black pants and a chain of yellowed pearls around his waist, Urogi’s wings flutter, giving you only a second to leave the ground before he wraps his arms around you and flies upwards. You scream out as the wind cuts your face, using a natural force so strong it blows your sword right out of your hand. One glance at the demon wrote your fate, and you could tell he wasn't planning on letting you down at all. His yellow eyes instantly meet your scared, frightful ones.

Seeing the horror on your face, Urogi laughs, showing off his razor sharp fangs, “Oh~! I caught myself a cute one! Aren’t I lucky today~!” He says and tosses you up for a second, “She’s so small! Wow~! No horns, no wings, you’re a human, aren’tcha? What a lucky find!” He can barley contain himself.

You scream in response, clinging onto his exceptionally muscular arm in hopes to pierce his tanned skin with your nails to do any sort of damage, “LET ME GO! LET ME GO! UROGI!” You curl your fists and try delivering several blows to his back, but he doesn't seem the slightest bit bothered. Urogi just continues to laugh.

“What’s that? You want to be let down? But we’re having so much fun! Why stop?” The demon catches you in his arms and squeezes you tightly, “I bet you just want to go higher, right? Then let’s go!” He flies higher and higher, removing the noises of all your screaming and replacing it with thick sounds of ‘fwoomp!’ ‘fwoomp!’ ‘fwoomp!’ of his browned wings, each time getting louder than the next. You try to kick and scream, and fight back most of all, but to Urogi, it only seems like you’re having the time of your life. So he flies higher, higher than the trees, higher than the mountains, and higher than the clouds.

You can feel yourself getting dizzier by the second thanks to his speed and fondness of swirling in circles. Maybe you could somehow cut off his wings? Boil him in a hot pot of water and cook him? No, it was impossible to even get a look on this guy. He’s too fast.

“Wahaha~! How delightful! I haven’t felt the air like that in so long. I almost forgot how fun that was!” His grip tightens around your hand, taking the opportunity to lock his talons between the spaces of your soft, now sweating hand. The slightest bit of strength could send streams of blood running down the creases of your palms, that’s the part that makes your blood run cold. Urogi keeps you in his hold, similar to that of a death grip, gripping onto its prey.

“L-Look!” You shriek, managing to catch your breath, “Urogi, right?”

The demon slows down and looks at you now hovering in the air, his eyes glowing in the night sky, “That’s me!” He chirps, “How do you know my name, human? Oh, could it be? You’re one of those hashiras? Demon slayers?” Urogi asks and suddenly tosses you in the air, adjusting his hold on you when he catches you again. Now, you're directly against his chest, up close and personal with the demon who you’re sure is about to kill you.

“That’s right! B-But, you want to live right? Fly around some more? I can make that happen. My name is Y/n and—”

“You’re a human! But you’re so...small. I’ve never seen someone like you around, did you come all this way to find me?” Urogi swoons and twirls around again, making you scream, “For some reason, I really like that. I like how you scream like I’m going to kill you! It makes me so happy.”

You hold onto the demon, clinging onto his shoulders and staring at him in shock. Only now do you realize how, pretty? he looks.

“I’m not going to drop you! I’m nice with my toys, don’t you trust me?” For your sake, you had to trust him, so you nod, “That’s good, I’m glad you do. But you see, Y/n, the thing about me is that...you shouldn’t really go doing that. But it’s so fun to make humans think they can trust me! But, you are different. You’re my favorite. You stayed this long, right?” You nod again and look up at the demon, who’s still holding onto you with his talons biting at your flesh.

Happy with your answer, and blind trust, a grin spreads across his face and his golden eyes widen owlishly, letting his tongue fall loose and hang off his bottom lip, offering you the sight of his branded kanji before he says, “Kidding.”

Then, he lets go. Just like that, the demon watches you slip from his grasp, black pupils constricting into a much smaller size just to focus on the image of your body quickly falling through the misted clouds, out of his vision. Up until this moment, you’ve never been this close to dying. Your heart pounds inside your chest, which feels to be concaving due to the newfound pressure slamming down on you.

There was no right way to fall from this height. Back, front, side, would all result in some sort of injury to your human body, but you had to choose one. If you manage to get lucky, you’d ideally fall on a bush or patch of leaves to cushion your fall. Better yet, the trees could catch you. However, you’ve lost sight of the laughing, winged demon, which only meant one thing. Ground was soon approaching.

With only a second to spare, your eyes widen and you manage to spin yourself around to see what you could possibly land on, but at that time, it was too late. Before you knew it, your body had completely landed on cold, hard dirt, rocks and smooth pebbles hitting directly into your skin, thankfully being protected by the thick fabric of your hashira uniform. Your arms and legs were now sprawled out away from your body, face well planted into the ground for only a little before you gasped out for air.

Even if it were any other hashira higher or lower than you, no one could’ve survived that fall. But for some reason, you did. Still, the pain was unbearable and it feels as though several of your bones had broken upon impact, but none actually were. Only a few cuts, scrapes, and bruises blooming around your otherwise perfectly normal skin. Now wasn’t the time to appreciate life, or writhe in pain, but to pay attention and turn around before Urogi returned to bat you around like his next meal.

But your speed is no match for his. Suddenly, a force lands directly on top of your back, causing you to choke out once more. Only this time, you knew exactly what the force was.

“Wow~! You survived from that high up? I knew you wouldn’t break. That’s why I want to play with you even more!” Urogi laughs and places his knees on either side of you, caging you down. With your back facing his chest, you can’t see anything. Which is just another disadvantage, the main one being your position right now. Instead of leaning down to talk to you on the ground, Urogi picks you up so that you’re on your knees, bending your back to be extra close to his newfound toy. “You smell so sweet, Y/n, I could just eat you up~! I haven’t eaten a human in so long...I really miss the taste...do you think I could try? I’ll be gentle~”

Before you could say anything, the sharpness of Urogi’s ivory fangs sink into your shoulder, sending a full body jolt of electricity down every single nerve you have. But it doesn’t feel bad at all. It’s too much to process, that you don’t even realize that a small noise escapes from your throat. Neither does Urogi, until,

“Mmfgh!” the muffled noise returns, louder when he suckles on the sensitive area. Only then does Urogi stop entirely, leaving you both in silence.

Your face flushes a bright shade of red full of embarrassment. If you could crawl into a deep, dark hole and die, you would without zero hesitation. As if it couldn’t get any worse, Urogi spirals into a fit of laughter and lets his head fall back, black hair falling onto his bare shoulder, “Hah? Did I catch that right? Was that...no, it can’t be.” The demon returns right back to your ear, pressing his grinning face against your heated one, “Did you like that? You liked it when I bit right here?” His tongue greets your shoulder once more, flicking the tip of it over the bite wound, causing you to yelp out again. Now, Urogi was certain, you liked this, and better yet, you liked him.

“I-I—” You struggle to form words. The thought of coming up with a lie on the spot only made the growing heat surging in your stomach swell, there was no way you could muster out anything but a low breath of indecisiveness.

”I thought it was just the thrill of being up in the air! But your heart speaks other wise. It went, bump, bump, bump!” Urogi laughs and presses his lips against the side of your face, planting a quick peck to catalyze your reaction harder. With each ‘bump’, he laughs more.

Now more than ever you wanted to kill him. It was bad enough having him laugh at your capabilities to fight, but now laughing at your body’s betrayal and inability to hold back when you’re turned on? He had to be the most annoying clone you could’ve gotten when you sliced off that sad excuse of a demon’s head. Urogi was so close to you though, it was impossible to think of anything other than his pounding chest, thick scent of sweat and musk, and firm arms hugging either side of you. Let alone the fact his hakama pants lack any structure or lining, making it very easy to tell that he’s very happy with you right now.

You bite your lip, too shy to admit the truth that you could possibly feeling something other than immense hatred towards a demon, but Urogi knew. Deep down, it made him beam, which reflected in his obvious, signature toothy grin. He always knew what you wanted.

Much to your shock, you don’t resist when Urogi’s chin fits ontop of your shoulder, rolling back your skin and hair to watch your expression when his hands travel inside your uniform. Sharp, claw-like finger nails trace send shivers up your body, feeling the spongy texture of your flesh accepting his cold touch. You suck in a short breath, not getting used to how bright his eyes are, but when you least expect it, he lets his excitement get the best of him and ends up tearing your white shirt to shreds and buttons flying.

“Urogi.” His name leaves your mouth as a hushed warning, prompting the eager demon to look up at you, “Please be more gentle with my things!”

From now on, you keep watchful eyes on the overly excited demon, not daring to look away in hopes of catching him if he does something violent. But, to your surprise, he doesn't. Urogi watches how your body involuntarily inches back into him as he massages circles into the smoothness of your chest, swirling the tip of his nail in light, thin strokes.

He looks strong, but he knows as a human, he’s supposed to be gentle with you. With all his experience with fighting, he’s well aware of the limits he’s allowed to push before he breaks someone. That’s why he’s so eager to play with you. No one has ever wanted to be played with by him before or even survived from a height that great before.

“I can’t wait...” He giggles to himself and tears your shirt further, exposing your breasts to the open sky, and more importantly, to him. “You're so beautiful I’m so excited to get started with you!”

Urogi eagerly leans forward and hugs you tightly, the softness of your chest easily falling into the palm of his claw-like hand. It’s cold for a bit, but quickly heats up when your body does.

His claws begin to knead your supple skin, feeling your tender breasts move in the same circular motion of the palms of his claws. It’s so cold, yet the feeling itself makes your body surge with heat. Not to mention that it doesn’t take long before Urogi discovers your nipples, appearing just as small buttons to him to press, squeeze and tug at, which would in turn give him the same sweet, high-pitched whimper he was already growing so fond of.

Urogi chirps happily and kisses the side of your neck again, licking his branded tongue just below your ear lobe, “More…I like it when you do that.” He rolls your nub between his claws again, causing you to jerk forward and cry out just a little louder, “It’s so cute~ I could listen to it all day~ Such a cute noise from such a cute human~” His voice is soft, yet still energetic and bouncy like normal, “Hehe...poke poke! Does it feel good here? Or here?” Urogi’s wings thrust him forward into the curve of your ass, making you fall forward a little bit before he cups your breast again, holding you closer to his chest.

He was toying with you, pushing your buttons just to make you squirm. Sure, it embarrassed the hell out of you, but it also made you incredibly horny. There was no way out of it. With his hands invading all sorts of personal space, your mind starts to wander into depths you’ve never thought you’d discover, like what it would be like to be fucked by a demon? Surely his strength would kill you, but Urogi’s smarter than that. He knows not to break his things, especially things he calls ‘precious.’

You flush hotly at the attention on your chest, and Urogi using you as a ragdoll didn’t help. But before you could get too used to his soft mumbling, pinching and squeezing at your nipples, and his palm rolling over your chest, Urogi stops and stands up, leaving you missing his strangely, warm touch. As if he knew what you were thinking, Urogi smiles and kisses your lips for just a second before pulling away. Now, you can’t see him. What kind of cruel game of hide and go seek is this?

“Might as well try something else while I’m here.” Urogi’s voice is low, sultry, and drastically different than before, just for a second. You turn around, currently in a warm embrace with Urogi’s arms locking you in place, and flash him a teary expression which only made him more excited to throw you forward onto the ground. Moving forward, Urogi places his hand on the small of your back and presses his open palm on your shirt, grasping the thin fabric in a tight bundle before ripping it right off you, along with your skirt. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, arching your brows in an expression that screams ‘stop ripping my fucking clothes apart!’ but you couldn’t exactly see Urogi. Instead, you arch your back as little, delicate touches scrape along your curves and thighs, making you instantly calm down.

“D-Damn.” The demon says, holding his wrist to his mouth, “I wish I got a hold of you sooner~ You didn’t tell me you’re wet down here~!” Urogi could hardly contain his excitement. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle for you, my precious hashira~”

Your face reddens at his tone. With his knees locked on either side of you, you squirm a little, letting the worst get the better of you, only dreaming of him being inside you. You couldn’t remember the last time you were this turned on. In fact, there wasn’t a time. It was only now. Under such a sadistic looking demon who practically feeds off of your embarrassment and worse, laughs at you. Urogi was so close to you now, you could feel his presence, giggling while he worked the waist band of his pants down, pulling it down to expose his what you could only guess was his cock. True to your suspicion, a simple glance from between your spread open thighs told you that what you were seeing was exactly what made your stomach knot.

Except, what you hadn’t expected was that Urogi was much bigger than you thought. His member was thick, had to be at least 8 inches, maybe more, but the mere sight of it made your mouth salivate, and your knees weak. His member was already hard, twitching in anticipation at the sight of your drooling, puffy pussy like it knew exactly where to go.

But Urogi waits for a bit with his cock in a tightly curled fist, grinning down with an open smile and arched brows, watching your hips bump back into him involuntarily and just so soft your ass looks.

“U-Urogi...” You mumble silently, looking over your shoulder back to him, “What are you waiting for?” Already, his newfound silence was making you nervous. Especially because you knew he was staring. Never in your life have you felt so exposed, with your ass high up in the air, slightly arched upwards with the help of Urogi’s hand, where there was no room to hide anything and everything was put on display to his hungry eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” The demon grins, placing the head of his sticky cock between your folds, earning a small gasp from your end. That was enough for Urogi to chirp with delight and pull your body forward.

“A-AHN!” You throw your head forward and grab onto anything, dirt, rocks, leaves, your own skin just to accommodate for his length. Drawing in a rattling breath, you open your eyes only for them to fall shut again whenever you try. Urogi’s member was practically splitting you open, thick veins pumping inside of your sticky walls without him even moving.

His cock sinks into you, filling your tight walls until you begin to whimper in protest. Even when you think he’s finally in, you look over your shoulder to see that there were still a few inches left of his blushed member still waiting to be buried inside your sweet pussy. Urogi can’t help but relish in how good you feel, his dick twitching inside you with a fascinated looking on his face, shocked and eager to see how much more you can take.

“I had no idea that a precious human like you could take this much!” Urogi pants, “You’re so small, i-it feels like you’re sucking me all in! What other surprises do you have for me?”

“Hol-ly shit. I-It’s just...so much bigger than I expected, Urogi...” You tell him simply, batting your dark lashes up at him, your fists curling into the cold ground below you.

“What~? Were you expecting me to be smaller? No way~! No way~! It’s not my fault you’re so small to begin with.” Urogi snickers, “Maybe you just can’t handle my cock, hm? Big, scary demon cock too much for a precious human like you?” He leans forward and pushes more of his length inside of you, grunting at the tight fit. You cry out, sweat forming instantly on your brow, and your heart threatening to leap out of your chest any minute now.

Within seconds, your body turned into flame. Your thighs almost instantly start to burn with desperation simply because of the way he moves with such passion and excitement. His burly arms twitch closer to your sides, using one of them to cup your breast again and squeeze it firmly, admiring how soft your skin is while burying his face deeper into your hair. Maybe it was a good thing you didn’t see him in this moment, because his reddened face, eyes squeezed shut, happily inhaling your scent would only turn you on more.

When did you start feeling this way? Especially towards your opponent? Especially towards a blood thirsty demon? Bloodlust was what you were taught back home, to be weary of a demon with extreme bloodlust. But no one told you how much more difficult it would be to deal with a demon with intense lust, period. Urogi caught you off guard many times, and even now, with his legs straddling yours, your face stuffed into your arms and your hips in the air, and his cock gradually making way into your insides, deeper and deeper by the second.

“S’too much! I-I can’t handle it-” You try to pull away but he keeps you still, not letting up on his robust grip and instead forcing every last inch of his hard on into your already throbbing cunt. Inch by inch, he buries himself deeper into you, using his thumb to hoist your waist up higher, just enough to slide your body onto his length better.

“It’s so warm inside you.” Urogi chirps, already panting with pure love and happiness in his mind. His talons dig into your waist, leaving pointed indents into your skin, the pain quickly becoming too much to bear. “I’m so happy~! I could stay here forever~ Holding you just like this, it really feels good to fuck you like this.”

His words make you realize that you have no sense of rational thinking left, your body isn’t even your own at this point. Overcome with the overwhelming feeling of his happiness crashing into you, your needy cunt squeezes down hard around the base of his pulsing cock, feeling how eager he is to fill you up the second his head kisses your sopping entrance. He was showing no mercy towards you, bucking his hips in different directions, experimentally testing to see which one you liked best, but didn’t pay attention to anything he liked because he liked them all. Hearing your voice and feeling you overstimulate him was enough for his satisfaction, he just wanted to enjoy the ride.

There was an unspoken agreement that Urogi had finally managed to squeeze his cock inside your pussy, stuffing every last inch of himself into your fluttering entrance. But what neither of you knew was that Urogi’s excitement would push his cock even further inside you, ramming past your velvety walls and right into the most tender spot he could manage to find. 

“Urogi-nGH! FUCK! T-That’s too deep! S-Slow down, ah! Ah!” You can feel Urogi fuck his cock deeper into your abused cunt, despite your breathless concerns, but he fucked harder and more persistently, reminding you that that’s all they are. Concerns.

Urogi grabs hold of your chin and turns your face towards his, smiling at your fucked our expression. You had taken it for granted when you didn’t have to see the face that made you so vulnerably turned on, but now that you’re so close to him, you can’t avoid it. His name falls from your lips in a whisper before Urogi matches your glistening lips with his upturned ones, giddily initiating a sweet and tender kiss. There was no correlation between what his mouth was capable of and what his body was capable of, as his mouth was probably the sweetest thing about him, and his body the complete opposite.

The words, “Beautiful,” and, “Pretty,” come from under his breath, what would only be mindless praise and yet it ignites sparks within the depths of your core, that are enough for you to curiously grind your hips back between the lips of your soaked cunt, willingly taking more of him now more comfortably. You roll your bottom lip in between your teeth and exhale sharply, beads of sticky sweat gathering on your brow and forehead. How could anyone blame you for getting excited?

Urogi already treated you like a fuck doll, a toy only to be played with over and over again, with no concern of breaking it. But he also kissed you like he meant it, soon curling his branded tongue on top of your own, lovingly gulping down the saliva in your mouth, making polite slurping noises. All while pounding into you, his claws running up and down your stomach and chest.

“You taste so sweet,” Urogi coos and pecks your cheek, “So sweet my precious hashira. I’m going to fill you up so good you won’t even have to think about fighting anyone else anymore~ No one’s better than me, say it~?” 

At that moment, you couldn’t hold back anymore.

A moan tears from your throat when you feel his length push past what you thought could never be reached, yet was so easily discovered by a demon by complete accident. Simply because he’s just too happy to realize it. You gasp out in shock and only continue to do so when Urogi’s hips quicken, now repeatedly prodding at the sensitive area, the head of his cock nearly splitting you open.

“Urogi! Ngh! Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck! U-Urogi~!” Hearing his name only makes him more happy, almost like adding wood to a burning flame, his smile grows wider and wider until he finally can’t handle it anymore and a pair of fangs bite right back into you, a place higher than before on the same shoulder. “MM!” You cover your mouth, and feel the brutal, raw strength of a demon abuse your pussy.

There’s a perfect mixture of pain from his cock wrecking your insides and hitting all of your sweet spots that leaves you speechless. You begin to sound almost strained as you choke back on your own breath from how you bite down on your wrist to hold back.

“You’re taking me so well. It’s like your body was made for me. That makes me so unbelievably happy~!”

Now it was clear. You adored being used. Being worshiped and loved, by Urogi and Urogi alone. Because he did so with such enthusiasm, in his strange yet exciting way, his cock now nudging the small, tender spot of your cervix in harsh movements, your sensitive walls spasm around his girth, causing you to cry out his name in multiple chants. Through teary eyes, you realize that your arms are now well decorated with deep, red layers of crescent marks, making your face hotter at the sight.

You love the feeling of shame and guilt swirling inside your head, and maybe it’s the confusion of if you should even be allowing something like this to even happen in the first place, but you absolutely love it. The feeling of having such a shameless demon fuck you senseless, or the feeling of finally getting the chance to be wild and free and partially in control. But the shame was overshadowed by the sheer feeling of love buzzing off of the demon, only thinking of what’s happening in the moment and how wet you are, dripping arousal from your oozing pussy and drooling saliva from your hung open lips. Urogi just can’t stop smiling.

“You're perfect,” You can barley hear what he’s mumbling, “So fuckin’ perfect! I’m so lucky!” His large hand places itself over your spasming abdomen, applying just the right amount of pressure onto the moving, aching bulge of his cock inside you. Now more than ever, his cock was heavy inside of you. Hot to the touch and so are you, which could only mean one thing.

You try to notice as many details as you could. His long hair, the way his wings flapped every now and then, and the way his pupils dilated in the pool of his golden eyes. You wanted to remember everything, especially the sound of his voice which had grown louder and more boisterous than before. If that was even possible.

Urogi can very well see the tears prick your delicate eyes, gathering globs of his overwhelming pleasure on the corners of your lashes threatening to spill onto your cheeks. Fully focused on the painful look of you struggling to not break, Urogi’s breath fans across your ear, nibbling on the shell of it, returning the same feeling you had gotten that started all this in the first place. “Look at you, taking me so well! It really is fun playing with a human~ but it looks like you’re so close to breaking, can’t hold on any longer, hhmmhm~?” He bites again.

“Nngh! S-So good-Urogi! M-MHMM! I-I’m not gon—fuck! U-Urog-hi!” You can’t even bring yourself to respond, hypnotized by the way his hips are drilling into you and how forcibly he’s moving. You can only scream out, anything goes, and hold out as best as you can. “Ngh! Hmm!” Suddenly, your body tenses up, freezing momentarily and squeezing his cock harder than ever. That’s what makes Urogi stop laughing and gasp out.

You can’t even bring yourself to say the words that would surely make his ego skyrocket, so you bite down on your arm and let his name fall out from clenched teeth. Urogi tightens his grip on your waist and chokes out, hips still thrusting into you sloppily, and hugs you tighter.

“So soon~? Ah, my precious hashira can’t take me anymore? Do you want me to fill your pretty pussy up? Poor poor human, I won’t even mind if you wanna go a second round? Or third?” Urogi laughs and stuffs his cock deeper into your fluttering hole, “Fourth? If we go five times I’ll surely be happy! Happier than anyone else in the world!”

His hair flops to the side, catching against his horns and throws his head back, turning into a rabid animal to which your body gladly accepts. He sucks in a breath at the feeling of your walls tightening around him, the warmth of your insides wrapping around him and refusing to let go just like he is. With an open mouth, Urogi groans your name, letting a thin string of drool fall down his chin, laughing when he looks back at you.

“You’re getting all tense, Y/n,” His golden eyes trail onto your back, slapping his hand over your ass, “You gonna break? I wouldn’t mind, promise!”

And break, you do. Under his hold, you feel a sharp force tighten low in your core, one final thrust of the head of his aching cock tears that knot in two and you finally scream out. With your perfect song piercing his ears, his hips buck up with ease, and he lets himself go. Warmth surges through your body as the demon’s hot liquid shoots inside of you, filling your sore, velvety walls up to the brim with cum. As you cry out louder, Urogi continues thrusting deeper, not even thinking to stop until he sees the mixture of the white, creamy fluid burst from out of your pussy and form a ring around his cock does he slow down.

With a chuckle, his eyes focus in and he settles, admiring the feeling of your sweet whimpers and even sweeter pussy clench onto him, twitching and oozing along with his cock spilling warm cum into you.

“Yes~! That’s it, fuck...mhm~” Urogi exhales, sticking his tongue out sloppily, “You’re amazing, just like that! My precious hashira’s so cute when she cums all for me~” You can’t bear it anymore. You stuff your face into your folded arms and whine out, tired of his constant praise and happiness, he finally reached a limit and now you were to embarrassed to even hear him. Urogi laughs at your response and pulls out entirely, watching the way his cock springs out inside of you, unintentionally slapping its weight against the curve of your ass just enough for you to twitch in surprise.

You bathe in his after glow, his golden hour, feeling the warm fluid gushing past your sore pussy lips and running down the inside of your thigh, some dribbling down the middle of your legs entirely. The sweet smell of sex and hot air panting from both of your mouths mixes into the cold, bitter night, making the scene weirdly comfortable, like you can stay there for longer if asked too. Just then, Urogi pulls your body to the side, flipping you over on your back, since he’s well aware you can’t do it yourself, and smiles down at you.

You hadn’t realized how much you missed seeing his face in it’s entirety. What was once smiling out of pure joy from seeing looks of terror and horror on your face, had turned soft and delighted, glowing with a dim light emitting from his squinted eyes and bright smile. You swallow nervously and look up at him through your lashes. His horns seem to be at their highest given your position, and he seems to be growing taller by the second. Urogi’s face isn’t at all calm though, he’s beaming with stray hairs scattering all over his head and sweating like he just got back from running miles, and his wings are fluttering as if they’re on edge from any small noise around him.

He’s panting breathlessly, and there’s a slight glisten to the tops of his thighs which you quickly look away from. He made such a mess out of you, yet he’s smiling about it?

“Wow~ That was fun.” Urogi exhales and pushes his raven colored hair up from his damp forehead, “Felt good, huh?” You nod your head and exhale in relief, “Well, my precious hashira, I guess that’s it then, right?” The demon pouts, smiling afterwards with a shit eating grin. You look up at him and part your lips to say something, but he cuts you off before you can. “You're free to go if you want. But I have a feeling you'd rather stay and have fun with me. Isn’t that right?”

He wasn’t wrong at all. How could you refuse?

[silkscream]

tender is the flesh

ੈ✩ synopsis: in which you're the only thing that can make the strongest sorcerer of the jujutsu world weak.

ੈ✩ cw: smut (minors dni), angst, yandere-adjacent gojo (he is so obsessed with you), religious imagery, unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamics, body worship, lots of biting, dacryphilia, possessive gojo

ੈ✩ wc: 2.5k

ੈ✩ a/n: [giggles nervously] gojo really went feral mode in this one! honestly this had more angst in mind because i was feeling So Horrible and then when i started writing the smut... someone else took over. anyways gojo is so obsessed with you that it might be a little unhealthy. like wants to live in your skin unhealthy. i think i actually wrote that word for word in the fic that's how down bad he is. runs away

gojo satoru won’t admit it to anyone, but he’s started to consider you an extension of himself. the missing piece, the phantom limb, however the cliche goes. even when he had ended things for the better, the ache would never dissipate until he found you again.

out of his own selfishness, he did.

once gojo had made up his mind that he was in love with you, he thought peace would come along with it. it did, in some aspects — your presence often acted like a summer breeze that eased his nerves. the warmth of your smile shined brighter than the sun.

and then other times, being in love with you was a new kind of violence. it churns in satoru when he’s alone, knotting in his stomach like a caged beast.

he knows you aren’t delicate. he’s watched you in all your beauty, all your bloodshed surrounded by the slain bodies of cursed spirits. he has held your calloused hands in his just to feel the pulse on your wrist. it’s a habit for him now whenever he touches you.

he has softened himself so much for you that he’s terrified to know that you’ve seen him in battle. he often wishes he could hide that from your memory, maybe make it disappear completely — the sadism that sparks in his eyes when he’s busy with his hands against curses and curse users.

he can’t suppress that violence within him — the one raging at him to leave you, ruin you, kill you. (he’d much rather you kill him, instead.)

right now, the sound of your even breathing is all that fills satoru’s ears despite the dread in his chest. when you twitch the slightest bit in your sleep, he has his arms around you in an instant, chin rested on the top of your head.

“satoru?”

“mm? thought you were asleep, baby.”

you nuzzle your nose into his bare chest. he can feel your eyelashes flutter against his skin. he chuckles when he notices you’re trying to adjust to make your face level to his.

“have you been awake this whole time?”

“uh… yeah,” he sighs. he doesn’t have an excuse this time like he usually does, but he’d rather die than relay his late-night thoughts to you out loud.

“can’t sleep?”

“i should be asking you that,” he chuckles. he tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear and moves to comb his fingers across your scalp just the way you like. the feeling of it makes you shiver.

“i was having one of those dreams,” you whisper. “the ones where i’m like, half awake. and you’re there, holding me.”

“yeah?”

“mhm. and then i tried to adjust so i could kiss you, and… and then you disappeared.”

“i’d never disappear on you.”

but you did. you don’t say it out loud, because you don’t blame him for trying to leave you the way he had months before.

he’d told you once that being with him was a death sentence in itself. it took a great amount of sacrifice and carnage for him to realize that you would never let that happen by your hand. he had discovered it in your bloody hands and the shallow breaths you’d taken after countless missions.

“i’m glad it wasn’t a nightmare.”

“what do you mean?” you coo, your big eyes blinking back at him. “not being able to kiss you sounds like a nightmare to me.”

he lets out a breathy laugh. he replies by giving you a peck on your hairline.

“satoru.”

“yes?”

“do you ever get nightmares?” you yawn.

it’s an innocent question. satoru is more likely to say no, because usually he has a dreamless sleep. he hasn’t gotten nightmares since suguru died, and even then, satoru has seen more gore and split limbs than a normal man should. he also recognizes that he isn’t a normal man.

“never. not when i get to sleep next to you.”

“right. six eyes isn’t afraid of anything.”

“that’s not true.”

“oh, yeah? what scares you, then?”

he holds your chin in between his fingers and his thumb.

“you, honestly.”

“me?” you giggle in genuine surprise.

“yes, you. i don’t think you have any idea of what power you hold over me.”

“says the strongest sorcerer,” you tease, rolling your eyes.

“i’m serious,” he mutters. “it’s terrifying, really. sometimes i want— i want you so selfishly. to own you. you’re so—”

“i’m what, satoru?” your voice is a wavering murmur now. he’s sure he’s scared you now.

“completely unprecedented. it’s fucking ridiculous.”

he would tell you he loves you, but that would make it real. real in the sense that those three words are an incantation that would most likely lead the both of you towards doom. despite already hurtling towards it, he prefers to delude himself by telling you in a million different ways that you make him weak.

he’s already accepted his spot in hell. on the other hand, you are too heavenly to accompany him, so he’ll keep you in this lifetime.

satoru rubs his hand on the soft skin of your neck and shoulder. in a certain lens, it’s innocent and loving. nurturing, even. but you know better.

gojo satoru sees you as his other half, as a necessity to the very fiber of his being, and he still wants to wreck you.

he dreams of it often. he usually has you tied up in red rope, something soft and pretty and comfortable. he likes the image of you docile, your skin so supple and malleable underneath his large hands.

you curl into satoru because you know that’s what he craves. you exhale into his collarbone and he thinks he might just lose his mind.

“you’re weird, six eyes.” there’s more that you want to say but you don’t know how to piece it all together in a way that makes sense. all the desire crawling out of your throat comes out in hushed breaths.

“i’m horrible.”

“no,” you grin. “just weird. but i like you that way.”

admittedly, you are on the brink of sleep. meanwhile, he is on the brink of imploding into himself if he doesn’t feel your touch. so, of course, he takes matters into his own hands.

you barely question it when satoru touches his full lips to yours. luckily for him, you don’t mind, either. he’s more than ecstatic to feel you melting into his body as you kiss him back, his tongue pillowy as it teases yours.

you’ve done this before with him plenty of times, but it would be a stretch to say that you’re particularly used to it. in every way, his mouth anywhere on your body makes you feel electric. in your sleepy haze, you accept it, because you’re convinced you’ve never felt anything better.

when his mouth leaves you, you can’t help but mewl pathetically.

“what is it, baby?” he rasps.

“don’t stop.”

“what do you want, hm?” he teases. “tell me.”

if you were more awake, you’d flush and retreat into yourself out of embarrassment. there’s a part of satoru that wishes to see that part of you right now.

in a sick, twisted way, it turns him on even more — the prospect of you being so unaware of how obsessed he is with you. of how he’d be more than content with simply living in your skin, knowing all the ways you move and all the ways you tick. he has you memorized, certainly, but he hasn’t gotten ahold of all of you. he’d forfeit his status and his work just for a bit just so he could learn all of you from the inside out.

satoru is so sure that his desire for you is too much. so much that it would disgust you the same way it disgusts himself. and it’s not that he finds the act of wanting you disgusting — it’s the mere caliber of his desire. it’s become otherworldly.

he’d rather coax out a confession from you, instead, just so he can feel better about himself.

“want more.” the sound of your voice is small. pathetic.

“want more what, huh? be more specific.”

“i— i want you to touch me. please?” you stammer. your eyes blink up to satoru’s for just a moment and he swears it’s the most adorable sight. the usual sharpness of his gaze softens.

he chuckles, reveling in the desperation of your voice.

“where? here?”

you hiss at the feeling of his long fingers cupping the damp mound of your underwear, reflexively bucking into his palm. he’s so tantalizing with how he moves the fabric to the side. your wetness gathers on his fingertips as he rubs your clit.

“y-yeah.”

“so pent up,” he groans. “all because you couldn’t kiss me in your dream, hm?”

“fuck.”

“my poor baby. ‘s so easy to make you feel good, isn’t it?”

you mewl his name, turning each syllable a staccato. your blink wildly at the feeling of his teeth gnawing at your collarbone as he keeps a steady rhythm on your clit. the movements are so gentle yet rapid. the coil inside of you is so close to breaking.

your eyes are squeezed in anticipation of your release. it’s probably good that you aren’t looking at his face, because the way satoru stares down at you is something indescribable. he looks at you like you created him. he’ll probably get sick from how prodigious his love is. his devotion will be the cause of his ruination.

“s-satoru! i’m— ”

“shhh,” he coos into your ear. “s’okay. you’re so good, look at you. so fucking pretty.”

you don’t even notice the tears pricking the corner of your eyes. when you look into satoru’s blue ones, you gasp at how blown out his pupils are, visible even in the dimness of your room.

he grins like a devil. he’s determined to have you overdose on him just so he can be the one to bring you back to life.

“fuck, don’t look at me like that,” he groans. “i’ll cum before i’m even inside you.”

satoru lifts up your (his) t-shirt so he can hook his teeth around your nipple. one hand grasps your waist hard enough to bruise while his other hand covers your mouth. he slips his fingers onto your tongue. when you suck obediently, licking up your taste, satoru makes a wounded sound, a whimper like a devoted dog.

you want to kiss him, lick into his mouth, but the hold he has on your hips is resolute, as if he’s sure that you’ll disappear. his demeanor is always wild during intimacy, often cocky, but this time it’s more primal than usual.

“so fucking cute when you fall apart for me,” he mumbles, his mouth moving upwards now to suckle on your collarbone. “just for me, yeah?”

“mhm,” you moan. his hands all over you makes your mind completely erratic. you barely register his words after chasing the high of your orgasm.

“say it. want you to say it.”

“’m yours, satoru,” you whine. “all of this — ah! — just for you.”

your legs are shaking so much from his fingers on your clit again. he has you overstimulated from his touch. the sounds that come out of your mouth have to be awakening something divine in him. the knife inside him twists inward.

“mine, mine, mine,” he mutters into your skin, slotting his hips with yours. he enters you without warning, a hard thrust that has your body bending to his will.

“no one wants you more than i do, you know that? if anyone even tries to test me, i’d kill them.”

“satoru—”

you can barely grasp language at this point. he laughs a little when he sees your eyes roll back and the sound of it is both melodic and a little mean.

“oh my god,” you whimper. tears start falling down your cheeks.

satoru might be a sadist — the sight makes his heart fucking swell. he wants to tear you apart and put you back together. he wants to worship you.

and god, the begging. the aching way your voice breaks as you say his name and the word please.

he’s carnal with his teeth at your throat. his hips stutter when he feels how tightly you suck him in, how he can feel your cunt contract when he hits a certain spot.

satoru thinks he’s been hungry for you all his life. if being the strongest sorcerer wasn’t his reason for being alive, he thinks that being able to see you sprawled out like this underneath him is reason enough.

satoru is many things. he’s arrogant, assured, depraved. he’s certainly annoying to anyone that knows him. but above all, to nobody else but you, he is fucking obsessive.

he loses himself in your pussy. with his cock pushed inside you to the hilt, he is yours and no one else’s. no one else can touch him like you do. no one else touches him.

“i’m so close,” you gasp.

“poor thing. is that what’s got you crying so much?” he taunts.

“y-yes! fuck—”

“you’re so pretty when you cry. i love it.”

you flush under his gaze, heat pooling in your stomach. when you attempt to cover your face with your arms and at least wipe away your tears, satoru holds down your wrists.

“don’t hide from me,” he groans. “wanna see my pretty girl when she cums.”

he can feel his dick twitching inside of you. you’re so fucking tight. the lewd sound of him drilling into you is obscene, but the look on your face is fucking divine.

he loves to claim you, to mark you up. he remembers how much you like it, too, especially when his long, pretty fingers are around your throat. he squeezes just the tiniest bit and you gasp in pleasure.

“more, more, more—”

“i know, baby, i know.”

satoru likes his name best when it comes from your mouth. especially when you’re crying, your voice shaking just as violently as your thighs.

he takes the opportunity to be even rougher, his other hand toying with your clit as he coaxes your release. you’re overwhelmed, flooded with a euphoria that stimulates the whole of your body.

“fuck, y’feel so fucking good,” he grunts. with his cock wrapped in the velvet of your cunt, satoru feels like he’s on top of the fucking world. above the heavens, too, probably.

“cum inside me,” you strain. “please.”

“yeah? you want it that bad?”

he presses into you further, lifting your legs so that your ankles dangle past his shoulders.

“yes— need it so bad, fuck!”

he curses with a growl rumbling in his chest. he soaks your insides with his warmth until it leaks out of you.

this is satoru’s form of worship. the stutter of his breaths, the slight tremble of his hands as they caress your jaw. the all-consuming kiss.

it rouses something terrifying inside you. in a way, it mirrors the beast in him. gods and monsters, the two of you.

the room is filled with the sound of both of your breaths evening out, heartbeats syncing together.

“jesus christ.” you clear your throat.

“you okay?”

“i’m perfect,” you reply in a haze. even after cumming, satoru wants to lick the sleepy grin off your mouth. or maybe make you cry again.

for now, he basks in your warmth, indulges in the way you bring him back to earth after making him ascend to heaven.

“yeah, you really are.”

[calisources]

𝐄𝐗𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒, 𝐄𝐗𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒, 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences here are taken from different medias about exes with complicated feelings, exes that are still lovers, jealousy, complicated feelings and the game of chase and catch. You can change names, pronouns, locations and more as you see fit. Some of these are suggestive and others are a little foul, so beware.

Every time I thought to, I wrote about you.

Actually, I hadn’t thought of her for a long time.

Are you waiting for your lover? Do you know that's the only reason anyone comes to a place like this in the middle of the night?

Is that why you're here?

You can go pick another spot. I found this one first.

If you hadn't stolen my bride away in the night, I would not have been forced to take such drastic measures to get her back.

What do you want? An apology? For me to crawl back into your bed and play nice, little wife?

Why should I want spoiled goods returned to me?

You're gone and you left me. My heart has dissipated. The only thing I can feel is the blood rushing through my veins and the strings that hold my fragile heart together.

When you truly love someone, it doesn't go away.

I don't want to forget what we had.

Everything is moving so fast. Before long everyone we know will be scattered across the country, the world even. 

Have I lost you love?

Why would she wear a dress like that? Is she doing it just to torture me?

You need to change clothes now. Everyone is looking at you.

You don’t control what I wear or who I wear it to.

For someone who looks after hearts, you can be careless. You know you broke mine, don't you?

You can't hold on to things just because of the memories.

Yes, I made the mistake of falling in love with a man without any feelings.

You're with him?

You’ve always enjoyed people fighting for you.

The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.

I will never blame Barry for falling in love with you but I will blame him for considering himself eligible.

Don’t torture me any more, I can’t stand it.

Whatever there is between you two I don’t want to know about it.

Just shut up. I need to not to think and you need to think less. We need this.

He is in love with you. I read the fucking letters.

Where the hell have you been?

I don’t need your permission.

Oh, but I do care and you do need my permission. You’ve become very forgetful, my sweet—I’m your husband, remember? Take off your clothes.

I’m jealous, and I find the feeling not only novel, but singularly unpleasant.

Do you love her?

You pushed me away.

Do you want me then, to deceive and entrap you?

It often gives a lady a pleasure to giver her lover a pang.

You're jealous because I actually go after what I want, and I get it.

I'm afraid my jealousy is a beast I find difficult to tame.

I’m not obsessed with her.

It is possible to care about a woman without wanting to bed her.

If girls could spit venom, it'd be through their eyes.

She's a fucking rat trying to humiliate a queen...She's nothing.

That's none of your concern.

I'd like to know who's been giving rings to my council.

But just out of curiosity, how do you feel about getting my name tattooed on your forehead?

You don’t need to worry about Reece.

You are doing all of this on purpose. To get a rise out of me.

Perhaps it bothers you that I am not longer yours to keep and play with.

I chose not to follow your advice. Ned is a very nice person. Handsome, personable—a perfect escort.

Fuckin' my man in my bed. You got some goddamn nerve, girl.

I know you'd react negatively if I approached a make. You're... possessive.

Sugar, I'm way past possessive.

You like jealousy. You like knowing people want you.

I don't get jealous, I get even.

I am not yours. I stopped being yours, you have no right to keep me away from others.

It has been years since you seen me and you still behave like this.

She is my girlfriend, I can do whatever I want to her. 

You know my heart, It’s yours. But I’m done.

I want you to be in my arms again. I don’t think I can live without you.

Every day is hard and the nights are so cold without you here. 

Don’t look away. Look me in the eyes and tell me you no longer feel anything for me. That you don’t think of me. 

This is the reason I need to go away. I can’t be around someone I can never have. 

I am over you, but my heart is still under the spell of the relationship that was. I miss you.

You’re still my person, even if I’m not yours.

I have seen you give him looks and smiles this very night, such as you never give to—me.

I don’t mind you think of someone else, soon I will be the only one in your mind.

Do not worry, I will make you forget everything and everyone. 

This is your punishment, for your little trick tonight. 

You have to stop doing this. Bring me to your bed, making me want you. 

Does it bother you, the thought I will be wed soon? That a man will share my bed every night?

[midnxght-sweet-time]

╰─▸ ❝ [ ⚠ 18+ 𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 ; 𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗗𝗼 𝗡𝗼𝘁 𝗜𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁. ] ❞

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∷ 𝚂𝚢𝚙𝚗��𝚜𝚒𝚜 ▼

In a desperate act of hunger, you broke the Queen of hearts rule #089 : You must not eat the queen's tarts without her permission. Even as a non member of Heartslabyul, do you really think you could get away with such atrocity?

∷ 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜/𝚃𝚆 ▼

Suspense. ▪︎ Reader making dumb decisions. ▪︎ NSFW. ▪︎ Smut. ▪︎ Choking/use of collar. ▪︎ Overstimulation. ▪︎ Raw/unprotected sex ▪︎ Possessive sex. ▪︎ Angry sex. ▪︎ Dumbification. ▪︎ Oral sex. ▪︎ Cock-drunk/pussy-drunk. ▪︎ Squirting. ▪︎ Creampie. ▪︎ You get fold to a mating press. ▪︎ You're also being stuffed like a turkey. ▪︎ Rip your legs your never walking again. ▪︎ Riddle is sexually fustrated. ▪︎ Not proofread. ▪︎ Please I wrote this during English class–

— ● ✎ Note :

Listen to me— I had been suggested a reel of that one scene of Alice in Wonderland from the live action and from that I somehow got this big brain idea to commit to it. For those who seen it ya'll should know where this came from. This is actually my first time writing smut– in a more descriptive narrative sense, to those uhhhh horny connoisseurs, I'd like some feedback if any thx qwq. Anyways, have fun reading sweeties ♡

"Someone has stolen my tarts!!!"

The shocking sound of the doors being slammed open with such violent force made you swallow any comfort you had before and replace it with dread.

The once lively room of friends now went silent and still like a sudden interrupted record player. It wasn't the fact that the door was nearly knocked out of its hinges that scared everyone— no, whether that poor door were to ever move again was the least of anyones' worries; it was the fact that someone's or everyone's heads will roll to the ground… metaphorically speaking.

This situation however seems to differ from every other; of all the times you have stood still as a common bystander that got caught in the crossfire, this was entirely different.

Sweat rolled down the side of your face as your heart thumps uncontrollably as if looking for an escape. How your terrified heart screamed at you to run or hide and cower any way out of the dorm leader's piercing sharp gaze that bore through every person in this room all at once. Your lips straighten and your teeth sink into the gums behind it as a vain attempt at calming yourself from the beast that's approaching.

The taste of strawberry on your lips seems to be indigestible now…

The heels of polished boots were more than a warning— they were unspoken yet clear threats to anyone who even dares think of moving an inch besides him. Those gray-blue tinted orbs that flitz from one side to the other. Eyes furrowed at a certain orange haired male that had his strands standing on end with a mere click of his tongue.

"Trappola."

The first suspect was called. Ace immediately shot up from his lousy posture and stood tall before the vicious queen as if a card soldier on command. "Did you steal my tarts?" Like a man being held at gunpoint, Ace took a moment to keep himself steady before speaking, "No dorm leader." The eyes of Riddle stayed on him for a few seconds before continuing on the straight path of students to interrogate the next.

"Spades."

The other pair of cards was called. Unlike the heart, the spade was more self-assured. Deuce eyes at Riddle with an equally bold glare. He was more well adjusted to the situation as seen in his confident expression. Yet the slight shiver of his fingers and legs were opposing this. "I did not eat your tarts, dorm leader." That was all it took for Riddle to look satisfied with his answer. An approving nod was given as Deuce was left off the hook easily. It almost made your eyes twitch in envy.

Those bluish gray eyes went back to scanning the lounge of students. The look on Riddle's face seems to soften a bit now, but it was a mere facade that gives a false sense of security. The tightening of his fist was a dead give away to you that puts you on high alert, it was clear that he was still very pissed off and is dead set on finding the culprit. This caused gears in your head to start turning as you suddenly had a stray warning thought. You noticed how… out of character the tyrant suddenly was. You know how lenient he has been ever since his Overblot, but how he takes his time in searching for the tart thief feels more calculated.

Everyone knew Riddle doesn't take lightly to anyone stealing anything from him, especially his precious tarts. So for him to be slow and steady in this pace felt so off. It felt like he already knew who the culprit was and was simply going about a routine of interrogation. Maybe to coax the truth out of anyone by crushing them under the pressure like a bug at the bottom of his heels.

It sure had you sitting on the edge of your seat as if you were watching a horror movie. Your back sinking further into the velvet plush cushion of the seat as if you were trying to sink into it to get out of this situation. The way his intimidating presence prances around the room like a hunting predator had your eyes glued to his every move as you prayed internally for him to move on even if you knew the off chance of him ever letting this one broken rule slide was undoubtedly little to none.

As if the universe decided to screw you over, Riddle pretty much ignores the last two of the remaining dorm members and goes straight to you. His supposed short form towering over yours as he stood tall. A shadow was cast in front of you and Riddle from how the looming physical threat was preventing any light from comforting you at all. The only 'lumination' to this unwelcoming cover was the look in his eyes that metaphorically shines as he glares down at you and the anxiety burning through your entire being. Slowly did his face edge to yours as he bent down to take a good look at you. A slight widening takes over his eyes as if he wants you to take a good look at his pupils that had a glow of rage and suspicion. His lips move slowly as every word places an invisible pressure on your chest at the impending doom.

"Did you steal my tart?"

Gulping down whatever was left of your pride, your lips barely parted and were about to let out only hush whispers until the red tyrant spoke once again. "Open your mouth wide and speak, darling." It was like a purr and a growl. How his voice was harsh but the word 'wide' draped along his throat.

Inhaling a deep breath as if the enraged boy stole your breath away with just his mere presence. You gathered yourself and repeated the words that the previous suspects have heaved out, "No. Riddle."

But it was barely enough. Meanings behind those words were half baked and hardly convincing to the red queen's ears. As no matter how innocent and petite Riddle's short form may look, his mind was far from being naive. One brow rose up as he scanned your entire expression, making your breathing unsteady once more. It was so nerve-wracking how he was inching towards you. Those wide mad eyes coming closer and closer.

You looked to the side as your panicked gaze focused at the heart and the spade markings on the side of your friends' faces. Your pupils shake as if begging them to say or to help you. But no matter how desperate you may look, everyone stood still and watched as if they were just statues that were glued in place; unmoving and never dared utter a word, either by the fear of being targeted next or perhaps with a blank mind and no plans to save your sorry ass.

But as your sight shifted back, all your vision was covered with faded red of eye shadow on fair skin, as small locks of hair in the same red shade brushed against your eyelashes. The feeling of soft smooth lips connecting with your dry ones was what overwhelmed your senses. It was then you realize you were trapped within the tyrant's hold. Something slippery glides across the dry skin at the side of your mouth all the way to the other end with a slow sensual lick, wetting the surface and picking up the lingering flavor and syrup that you left behind.

A gentle touch on your cheek that almost caught you off guard. It caresses your skin gently yet holds you in place with how those fingernails gripped at your skin like an anchor and dragged it down to your chin. Your breath was stolen once again as you finally realized the unexpected osculation was a way of finding the evidence to your thievery.

As he finally pulls away with a thin trail of spittle connecting from his end of his tongue to your lips, you didn't notice how red and hot your cheeks burned with how fast your heart race; either from the fear of being caught or the sudden display of affection that made you almost forget you had a literal audience that starred at you two with wide eyes as if you were a victim placed on an unfair trial. But it doesn't seem Riddle was all too bothered by the latter.

All his focus was on you, furrowed anger displayed on his face as his eyes bore through yours once again but this time with a hint of an indescribable emotion that you can't seem to decipher. A small wet puckered noise rings in your ears as you notice that same wet muscle glided along his lips the same way it did with yours. With one final inhale, he slowly inches backwards with soft spoken words you didn't know you'd be terrified of hearing:

"It's strawberry jam."

Lewd sounds of skin slapping together was drowned with the dizzying sense of pleasure leaving you gasping for air and crying out incoherent sobs. The way your body jolts up with each pound of his hips against your ass, has you gripping onto the fabric of Riddle's tie that bound your hands together in a cute little bow.

"I w-was just hungry– I–"

Your words were cut off by the harsh slap and the knock of the tip of his girthy cock ramming up your cervix, shutting you up. The sound of wet squelches echoes through the room and those bluish gray eyes bore holes through yours with such intimidating presence. "Stop making excuses." The red head sneers, flickers of anger and hunger still laced in his eyes that made you shiver accompanied by his gloved hands that gripped onto your waist securely as he forced you through his harsh relentless thrusts.

He wouldn't hear you. The only thing he took into account is the non stop moaning that he can drive them out of you. You were just hungry. You would have asked for his permission or known it was his if he wasn't away doing other things, cooped up in his room for who knows how long.

…Or perhaps that bitter thought was what led you to spite him and stole the tart in hopes you could get away with it. You were planning to replace it, you swear! But Riddle would never listen and insist on punishing you tenfold.

You shift your head to the side, your neck aching with how tightly the collar squeezed at your throat. "Please— so- s'too much–" your senses have already been overloaded. You lost track of time with how long Riddle has been stuffing you with his cock. You could barely register his words as he muttered, "And you are to take it like how you took my tart." He has fucked you well past tears, past the point your voice have started to grow more hoarse. Your legs that once wrapped around his waist so obediently have now fallen limp; much to the dorm leader's annoyance, he had to hold them down for you.

"You don't know how to behave do you?" The tyrant grunts. The table rocking off all papers and pens he worked so hard to organize just to make space for you. He continues to feed you his girth, vigorously plunging into you that had you seeing stars. Fuck. His too much— you would beg and cry for him to stop if he didnt keep interrupting you with well-aimed thrusts that kept you moaning or even demand you shut up and take his cock like the good little slut you are.

It felt so good but the overstimulation made you feel like you could just burst.

He was ruthless in his punishment, making sure to make this as mind-breakingly numb as possible. The infamous collar was chained tightly on your neck to make sure you were reminded of your misdeeds with how little air you get to take in. Your mind is turned to mush with how nicely his length rubs against the plush walls of your leaking hole. Juices that were already squirted out mixed with cum that overflowed have been leaking down to the crack of your ass and to your back. Your sore legs are gripped so tightly as you've been folded into an overused mating press.

You felt his hand grabbing your jaw and slowly turning your head to face him. The touch was oddly gentle in contrast to the rough treatment you've been given. His eyes now gleam their color at you with a more softer look than that furrowed glare from before, yet it was still just as frightening with how sternly expressed he looks at you.

"Keep your eyes on me. You have yet to apologize for your actions."

Another harsh single slam against you, telling you he has reached another high. His tip pulsates and you moan at the feeling of another wave of cum pumping you full again. His cock sliding in and out subtly to get a bit more friction to stimulate the ejaculation, filling you up again with another load.

You heaved out a desperate gasp, "Ri-Riddle– 'm sorry."

Another savage slap of his balls on your ass. He starts fucking you again. Pushing you onto the table. He bends down to sink his teeth on your collarbone, planting another bite besides the dozens that are already littered on you from neck to shoulder, some even on your thighs. He holds onto that part of your skin like a rabid animal that had been starved— perhaps he was seeing as how you took the one thing other than you he was looking forward to after work. Your cunt already all puffy and swollen from the abuse, yet it sucks in his dick as if yearning for more.

"Queen of hearts– rule- fuck, rule #053. You w-will replace what you stole— but I want… your integrity."

Inhaling your scent, his head is still buried in your neck. Your hands that were bound have given up the struggle and instead clawed at your own palm. The fabric felt like it was part of you now. You felt like a folded origami with how long you've stayed in such a position. Squirming underneath your queen that holds you so possessively, completely at his mercy. His girth and cream stretching you and keeping you full, you're not sure if you want him to ever pull out and be emptied.

You can feel every heavy vein that drags along your slippery slick walls. You were so very sensitive, panting like a dog. Perhaps this was your third— no… fifth orgasm? You really can't recall anymore when you're squirting out like a hose. Your juices glistened and coats his whole length. Lubricating it so well his thrusts were so smooth but still so rough.

"You are to obey these rules. Understood?"

"Y–yes-!"

Your vision gets hazy as you keep rocking on his dick, your cunt being constantly destroyed from the inside out. You were completely fucked dumb. Riddle really has no intention of stopping until your sweet little mind can think of nothing but the pure stifling bliss his putting you through or til the clock strikes midnight and your pussy is left overflowing with his cum as a mark of your discipline.

[kouyou-arc-when]

ON DAZAI AND EMPATHY: A character study Before you read: Obviously diagnosing any character in fiction seriously is a fool’s errand, but I am a fool, so let’s just do this for amusement. The main thing I desire is to discuss is the extent to which Dazai is capable of various types of empathy, as well as how that influences the way he sees and interacts with others. It will be chaotic and all over the place because I just sat down and wrote this in a fit. Let me explain some factors in analyzing Osamu: The author's intention is clearly to make Dazai's internal world a mystery. Since we don't have enough information, all we can do is hypothesize based on external elements. Generally, across all novels, the only time we’ve seen anything of Dazai’s perspective is in “The Day I picked up Dazai” (Beast continuity) – where he “saves” Oda and tortures that random dude. We don’t hear his thoughts narrated from first-person perspective, unlike many of the other novels.

Now, the crux of the issue. For years, it’s been discussed whether Dazai is a “sociopath”. If we disregard that sociopathy is a very loaded term that can mean a lot of things depending on which specialist you consult, at the very least, Dazai does strike me as someone with a unique expression of empathy, who could qualify for Anti-social personality disorder or a related condition. I will abandon the idea that Dazai is a sociopath, and use actual concepts that have legitimacy within this post. Whether Dazai could qualify for ASPD or any other disorder is something I've seen discussed for many years within the fandom. I'll try to analyze how these concepts could apply to him. In regards to mental health and Kafka (since it is a contentious matter) and the validity of any of this: I understand that a lot of people are resistant to the idea that any of the characters could have conditions more complex than depression, anxiety, and PTSD. This is my counterpoint. I have noticed that Asagiri emulates a lot of characteristics commonly attributed to “geniuses”, without confirming or potentially even intending to write these characters as having a specific condition.

A great example is Ranpo – who will read as autistic to any decent mental health professional (Untold Origins). Did Asagiri intentionally sit down and say “I am going to write an autistic character”? Maybe not. However, the “genius” stereotype is profoundly connected to visions of autism, even if people aren’t aware of it. Take people like Sherlock, House and L from Death Note – they’re commonly believed to be autistic by fans. All of these characters borrow from the same group of traits, that just happens to correspond with a certain condition - savants have always been popular in fiction. It's been known that the favorite type of character for Asagiri is the “prodigy” type, and he has used geniuses across fiction for inspiration of most notable intelligent characters within BSD. For Ranpo it was Sherlock, for Fyodor it was Joker from the Dark Knight (a classic sociopath), for Dazai it was Patrick from The Mentalist.

What I’m trying to say is, you can see various personality disorders connected to the portrayal of these geniuses, and even without confirming their state, it is clear they are either intentionally or unintentionally coded to be that way. Extremely intelligent characters not being able to read social cues, lacking empathy, disregarding rules etc. is something we commonly see in fiction. Basically, a lot of people don’t even know that these stereotypes are based on certain personality types, disorders, and illnesses. It’s sort of like drawing a character and dyeing their hair a certain shade of blue that you don’t know the particular name of: it doesn’t change the fact that you used that color, and the fact it has a name. Most authors are not mental health experts anyways, so they may not be entirely aware of every detail of the psychological framework they write the character to possess. They also may not write it consistently, as they're mostly emulating stereotypes. I mention Ranpo and autism because a character can embody traits of a stereotype without the author even necessarily having the intention to do so, however, to anyone who knows a thing or two, it is clear Ranpo is on the spectrum. If Ranpo were to express a few traits that go against this, it would not necessarily take away from the large-scale portrayal he is meant to exude: an autistic coded genius.

Why am I saying this? It is entirely possible for the author to write Dazai as a person with anti-social personality disorder, to “code” him in that way, but to not be entirely aware of how an individual with ASPD realistically tends to act.  Because he may be emulating a certain "stereotype" of a genius, he may also end up emulating specific psychological states, without making them entirely consistent in a realistic way. Writing the way individuals with ASPD tend to deal with empathy can be extremely difficult for anyone. It's easy to emulate a sociopath on a superficial level, but beyond that, it gets more challenging. How would a person with limited empathy act when they're hurting someone? That is an easier idea to handle. But how will they act in a friendly relationship? This is where it gets tricky. That is likely why someone like Dazai can never be consistently compatible with a very specific disorder: but, he can come very close. Besides, concepts such as anxiety and depression are pretty well-known, but more niche mental health conditions are not as well understood. So, BSD Osamu was written with specific attention to mental health issues because the author himself was someone who spoke heavily on the topic. I’ve read a lot of real-life Dazai Osamu, with special attention to No Longer Human (the main inspiration for BSD Dazai was Yozo) – and neither RL Dazai nor Yozo gave me the impression they could qualify for ASPD at all.

I know BSD Dazai is the opposite of the RL author in so many ways, but I guess it’s relevant to mention this because we know so little of BSD Dazai’s internal working processes, and Asagiri's main inspiration can tell us a lot about the intentions behind Dazai's portrayal. Generally, an intention or idea behind a character can give a lot of clues to us - more than anything, I am under the impression some of the main ideas behind Dazai's creation was that: 1) He doesn't feel like he belongs among humans 2) He has mental health issues However, we have difficulty defining the exact source of why all of this is in more realistic terms.

Naturally, since Dazai, an extremely socially intelligent person, sees himself as "othered", it is logical to assume he is not capable of fulfilling some emotional function most people can in a successful enough way. If he were just mentally ill in more typical ways (only depression), I theorize he wouldn't feel that "othered". He specifically is not meant to feel human. Obviously, his extreme intelligence is one of the things that isolates him, but the question is what else?

We are led to believe Dazai "sees" something the rest of us don't, and that is one of the reasons he wants to die. However, there is something more to it, as I believe it to be. We have two characters who are as intelligent as Dazai: Fyodor and Ranpo, and neither of them is suicidal, as far as we know. I believe Dazai "feels" a certain way, and then finds a way to logically justify it. Due to his intelligence, he likely falls into a complex loop which leads him to existential nihilism: but you usually don't end up in a place like that if you tend to feel alright in the first place, regardless of how smart you may be. While Dazai is certainly isolated due to his extreme intelligence, most of the people who made an impact on him are nowhere near him in that respect. In fact, I'd argue Dazai isn't even looking for someone equally intelligent to him, unlike Fyodor (this would take another post to explain).

The man who means the world to him, Oda, is more emotionally intelligent and full of common sense, but definitely not his cognitive equal. You can tell a lot about a person depending on what they value: and due to this I believe that Dazai's main issues relate to emotional matters. He primarily feels isolated due to his emotional state, and his intelligence pushes the problem further. Otherwise, he would treasure people like Ranpo and Fyodor over guys like Oda and Atsushi: he's looking for something to ease his emotional pain. Dazai doesn't seek out raw intellectual stimulation as much as comfort/excitement. This post will be an analysis of how Dazai compares to the "average" psychologically and some of the reasons he may feel so othered. Basically, my theory is that the feeling of being "othered" comes from his emotional profile, as much as it comes from his intellectual capacity. Those two take equal parts in his psyche.

Why would Dazai feel so emotionally "othered"? I believe it may have to deal with a specific personality disorder or condition, and mainly how he experiences empathy. One of the possibilities is ASPD. Anyways, let’s look into common ASPD symptoms, and then we'll look into common behavioral patterns the character shows. Dazai is equal amounts portrayed seriously and in a “jokey” way, but his worst traits and moments are usually described without humor. To preface: Keep in mind that you can have any or all of these traits without it qualifying you for a certain disorder. It is the extent to which you show it that makes a person, like Dazai, out of the norm.

1. Repeatedly breaking the law: This one goes without saying, he was in the Mob as Young as 15, and seemingly a violent criminal even before that age. To differentiate him from other members of the Mafia, it is stated by tons of people throughout the story that Dazai was practically born for this job.

Oda in Dark Era:

He was openly murderous before the age of 15, according to both The Day I picked up Dazai and Fifteen:

Dazai and Oda interacting in TDIPUD When talking to Kyouka, it seems that he has an “interesting relationship” with murder as a whole:

One thing is for sure, Dazai is much calmer, calculated, and more Machiavellian than most criminals in BSD, and this all started at an extremely young age. Many people kill when they're young, but they're not this casual about it.  The age at which he was this cold about would be of diagnostic significance.

2. Lack of remorse: Everything mentioned above, it is clear that Dazai has an even more complicated relationship with guilt and empathy. I’m pretty sure anyone in real life would consider him out of the norm, as it’s explicitly stated Dazai doesn’t feel remorse for all sorts of things he does, but there are some hints he is either ashamed of the way he is, or regrets his nature, but accepts it. What is particularly significant here is how young Dazai is when he shows a marked level of these traits. A key event that stuck with me is from the Dragon Head event in Mayoi (from my understanding it was written by Asagiri), where Shibusawa mentions Dazai will regret something (to me it sounded like he meant that killing Shibusawa will end poorly for Osamu). However, Dazai’s reaction was interesting – it was like he was almost amused that anyone would believe Dazai “could” feel regret for anything.

Mayoi Later down the timeline it’s quite questionable whether Dazai feels regret for some of his actions because he hides his feelings like a snake hides its legs, but there are implications he is somewhat remorseful if you read between the lines. More on that later. Dazai has changed compared to his past self, but to talk about that, and the extent to which he has changed would take a whole other post.

More on his lack of remorse, In “The Heartless Cur” Dazai is very young when he gets some randos from the Mafia killed in front of Akutagawa, yet his main emotions are amusement and boredom. This is not the “typical” emotional range of most people, even practiced criminals. For example, Chuuya kills people just like Dazai, but his reactions to it are entirely different.  

from The Heartless Cur Murder tends to not be the preferred or first solution Chuuya goes for: there is an expected amount of hesitance if you read into Chuuya. He put a bomb below Chuuya’s and sabotaged Ango’s car without much bother. I’d say even if you do see It as a “means to an end”, the way he did it was really cold. Usually, when people of all kinds do bad things, they have remorse and empathy they need to suppress, but with Dazai we don't see much of that. It's like he can just "do it'. He’s also really great at torture, in Side B at age 15-16, he already describes himself as a “specialist”. This is also touched upon when he speaks to Kouyou:

No matter how "grey" a character is, torture is a very specific process that takes a particular psychological profile to pull off. To be a "specialist" at it, you definitely need to possess dented empathy. Lack of remorse and empathy does not mean a person is going to be a criminal at all - it simply opens the opportunity that they may get lost in those waters more easily compared to the average person.

3. Repeatedly being deceitful I’m pretty sure we don’t have to cover this one. Yozo, the character he was loosely based on, is a big liar, and commonly uses “clowning” to distract from his real personality. Even the real Dazai Osamu wrote extensively about the concept of “lying”.   There is a lot to talk about Dazai and “masking”, and I’ll get to that in the second half of the post. Generally, Dazai lies a lot, one can’t even be sure what his personality really is. He lies by omission, manipulates, and intentionally deceives people without any issues. There are so many quotes about this that I’d probably reach the image limit right there if I wanted to reference them all. 4. Being impulsive or incapable of planning ahead Does not apply

5. Has difficulty sustaining long-term relationships: Dazai is famously a hoe. From “All women are his type” (and it seems he has zero issues getting together with any woman, young, old or even taken) to being known as “the enemy of all women” (said by Chuuya), it’s clear he is very promiscuous. Wan is in the gray area of canon, but in one of the earlier chapters he has so many love letters by different women that Atsushi burns them all. Kunikida said he hits on any woman he sees in the Entrance exam novel, which is further supported by random Wan! Chapters, silly crossovers, and everything else (literally anything female).

Not only that, but Dazai sounds like a consistently manipulative and toxic romantic partner. In an Otomedia interview, written by Asagiri, Dazai’s real type was basically something like: “Any woman is fine, because he is confident he can shape her to suit his tastes” which shows a remarkable lack of care for the personhood and individuality of his partner.

When answered what he’d do if his partner cheated or betrayed him, his answer was even more concerning. Depending on the translation, it goes something like: “He has not been cheated on, but he has cheated on others” or “he set up women to cheat on him/betray him” where both are a lot, just in different ways.

Either he is compulsively unfaithful, putting all above together, or he plays mindgames with his partners. He’s also told Kunikida that: “And from my experience, it takes only a smile and some kindness to get a woman swooning over you when she's fallen on hard times” painting an image of someone who takes advantage of people’s weaknesses to get what he wants.

Regardless, it’s clear he is very manipulative and likely emotionally abusive. I won’t even touch upon his obsession with double suicide. There’s also the fact that he seems to use sex to get what he wants – insert scene where he fucks the nurse to get his phone back.

Other than that, Dazai appears to be rather solitary. Ango and Oda are said to be “the only ones close to him” because they respected said loneliness. Even in ADA, Dazai seems to be professionally close to people, but very few people seem to know him on a personal level. I’d say he keeps people at a distance intentionally – before it was violently, later it is by being avoidant. For as much of a womanizer he is, there was that early comic where he spent Valentine’s Day drinking at Lupin “with Oda”, instead of going out with any particular person. I think this demonstrates how emotionally distant he is from all the people he interacts with

6. Being irritable and aggressive:

Dazai is not particularly aggressive, nor irritable, but he has moments where he slips. Tbh, reading back, it says a lot about Dazai’s character who he gets angry at and why. It’s important to say that when Higuchi calls him out on “Hollowing out the hearts of his opponents” in incredibly brutal ways, Dazai replies that he thinks “Sadism is just a method, and how it’s boring”.

Akutagawa is the receiver of a lot of his violence to a disproportionate degree. He beats up Akutagawa beyond what could ever be “just training”. There’s something that ticks him off about Akutagawa, which is interesting, since Dazai tends to not react this way to anyone who doesn’t touch him “intimately” in some way. A lot of people justify Dazai’s physical abuse by saying it is “training”, but it stood out to me how he kicks Akutagawa in the stomach even the first time he meets him in “Beast”, when Akutagawa is just an extremely traumatized and deprived kid he refuses to recruit. There is not much utility to that kick, to me. It felt personal.

Another example of him expressing anger is when people “called him foolish for wanting to die” – clearly he did not take it well since all of those people ended up dead. This is from “The Day I picked up Dazai” when Oda tells him he is a fool for wanting to die.

Other times Dazai expressed rage was in relation to Ango and Oda, particularly anything that related to Oda’s wellbeing.

He snaps at his subordinates when they tell him he shouldn’t be friends with someone “of such low status”, and the only time we really hear Dazai say he hates someone is when he’s torturing one of the guys who put Oda in trouble in the Beast timeline of “The day I picked up Dazai”. Obviously, he is resentful towards Ango and incapable of forgiving him. “Dead Apple” guidebook touches on it.

“Though they were once good buddies who used to drink together, to Dazai, Ango is one of the persons who caused the death of Odasaku. He still holds that resentment up to now, and is unable to forgive. Ango also seems to feel Dazai’s silent wrath towards him.”

Harukawa has said to pay attention to how cloudy the eyes of a character are to accurately interpret their psychological state. I don't think there are many times Dazai's eyes are drawn in such an extreme way - there is no "light" she talks about here. His eyes are pure black when he talks to Mori during the Guild arc.

He also agrees with Fyodor on “Malice being the best fruit that God Bestowed upon Mankind”

There is also this with Jouno:

Basically, Dazai rarely gets angry, insults don’t work on him (as he tells Chuuya), nor does beating him up, but when he does get irritated he flies off the handle and has no issue crossing any normal boundaries.

That detail is what stands out to me – usually, people have a line they won’t cross when getting mad, but for Dazai it’s like most moral lines disappear. Imo, his anger is for social standards over disproportionate in how far he’ll go and how he'll act on it– he usually has a clear intention to harm the individual he's mad about. In comparison, Chuuya is someone who gets angry more than Dazai, but Chuuya clearly has a line he won’t cross. There is also no pointed sadism in his reactions. Dazai will likely do almost anything.

Basically, it's not how much Dazai gets angry, but the way he gets mad that sticks out to me. Most importantly, Dazai only ever gets enraged if it concerns something very personal and intimate: Oda and his death, his suicide attempts etc. At this point, for me, It’s safe to say that if Dazai gets extremely angry, it means the topic affects him on a deep level (a hint to whatever Is happening between him and Akutagawa, I could talk a lot about that). 

More on Dazai’s unpredictable and violent nature:

Stormbringer I think there is a valid argument in seeing Dazai’s aggression as just a tool he uses to keep others at bay, something to hold over people and control them – but even then, it shows a marked disinterest in social norms people usually respect.

7.Having a reckless disregard for their safety or the safety of others This one builds upon all the others. However, it’s always been interesting to me how it’s clear something flies over Dazai’s head when it comes to regularly empathizing with others.

This is often seen with Chuuya. In my opinion, most of the bullying Dazai gives Chuuya is not motivated out of rage, but rather some form of spite. He goes at length to Rimbaud about planning Chuuya’s murder in “15”, then he also lets Chuuya be tortured in “Stormbringer”.

I am under the impression he sees these moments as “amusing” and doesn’t fully emotionally understand why this is something bad, even if he does on a rational level. I’ll say that Dazai did seem to show some rage whenever anyone hurt him physically in the past (seems likely to be a hint to a traumatic past), which Chuuya did when they met, but I don’t get the impression he is generally angry with Chuuya, it’s more like he just enjoys fucking with him. Ironically, for how rarely Dazai gets angry, it seems he reserves his rage/irritation exclusively for people and things he cares about, so Dazai being specifically irritated at Chuuya is just a sign of how much the guy gets to him.

If Dazai were angry at Chuuya, it is in character that he would try to hurt him a lot more than he does. However, I'd say Dazai has a blurry space for what's ok between "keeping someone purely safe" and "deeply hurting them". There is some lack of emotional empathy there - to him, it is more amusing than anything to see someone he finds interesting struggle.

Dazai sees boundaries differently. He’ll put people into danger or through discomfort without worrying much, especially if he’s sure they’re going to walk and live after it, but sometimes not even that. (there’s so many examples of it). I’d say it’s not that Dazai doesn’t care, he just cares about people differently compared to what we’re used to socially.

Regarding personal safety, it’s pretty obvious: he’s a suicide maniac, but even more, he also puts himself in harm’s way all the time without any anxiety present. Examples are when he provokes that sniper in Dark Era (when Oda gets angry at him and wants to punch him), knows he is going to get shot by Fyodor, but lets himself get hurt anyway. When he “dies” in 55 minutes, he seems “lightly” surprised, but there’s no strong reaction to it.  To me, it seems that the only physical harm he dislikes is pain he suffers from another person (when he doesn’t plan it). Dazai apparently doesn’t feel much “anxiety” – I remember many different times when he comments on another character’s timidness or meekness, seeing it as something unusual.

8. Behave irresponsibly and show disregard for normal social behaviour He’s extremely eccentric, and even Ranpo says he doesn’t get him. Dazai asks women to commit suicide the moment he meets them, and often attempts suicide around people even if it distresses them (Entrance exam).

While I think he made this excuse in Dark Era to Taneda because he didn’t want to work with Ango, I do believe he believes what he said: “You’d lose your job if I did that.” Dazai wryly smirked. “I don’t like places with lots of rules.” Not being able to accept conventional rules is very often a telltale sign of a personality disorder. Clearly, Dazai fits many of the criteria necessary for having ASPD, so let’s look at some other details that are common for people with ASPD.

Masking: In psychology and sociology, masking is the process in which an individual camouflages their natural personality or behavior to conform to social pressures. Masking is common with many disorders, such as autism, ASPD etc. I am pretty sure it’s canon Dazai masks – on a BSD exhibit, the key element Asagiri wanted to talk about in Dazai’s personality was related to this.  

“When I describe Dazai to the staff, there is a phrase that I always use, “an unworldly being with a mental age of two thousand years.” Dazai has far surpassed the mental dimension that human can reach, thus no-one can even tell if the emotions he shows are the real things or not.

There are rare moments when that Dazai shows his very “human” side. That is when he talks to another superhuman who is on the same level with him. The other is when he talks about his old friend who has passed. This is the scene when Kyouka wondered “Maybe I’m, after all, just a murderer at heart.” and refused to be saved. And Dazai’s reaction to that. When he said “Don’t give me any of that!” here, he really meant it. That was an outburst from Dazai, as a 22-year-old boy, in this scene.” Light novels often describe his smile as fake, mask-like, and I could probably find 20 panels where Harukawa clearly drew him to intentionally seem like a fake smiler. From “15” to “Entrance exam”, Dazai often drops his mask, and then goes back to acting silly just to make the other person relax. He does this with everyone, Mori, Kunikida, Atsushi, etc. Chuuya also mentions that Dazai’s “happy-go-lucky” personality in ADA is something new, and he believes it doesn’t fit him.

Kunikida says this in the Entrance Exam: "For someone so full of eccentricities, there is something about his behavior that makes it seem as if he has an unobstructed view of the world. I don’t know exactly why, but all his emotions strike me as an act to some degree. Is he just playing dumb? Could there be more to him than he’s letting on, lurking behind his ambiguous mannerisms?"

More than anything, Dazai himself says that Oda was the person closest to seeing his “real” personality. That pretty much confirms he keeps his real self hidden away. I’d say that there are several possibilities to why this is: He hides it because he dislikes being vulnerable, he doesn’t know how to act “normal”, people are unable to understand him, so masking makes it easier for him to communicate with others…there’s a lot of theorizing I could do here.

Dazai also tends to have interesting thoughts about personalities as a concept.

You’ll commonly see Dazai say something serious, followed by a severe reaction of the other character, ending with Dazai changing his demeanor and saying “just kidding” to lighten the air.

Manipulation: Dazai is extremely Machiavellian – he is prone to manipulating everyone around him, regardless of how much they care about him or not. He manipulated Chuuya into joining the mafia, he does the same with Akutagawa even today: Here we have him preying on Aku's insecurities to sabotage his self-confidence

He seems to be able to cut off his emotions from any situation, seeing people in a raw, factual sense.

There are several moments throughout the novels where Dazai talks about people as if they’re purely resources or pawns. An example of this in Dead Apple (where Chuuya gets angry because he doesn't respect people or show enough sympathy)

The way he speaks of Atsushi, when asked what he thinks of him in a guidebook, is something like “developing as expected”. Especially in the original, it sounds extremely factual, mechanical, and cold. To me, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about Atsushi, he’s just the type to compartmentalize his emotions in opposition to his thinking. This is very common for a few personality disorders and mental health conditions: the capacity to totally cut off your emotions from the equation.  Obviously, many people are capable of doing this to one extent or another, but the amount to which he does it is what makes it significant.

Lack of traditional empathy: Personally, I think everything comes down to this. Dazai's experiences with empathy are one of the main themes of his character arc. I believe one of the things that makes him feel othered is his lack of emotional empathy.

People with ASPD tend to have issues experiencing what a lot of people consider “typical” empathy – however, ASPD is also on a large spectrum, so experiences certainly vary. Keep in mind that "lack of empathy" is common for all sorts of disorders, but since ASPD seems to be one of the most popular choices for Dazai, I decided to start there.

Before we continue, there are 2 types of empathy: Cognitive empathy is the ability to recognize and understand someone’s feelings and experiences and imagine yourself in those scenarios. Emotional empathy is experiencing shared emotions with someone or feeling emotions as though the experience is your own.

People with ASPD can commonly do the first type easily, and struggle with the second one. It does not mean they cannot experience emotional empathy, it’s just rarer for them to feel it. In my opinion, Dazai heavily relies on Cognitive empathy compared to Emotional empathy.

You can see often that he seems to not entirely understand “why” something is wrong on a personal level, but he can logically see it. This is a running theme, and you can commonly see that Dazai doesn’t fully understand “normal”.

“15” Asagiri seems to be writing Dazai as someone who has gone “beyond the human dimension” in his skills and intelligence, so other people can’t fully understand him, but I think this goes both ways. Dazai has lost touch with what’s the standard human experience.

One of the times Chuuya specifically calls out Dazai for not "acting human-like" is when he's not expressing empathy and respect. It is clear that Dazai's lack of empathy is one of the aspects which make others see him as "inhuman".

There is another situation with Kunikida  during the Azure Messenger arc where Dazai seems to apologize for not getting something “is normal”, it slips by you very easily. It is framed as a joke, and it can be read as him making fun of Kuni, but Kunikida asks himself why Dazai apologized. It does read a bit unusually.

To me it seems like Dazai doesn’t fully emotionally understand other people, so when his mask slips you can see that he struggles a ton with getting what’s exactly “typical”.

Because Dazai is extremely intelligent, he masks in order to fit into society, and he does it successfully since he can intellectually understand most social and emotional functions and processes. However, he slips up like everyone does. This is why he got along with Oda well – since Oda just let him act like himself without having ulterior motives. Dazai didn’t have to “mask”. He didn't see Dazai as "just anyone", but he also realized Dazai was human. Basically, to Oda Dazai was a kid that had empathy issues, but he was struggling much like everyone else.

Personally, I feel like Dazai doesn’t feel entirely “human” because he doesn’t feel “emotional empathy” on the same level as other people, and this is one of the key issues of the character (as it's clearly stated in the Dead Apple manga, where Dazai does seem a bit upset by Chuuya's reaction)

. The reason he felt “seen” by Oda is because Oda fully recognized this and still believed Dazai could do “good”. In our society, it is common for people to think that "empathy" and "sympathy" are conditions for being a good person, but it isn't so simple. The possible complexity of Dazai's moral state is why I find the character so interesting - a person without traditional empathy choosing to be good is really fascinating. (more on this later).

Boredom and general emptiness: “Boredom” is an extremely common complaint for people with ASPD – in fact, intense, non-standard boredom, along with other symptoms such as atypical experience with empathy, is one of the easiest ways to recognize ASPD. A “numbed” emotional state is common for people with ASPD, and due to their different emotional range and inability to connect with others in a more typical fashion, they are prone to “boredom” and seeking out extreme experiences.

Alcoholism/Substance abuse is common for people with ASPD, and it’s pretty much canon Dazai drinks a lot (alcohol is even in his likes). Aside from that, Dazai often cites boredom as one of the main reasons he wants to die, and I remember so many instances where he complains about it in bizarre circumstances. This is common for people with ASPD: depression/suicidality is comorbid, and I have heard people with ASPD mention they wanted their life to end once they no longer have enough stimulation. Dazai is often stated to be “bored”, or look bored even when extremely horrifying things are happening (people dying around him/telling their life stories..).  An example with Mori where he talks about wishing to die (from 15):

Another really funny thing, a lot of people with ASPD I have seen tend to dislike “dogs”. Obviously, this hatred comes from the real life Dazai being scared of them and thinking they can attack at any moment, but it’s a funny coincidence. They tend to dislike dogs for an entirely different reason than Dazai does, to be fair.

How Dazai seems to see himself and morals in general

Generally, to me it seems like Dazai is not entirely happy with his nature. He admires Oda and doesn’t understand why he wouldn’t use his talents to rise up in ranks within the Mafia, simply because that is logical to Dazai – perhaps it is that difference between them that he enjoys so much. He is frequently attracted to displays of empathy:

Examples: 1. Ango documenting the deaths of people within the mafia even if it’s “just a waste of money” 2. Almost everything Atsushi and Oda do

He often describes altruism as “interesting”. I am also under the impression that Dazai has a tendency to project his nature onto others, which we can gather from his “Evil expects evil from others” quote to Mori. Furthermore, he sadly remarks in Dark Era that he is “a man despised by righteousness”. so I feel like there is something up here, some sort of guilt, distaste or shame.

This tells me:

a)Dazai sees himself as “evil”

b)He is constantly assuming the worst in others or is prepared for the worst

Another thing this tells me is that Dazai is someone who is likely extremely wary of people’s intentions. This is a ubiquitous theme all across BSD, especially when we see him as a kid. Osamu tends to be skeptical of everyone and everything, as if he’s waiting for people to betray or fuck him over at any corner. In TDIPUD, he keeps getting upset that he can't figure out Oda, since it makes no sense for him to be so charitable for absolutely no reason. Oda said “good and evil are the same to you” – personally I interpret this as Dazai being largely amoral rather than immoral.  Whether Dazai can be described as “good”, “evil” or “neutral” largely depends on your view of ethics. Just because someone lacks traditional empathy, it doesn't mean they are necessarily sadistic or bad at all. Immoral and Amoral are two words that sound similar but have different meanings. Immoral is an adjective that describes “something against pre-established morals, ethics, or standard societal practices.” Amoral, on the other hand, is an adjective that describes “something or someone completely lacking morals.” In common society, if you’re not “good”, you are often automatically “evil”. Basically, a person who has "no morals" is just as bad as a person who has cruel beliefs, but those two fundamentally differ. However, in a technical, utilitarian fashion – this is often seen to be true. More or less, “good” is the neutral state, and the more you step away from it, the more “evil” you are perceived to be. The more moral conventions you break, the more "evil" you are, regardless of your intentions. The results of the actions matter more than the source and motivations. In the end, a person is dead, regardless of why you killed them or how you felt about it. The reasons why people do conventionally moral things can be all over the place too - people aren't always kind because they have sympathy. When I hear “evil and good are the same to you”, it sounds like Dazai has no need for either, meaning, yes, he has no inherent need to do good, but no need for bad, he is simply not opposed to either of them. Regardless of what he's doing, he feels the same way. They're both tools to satisfy particular needs. Many people read this and say "aha, so if he sees no difference between the two, that means he is evil", but I think the truth is in the middle. I always say that to estimate Dazai's moral framework, you need to judge him outside of normal conventions. Basically, his starting point in making decisions is different. He begins his process likely by thinking "what will this bring me?" Most of his “evil” is not out of pure sadism, it’s just that he feels no need to stop himself due to moral conventions, he mostly cares about practical results. This is opposed to Kunikida who cares about ideals and morals in a vacuum and pursues them in their most idealized version (and it's well known Asagiri writes duos as opposites). Entrance exam as a novel was about how idealism can lead people to ruin when it's unrealistic.

He’s naturally immune to socialized pressure that forms the moral frameworks of most people on an emotional level. All of this is very common for ASPD, and a few other conditions. The more I see Dazai talk about how he sees the concept of personality, murder, morality – the more I am convinced his ethical framework is focused on results rather than the inherent morality of said actions. Example: He's going to lie to you to make you happy, even though "lying is bad". There is no inherent value in staying honest if it makes an individual miserable in the long run, even though society sees frankness as a virtue. That way, most actions are “open” for Dazai to undertake, he has no qualms most people have against them, since he doesn’t have socialized morals. A lot of the time, we only see certain things as "unconditionally bad" because we've been socialized to see them that way, even if it's not necessarily logical. He simply lacks socialized morals, leading to a tendency to be amoral. Everything is a means to an end, every action is alright if it's a tool that has more pros than cons. Oda's death was a useful character arc, since it led Dazai to taking Oda's moral framework as his own. He doesn't believe he is better than others, nor does he enjoy hurting random people, he doesn't kill or rob randos to get something and believes he is justified in it. Things of that type would make him “immoral”. Most of Dazai’s evil actions seem utilitarian, rather than committed for the pure act of pleasure or cruelty. When I say “amoral”, I mean this from Dazai’s point of view. Since he has no “moral boundaries”, all actions are open for him to undertake. He can go as far as he wants to any extreme largely depending on his subjective worldview and feelings (as seen in Beast, where he breaks all sorts of ethical codes of being "a good man" so Oda could get a decent life). However, since he is aware that there is a fight between good and bad in every person, and that evil tends to win out compared to the good, under enough pressure, he admires people who selflessly continue to be kind. That is why Oda, a highly moral person even beyond what is logical (his insistence to not kill even if it harms him) is the opposite that pushed him to change. Ulterior motives tend to be something Dazai is worried about in people, perhaps because he is possibly projecting all he is, or can be, on others. He describes Oda specifically as:

"a man who has no ulterior motive". Oda is obviously being a good person partially out of self-interest ("people live to save themselves"), but this self-interest is not destructive. I think for Dazai, it was difficult to find people who didn't have an ulterior motive that was ultimately hurtful, and he projected that onto everyone. Oda acting in his self-interest was ultimately beneficial to everyone. All in all, while Dazai does admire Oda's morals - I think a lot of this appreciation comes from an intimate and subjective place, where he feels comforted someone like Oda even existed. Continuing Oda's work is likely an extension of this as well. Keep in mind, any person has the right to see Dazai's actions as bad, as they often are. I am more speaking of Dazai's internal mental framework. Conclusion: Dazai has no inherent need to do good or bad, for the most part. He just goes as far as he needs to to satisfy his emotional needs.

Oda saved Dazai’s life in the day I picked up Dazai, and listened to him, but expected nothing in return. I feel that Oda saw this struggle within Dazai, and the way “good and evil don’t mean much to him” due to his disorder, but recognized that Dazai perhaps didn’t want to be this way.

Since Oda saw Dazai’s “irregular” nature, and still believed he could be a good person, Dazai was touched and decided to change his life. I believe Dazai had some distaste for himself, regardless of his lack of empathy, he could recognize what he was doing was not entirely right. As Asagiri mentioned, Oda told him exactly what he needed to hear, and the fact that these words were so life-changing to Dazai tells us a lot about what he had on his mind.  In my opinion, to see who Dazai is, you need to follow exactly which words got to him.

In my opinion, it likely meant a lot that a person he actually admired wanted to be in his life, especially a person he considered so kind like Oda. He often says that Oda is “the most interesting person he knows”. Imo, this is because “empathy” is one of the things Dazai doesn’t fully understand. He had to learn it. Since he understands human nature so well, cognitive empathy comes easy to him, but he still fucks up sometimes.

Here, I also feel like he is talking about himself – he sees himself in Kyouka. It doesn’t come naturally to Dazai to be “good”, but he is trying his best, that is his ideal now. (Asagiri said this was one of Dazai's rare human moments). For that reason, I think Dazai admires empathetic people and tends to dislike those who are naturally violent, or even choose to be violent out of sadism.

On the BSD exhibit, Asagiri said Atsushi was "an empathy user", and how that is the key to his character. During one interview, the author mentioned that Dazai keeps testing Kunikida's ideals, but Osamu secretly hopes that Doppo will prove to be right, and Dazai wrong. This to me paints a picture of someone who hopes that "good" is worth it, at least from an intellectual point of view. When talking with Fyodor, he seems to admire people who live emotionally, thinking god doesn't prefer perfection, logic and harmony.

"The ones who actually make the world run Are those who scream in the storm of uncertainty and run with flowing blood"

Dazai seems to reject the idea that him and Fyodor and better because they are more calculating and cold - like I mentioned earlier in this god-forsaken post, this to me says Dazai believes empathetic and emotional people are better than him.

"I've come to see it many times, his gimmicks are the accidental and illogical that's a weakness two of us have in common" He suffers because he is not like them, and that contributes to him feeling "othered".

Negative emotions and Akutagawa

My guess is that one of the reasons Dazai has so many issues with Akutagawa is because he is projecting his own issues with his lack of empathy onto him. This makes him relate to Akutagawa, but also dislike him beyond how he usually treats people. Akutagawa questions why Dazai's acts of violence are justified, while Osamu is judging Akutagawa: to me it sounds that Dazai sees his actions as at least partly justified because they are "logical" and utilitarian. He puts a difference between him and Aku, as if Dazai's natural instinct is not to mindlessly hurt others. However, it's interesting he needs to draw this line.

I believe Dazai sees a lot of the hurt he enacts on others as either "justified" or subconsciously defensive. "If I don't hurt others, they will hurt me", and he uses this against all kinds of people to keep them in control. In the Dark Era novel, Dazai speaks of Akutagawa like this:

“When I first saw him over in the slums, I was horrified. His talents are extraordinary, and his skill is extremely destructive. Plus, he’s stubborn. If I’d left him to his own devices, he would’ve ended up a slave to his own powers until he destroyed himself.” Interestingly, Dazai was "horrified" at what Akutagawa was capable of, where most things don't seem to exactly phase him. I think something about Aku's capacity for violence even scares him, and he "lashes" out in response to control him.

Later on Oda calls out Dazai's thinking indirectly in Beast, saying that hurting Aku is still bad no matter why he did it. (more on this in the next section) However, it’s very clear he cares for Akutagawa in “Chopsticks and a Spoon”, so I do feel like he’s likely aware of it. In fact, that story contains one of the gentlest expressions Dazai has pointed at anyone, so I think he partially sees Akutagawa as "innocent" in nature, and more like a wounded animal. I'll likely write a post about it. Since Dazai has expressed some lament or even shame regarding him being a person "hated by righteousness", I do think he is a bit ashamed of who he is. This part is a theory: When talking about "No Longer Human", Asagiri mentioned that he felt the book was about "embarrassment". Since Dazai is canonically famously based on Yozo to some extent, I feel that we can guess that Osamu likely does feel some shame - the question is about what. The rare times we see BSD Dazai express something similar to shame is when talking about his moral nature (when he beat up Akutagawa in Dark Era), but it's a "blink and you'll miss it" type of thing. Yozo and RL Dazai's relationship with his father was one of the cornerstones of his work (NLH even ends with him mentioning how he would have been alright if he had a better relationship with his father). Within the book, Yozo feels all sorts of things which make him feel "inhuman", but he is terrified about being open about it due to his strict father who sees him as somewhat strange. Since the theme of "fatherhood" was lightly touched upon when Atsushi's orphanage director died, I do think this is potentially a sore spot for BSD Dazai too. My guess is that Dazai likely had a poor relationship with his father figure, who saw him as "strange" or "inhuman" due to the way he acted: leading BSD Dazai to feel shame over his nature. Perhaps one of the things that made his father see Dazai as inhuman was his lack of typical ethics and empathy. Osamu internalized this - and ended up becoming a criminal at a very young age, perhaps in an attempt to confirm what hurt him, seeing himself as someone who could mostly do bad (which could be one of the reasons he wanted to die so young). Perhaps Oda making a way for him to "act good" was life-changing because of that too - it targeted a specific wound. All of this is speculation, but Dazai did mention that "self-pity leads you to living a life that is an endless nightmare". My guess is he was talking about himself there: and his own experiences with shame. To extend this: I think one of the reasons Dazai is so harsh on Akutagawa is because he is possibly projecting his relationship with his father onto Aku. Akutagawa is violent and troubled, and Dazai was shamed for the same thing. (but it would take a lot of time to work through this theory, so moving on..)

Dazai exhibiting empathy However, Dazai does show empathy for Oda, and a lot of it. I’d go as far as to say that he over-empathizes with Oda, while he underempathizes with everyone else. His relationships with the people closest to him tend to be why some people think he may have BPD. Especially due to devaluation and the "favorite person" concept. For someone with this type of BPD relationship, a “favorite person” is someone they rely on for comfort, happiness, and validation. A FP is a person who someone with BPD relies heavily on for emotional support, seeks attention and validation from, and looks up to or idealizes. For Dazai, this is Oda. On the other hand, In the context of BPD, “devaluation” refers to a psychological defense mechanism or coping strategy that individuals with BPD may employ in their interpersonal relationships. Devaluation involves a shift in the person’s perception of others, where they view someone they previously idealized or held in high regard as unworthy, flawed, or worthless. They become unworthy of their affection and praise. The person with BPD may engage in behaviors such as intense criticism, verbal attacks, withdrawal, or even cutting off contact with the person they have devalued. These actions are often driven by the individual’s fear of rejection, abandonment, or a desire to protect themselves from potential hurt or disappointment. For Dazai, the clearest example of this is Ango. However, a person can exhibit the "favorite person" and project the phenomenon of devaluation without having BPD. In my opinion, Dazai does show heightened polarity in his feelings toward others, but I am not sure if BPD would be my choice for him. It's very difficult to say, as many conditions mask as BPD, and Dazai's expression of empathy is unique.

Dazai idealizes Oda, and deeply sees his pain as his own, while he always frames Akutagawa in a negative light, even though he is likely one of the people Dazai cares about the most (next to Oda, Chuuya, Ango, Atsushi, especially according to Beast). Another example of his heightened negative emotions are Ango, and Chuuya to a much lesser extent. My guess is that Dazai doesn’t deal with caring about people well, especially when they are any sort of “threat”: which is why he tries to “bully” them down. The reason he goes easier on Chuuya than Akutagawa is because he feels Chuuya is in his nature more sympathetic.

In my opinion, the moment Dazai warmed up to Chuuya was when he realized that The Sheep were pushing Chuuya around: he was no “King of the sheep”, he was acting out of empathy and care. Since Chuuya is so powerful, it was likely admirable to Dazai that he didn’t abuse his abilities for self-gain. This is when he decided to isolate Chuuya from the Sheep: and I think the reason above is specifically why

I'd say Dazai is likely "spikey" to anyone he cares about but has less confidence they won't hurt him. There are two camps of people: 1. Atsushi, Oda, Kunikida, Sigma (generally upright, meek, moral at the end of the day) 2. Chuuya, Akutagawa, and lastly Ango (people who are aggressive, challenging, and need to be put down in Dazai's eyes).

He cares about both camps (Sigma is debatable, I spoke of the type of personality Dazai seems to deal with easily in his case), but he likely feels "less safe" with the second type. Mori could potentially go into the second camp - there is some respect and resentment there at the same time. He even talks about this with Kunikida in Entrance exam.

"“I guess. But you, Kunikida, I’ve got a good idea of who you are now, so nothing you do will ever surprise me. I mean, compared with me, you’re just a simple man with a simple mind, after all.”

See? You wear your heart on your sleeve. You don’t hide how you’re really feeling. It’s nice. You know what else is nice? Just knowing that you’re going to be worrying later to yourself, ‘Am I really that simple?’”

“Why, you—”

But I refrain from arguing. Whatever my response, he’s just going to end up telling me, “I knew you’d say that.”

I suppose that being around Kunikida comforts him since he is predictable, yet kind. On the other hand, someone like Chuuya excites him, because he is wild and challenging enough, but is still a good person when it comes down to it. Basically, Dazai is hypervigilant of pain.

Akutagawa is “off the chain” in comparison to all of them. I am under the impression that Dazai can care about people without treating them well at all, and 2 of the people who are at the top of his list (Chuuya and Aku) are people he “seems” to dislike (In Chuuya’s case rather openly in his profile).

It appears that the more “intense” and “unpolished” parts of Dazai’s personality are strictly reserved for people he cares about, but he is extremely selective about who he shows emotional empathy to as it’s such a rare experience for him. He may capable of "cutting off" empathy to protect himself emotionally. It is quite clear some aspects of empathy miss him broadly in Beast, when he appears shocked that Oda would react so strongly to endangering Akutagawa since “it’s all supposed to end well if he survives”. That sentence itself is totally tone-deaf, yet Dazai is acting as if Oda is supposed to take that normally. It’s quite clear that Dazai doesn’t treat Atsushi all that well in Beast either, as he exploits his fears for Atsushi to be totally obedient to him.

I really like this moment, because it demonstrates that even if Dazai does have some point regarding Akutagawa and the way he goes about things, the way he has treated him is still too much – and Dazai can’t exactly convince Oda, a decent person, why this is ever justifiable under any circumstances. There is an aspect of regular empathy that misses Dazai – it doesn’t cross his mind why his actions are inherently bad. Perhaps it is possible that Dazai was treated with little to no empathy growing up, so he accepted that as a model for acceptable behavior. A lot of the time, cruel actions don't seem to even register to him as bad, in an almost innocent way. It's like it doesn't cross his mind that stuff is out of the ordinary. When talking to Oda about this, he was described as "childlike".

However, Dazai shows a lot of extreme emotional empathy for Oda, which tends to be rare for people with ASPD (obviously, all traits of it are on a spectrum).

Dazai clearly feels as if he himself is being beaten when Oda suffers. Furthermore, “Beast” shows that he is willing to endanger multiple people he cares about so Oda could live and write his book. In his words “the me from other worlds doesn’t care about the world” – showing that even though he may “care” about people, it’s really hard for him to fully emotionally connect with others.

This leads him to severe feelings of loneliness and isolation, but it’s quite clear Oda is the exception to this.

Dazai has multiple anxiety attacks when meeting with Oda in Beast and TIPUD:

“I see.” Oda says after he gives it a moment of thought. “I’ll do so then. That is very kind of you. You are a good guy.”

Dazai’s expression becomes distorted.

He opens his mouth, and closes it again, as if he can no longer breathe.

If he tells him everything now, maybe things will go back to how they were. The two of them will go to the bar together and have a toast. Just like that night.

“Odasa…”

Just as Dazai is about to say that name, a train passes by. The express train passing through that station cuts through the silence of the night, right next to where Dazai and Oda is."

and obviously the whole showdown at the bar. Earlier, Oda mentions that Dazai looks like he is about to cry:

 An interesting part here is that Dazai gets shocked that Oda would even consider that Dazai could hurt him:

It almost sounds absurd that Dazai, who is known for scheming even against people he likes, would be that surprised someone would expect this from him. This, to me, shows that Dazai does have that underdeveloped, childish emotional side to himself, where he doesn’t understand everything he does. It’s quite logical why Oda, or anyone else, would be consistently doubtful of Dazai, yet he is so used to not caring about anyone, that when he does feel things he is remarkably unpolished and just as illogical as anyone else. I’d say his heart is like a knife that went blunt from lack of use. Since he has no experience dealing with people he feels strongly about, it always comes across very messy – and Asagiri himself often describes him as childish at his most vulnerable.

Furthermore, the lyrics of the song for Beast have these words to say: “Loving you to death won’t kill me Because I don’t love this world enough” And in the Beast novel, he mentions all he has to give to the world is love. I think we can certainly see that Dazai is not emotionless.

To me it seems like Dazai is capable of selective emotional empathy. I feel like one of the reasons Oda was “the one” Dazai attached himself to the most, is because Oda was a struggling man who was also depressed (rather clear the more you read), but he was empathetic and accepted Dazai for who he was.

Him and Dazai had difficulties in common (the guy was a killer as a kid too), yet Oda did his best to be a good person – that is one of the reasons, as Asagiri mentions, why he had an “outburst” when Kyouka implied former killers can’t be good people. Oda was a good person in his eyes, and his role model of “empathy”: someone he wished to emulate. I am pretty sure that Oda became the blueprint for the moral compass he strives towards.

Most importantly, Oda didn’t really judge Dazai when he showed his lack of empathy, while he remained firm in what he believed in.

“Odasaku is the type of person who will never lecture anyone. Because he does not consider himself a superior person who can teach and guide others. However, it doesn’t mean that he has nothing he wants to say. The sentiments that he couldn’t convey in these two scenes were finally delivered to Dazai in the last scene through the words “Become a good person.” Very meaningful scenes when read as a set.”

is how Asagiri described Oda during the exhibit. As Asagiri says, one of the reasons he didn’t tell Dazai anything when he provoked the sniper was his modesty. Since Oda didn’t look down on him, yet showed concern and fully understood Dazai wasn’t just a struggling depressed kid, but someone with serious issues who also happened to be a child – Dazai grew to deeply care for him. Oda didn't shame him, likely avoiding Dazai's hypervigilant sensor for pain.

Selective empathy is common for many disorders – and Dazai, after not feeling “seen” his whole life, ended up making a true connection with Oda. I guess, in that sense – Oda was the one who really reached Dazai’s heart, and since he was the only one who came that close, all of Dazai’s emotional empathy is reserved for him.

In my opinion, the reason Dazai was so difficult to “get to” was that even people who had good intentions toward him never truly saw him.

To see Dazai as a depressed woobie who just needs to be saved is to idealize him – which wouldn’t exactly help him. They’re talking about a version of him that doesn’t exist. If the only way he could be seen as worthwhile was someone seeing him as more “traditionally good” than he truly is, it’s not going to work. He needs to be seen for exactly who he is, and still given a chance to be better.

Likewise, it had to be someone who wasn’t helping him in order to get something from him. I would say that one of the main reasons why Dazai got so attached to Oda was because his friend had no reason to save him, he gave him space, and didn’t even force himself into Dazai’s life.

It was purely altruistic, and for Dazai, who expects the worst from others and seems to fear people’s intentions, this was perfect. One of the main aspects of Dazai's character is his anxious-avoidant attachment style, where he is likely so afraid of potential pain, he pushes others away, or punishes anyone he cares about who might hurt him preemptively. A lot of this is not impulsive, but calculated, which is why he feels a natural resistance to Akutagawa (but relates to him and cares all the more because of it). He understands the self-destructive nature of Akutagawa.

"If I’d left him to his own devices, he would’ve ended up a slave to his own powers until he destroyed himself.”" I believe Dazai likely allows himself to fully empathize with Oda because he feels only Oda is "safe" in this world. The fact that Oda is dead and gone perhaps makes caring for him even safer, as his image of Oda will never change.

Conclusion: I'd say Dazai is someone who is probably extremely traumatized, with a specific emotional profile that doesn't allow him to experience empathy like normal people do - and this is one of the defining traits of the character for me. He is able to isolate himself from normal social pressures and boundaries - and because of this and his extreme intellect, he feels like an alien in this world. A lot of his struggle likely deals with the fact that he dislikes the hurtful person he is, but has difficulty seeing why he should be better - all while he has a distaste for sadism, cruelty and senseless violence in others. In my opinion, a lot of his own cruelty is "reactive": he acts "evil" because he expects the same from others ("evil expects evil from others), and decides he wants to beat them to the punch. He is comforted when he is in the presence of altruistic and empathetic people, because he doesn't have to be what he dislikes (as "enemy" evil will always make him react since he is threatened). In the end, he rationally sees that cruelty is negative, but he still feels it is an effective tool. If Dazai weren't this way, he wouldn't consistently choose empathetic people for his company throughout the story, while acting callous himself most of the time.

A lot of things Dazai does to me feel like he is avoiding hurt, or attempting to "control the pain" he gets in his life. Notably, Dazai mostly lets himself get "bullied" by people he sees as innocent and simple like Kunikida, since "Kunikida will never surprise him" - he knows that Doppo won't cross the line. Ironically, he famously says he "dislikes physical pain", but often gets himself into physically dangerous scenarios.

It's like he doesn't mind pain if he's the one in control (when Fyodor let the sniper shoot him, when that dude from Mimic shot him point blank). Avoidance of pain and control are other keys to Dazai's character. In that sense, I think Dazai was possibly traumatized and learned to almost completely disassociate from empathy early in his life. There are so many theories I could think of here that we'd get nowhere.

It is clear that Dazai is capable of extreme emotional empathy due to his relationship with Oda, and it's possible he doesn't allow himself to feel it in most scenarios due to his avoidant nature regarding pain. However, whatever the reason behind it, it is clear he doesn't feel a ton of emotional empathy in his day-to-day life, and this disassociation from empathy has crafted him into a person who doesn't fully understand "normal humans".

That is why he sees them as fascinating after Oda dies - he reaches Dazai's heart and opens him up to the idea that not all people are unempathetic and cruel - meaning Dazai doesn't always have to be on guard. Does Dazai have ASPD, or is his lack of empathy a result of other things: PTSD, CPTSD, is he perhaps autistic? I can't say for sure, as it could be so many things. Personally, anyone could make an argument for any of these in my eyes. Above, I mostly analyzed his displays of empathy and tried to study which emotional patterns he appears to follow. I think Dazai's character arc has a lot of worth specifically because we see someone for whom emotional empathy may not be natural trying to be good. It's a unique ethical dilemma, and that's one of the reasons I feel in love with the series. Since it isn't natural for him, his efforts mean a lot, and the struggle feels real and genuine.

Thank you all for reading if you made it this far <3 I've taken a lot of posts and translations I've gathered over the years, and I am sure I won't be able to thank everyone, but, I'd like to show appreciation for popopretty, aja154ever and many others for sharing info from exhibitions, databooks and so. Have a nice day !

[adrift-in-thyme]

@uncleskyrule happy belated birthday!!! Thank you so much for your patience while I wrote this! I hope it's worth the wait!

------------------------------------------------------------------

Four knows what sleep deprivation looks like. 

He’s seen it spelled out on his grandfather’s face when long days turn his usual joviality to melancholy exhaustion and draws the shadows of half moons beneath his eyes.

He’s seen it painted across Dot’s beautiful features after an arduous night when the memories resurface, memories of a leering crimson eye, of claims to possession hanging heavy over her, of cages and darkness and smothering magic. 

He’s seen it shadowed across his own face too, when the battles within and without grow to be too much, darkening his features, drawing them thin, sucking the youthful fat from his cheeks, the light from his eyes.

And he’s seen it…on the faces of his brothers.

On Time’s when the moon is full. On Twilight’s when a quiet twilight falls and skeletal trees whisper in tongues known only to some. On Wild’s when the amnesia recedes, Warriors’ when phantom lips press across his cheek, Wind’s after he awakens screaming his sister’s name. On Hyrule’s when he gives too much, Legend’s when the adventures he never speaks of tell their tale in his petrified cries at night…

And now on, Sky’s.

Some may find it strange for a man who can drift off practically anywhere to suffer from fatigue. Add to that uncanny ability, Sky’s penchant for seeming one of the most mature of their little group, the most…put together.

But Four is well acquainted with the deceptions someone can tell through demeanor alone. He himself has been dubbed mature, put together, responsible. And while, yes, those labels are true (Four would certainly be cross if people decided to start dubbing him childish or, Hylia forbid, a disaster as they call some more unruly children in his Hyrule), the lie rests in the assumptions they bring about.

Beliefs of invincibility and impervious spirit. Beliefs that there is no need to be gentle or kind, no need to offer respite or lighten the load.

It is the same fate their leader suffers so often, the same Warriors and Twilight sometimes crumble beneath. Suffering silently, yet always strong. So strong.

And Sky…

Sky hides it better than anyone.

Four is uncertain whether or not he is the only one who notices his distress. Perhaps, he is. 

It doesn’t matter though. In fact, if he is the only one who has taken note of it then it is all the more important that he do something before Sky’s inevitable collapse.

But life never makes things simple. And in the end, he’s too late.

It has happened too many times now — a portal that separates the heroes into mismatched groups. Four thinks that perhaps, after his near defeat at the combined hands of the champion and the rancher the Shadow is attempting to be more careful. 

More conniving. More vicious.

Attack first and you won’t be defeated. Such is the attitude of wild animals and beasts. More than likely, the Shadow shares it too.

This would explain why in addition to splitting the heroes up, this portal also dumps them right onto a battlefield.

Or at least, it does for Sky, Legend, and himself. Four can’t be sure what the others are facing. But he can only pray it isn’t a sand-drenched dungeon packed with redeads and stalfos.

The unearthly screeches of the emaciated corpses fill his ears as he fights, teeth gritted, heart pounding. It’s all the three heroes can do to stay out of reach of their paralyzing cries.

Back up to escape one beast and you nearly collide with the mad swing of a stalfos’ claymore. 

Four winces as the very tip of a blade slices across his left arm and leaves an angry gash in its wake.

That’s going to need a bit of potion to remedy.

Beside him, Legend growls what sounds like a curse as he plunges his hand into his pouch and retrieves a fire rod. He brings it in a sweeping horizontal arc. In a blaze of blistering heat, a group of the monsters fall.

“Well done,” Four says with a breathless smirk. He plunges his sword into the gaping chest cavity of one of the stalfos still struggling for survival on the darkened floorboards. With a raspy exhale, it dissolves into ash. “I think you just turned the battle in our favor.”

“I’d better have,” Legend huffs. “The sooner we get rid of these things, the sooner we can get out of here.” He screws up his face in a grimace. More monsters crumple beneath his skilled hands. “It smells like death.”

It does, indeed, Four thinks as, finally, the last of the monsters fall. The stench of it hangs heavy, permeating the thick darkness that surrounds them, wafting from the thin threads of light carrying from faltering torches. 

But now that the battle is over they can focus on escape. Hopefully, to a place where it proves easier to breathe.

He sheathes his sword, glances around. The gash on his arm throbs and the various bruises and smaller cuts he earned join in its stomach-churning beat. Still, it could have gone far worse. 

“We all okay?” Legend asks, bangs falling into his face as he replaces his fire rod. 

“Yes,” Four says. “How about you…Sky?”

His voice pitches an octave higher as he catches sight of the Skyloftian, turning the question almost into an exclamation. 

The knight lies crumpled where he had stood mere moments before. The Master Sword lies fallen beside him, his cape flows over him like a blanket of snow. His breath comes in shuddering gasps that grate upon Four’s ears as he races to his side. 

“Sky!” 

He shakes him, slightly, and hazy blue orbs flutter open. Sky groans. 

“What happened?” Legend drops down beside him, panic in his voice and a half-empty potion bottle in his hand. “Did a monster get him?”

Four shakes his head. “I don’t think so.” A quick inspection provides no sign of blood or other injury. But Sky’s face is ashen and he shudders as though in the throes of fever. “Sky, are you hurt?”

“N-not hurt.” Sky curls his fingers into a fist, as though attempting to gather strength. “J-just…just…” He swallows, tries to drag himself up, and nearly collapses again. It’s only Four and Legend’s quick movement that keeps him upright. “‘M fine.”

“Like hell you are!” Legend’s eyes are blazing with emotion now. “Sky, what happened?”

Sky shudders again. He glances down at the trembling hands he has folded into one, white-knuckled fist. There is a certain helplessness in the look.

“I dunno,” he croaks. “Was fighting and the room start-started swirling.” He curls in on himself further, and Four wonders if the next shaky exhale brings tears with it. His voice is very small. “I just-just fell.”

“And you didn’t have the strength to get back up,” Four says, solemnly. An idea is already forming in his head, a confirmation of what he has witnessed these past few hellish weeks. 

I should’ve acted sooner.

But there had been fights both in and out of the group, and injuries and secrets unveiled. There had been discussions long overdue, restorations to be made in the face of pain and sorrow. And he, he had been in the midst of it all. 

Between explaining the Four Sword and its powers and making up with Wild, he just hadn’t found the time…

“You haven’t been sleeping, Sky…have you?”

Now, Sky raises his head, glazed eyes focusing unsteadily on Four. Slowly, he shakes his head.

Legend blows out a sigh. He sits down beside Four and brings a dusty hand over his sweaty brow. 

“Sleep deprivation? Yeah, that’ll do it. How long haven’t you been sleeping?” 

Sky swallows. A beat passes, then another. The oppressive feel of death begins to crowd in on Four again. He struggles to breathe beneath it.

Then, “Since Twilight,” Sky whispers, and Four’s heart plummets to the depths of his stomach.

Legend’s hand falls to his lap with more viciousness than defeat. His face screws up in an expression that toes the line between sorrowful and intensely irritated. “I knew something was up! I knew it! I should’ve — ”

“Couldn’t have done anything,” Sky croaks, leaning further into Four’s touch. A small smile quirks his lips. “Was me that should-should’ve d-done something in the…in the first place.”

Legend’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”

Sky looks back down at his hands.

Another theory is beginning to form in Four’s mind now, joining with the previous one, enlarging it, and embellishing it until things start to make sense. A theory born out of something Sky has said before, a snippet he had overheard and tossed aside in favor of giving his full attention to fighting the Yiga that had taken Wild captive.

“I’m sorry, champion,” the Skyloftian had said as he had helped Warriors tend to the boy’s wounds. “I was late…again. I’m sorry.”

“You blame yourself.” Four measures the words carefully, speaking each one with intricate precision. Lest he step in the wrong place and cause them all to plummet. “You blame yourself for what happened to Twilight.”

Sky lifts his bloodshot eyes. A tear wells in one of them then spills over to slither gracefully down his cheek. 

“Why would you blame yourself?” Legend asks, even as comprehension burns in his violet irises. “It’s not your fault the rancher got hit. You weren’t even near him when it happened!”

“I was near enough.” Sky’s voice is quieter than ever now, more like a whisper than anything else. “I know the skyward strike. I could’ve hit that…that thing if I’d been…b-been faster.” His breath hitches. But to Four it sounds defeated more than panicked. “I was late and he paid for it. I’m a-always…”

He curls in on himself, weighed down by exhaustion, shuddering with pain and sorrow. Legend looks at Four and Four looks at Legend. Then, slowly, together they reach out and draw Sky into their arms.

It’s strange. Four hadn’t taken Legend for someone willing to show physical affection freely. But he embraces the Skyloftian as though it is no price to pay. As though he has done so before.

Long nights. A shuddering sob. Soft feet dressed in boots with wings adorning their sides. Whispers in the dark that exhaustion muddles before Four can make them out. Amethyst eyes staring from over a hazy cloud of silken white. Sliding shut as a larger form huddles deeper into an embrace.

Sky shivers again and Legend holds him tighter.

“It’s not your fault,” Four murmurs, pouring every ounce of confidence he possesses into those words and praying that it is enough. “It’s not your fault, Sky. You did everything you could do for him. There’s nothing else you could have done.”

Sky doesn’t reply. 

They hold him, whispering assurances, as his tears wet their tunics and his fatigued body quakes beneath the burden he forces it to carry. They hold him until, at last, in the murky darkness, surrounded by carcasses of monsters and piles of resting sand, he drifts off.

In the arms of his brothers.

[midnightsunnyday]

And One Day He'll Be Known As... ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

➠ word count: 1564 ➠ characters: Lucifer/Reader, Lucifer & Reader ➠ cw: none, yet read at your own discretion. ➠ a/n: will there ever be a day I don't write a story about this man? No, not really. Also, not really sure what this is, but I wrote it during lunch break on my phone at work after reading through a "particular book." Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Before the day could even be called day, a light was born in a formless, empty world.

The light had no name, no shape, but it was conscious and very, very hot. In that moment, a great fear overtook it, for the light did not know these feelings it possessed, nor why it was brought forth. It then cried out into the void and from its cries, came many other lights and shapes that spiraled and crashed and split apart. It was then a voice rang out:

“Do not fear, for I am your Father, and all things that come from me are good, and from you, good things have formed."

The light then stilled, knowing that he was not alone here, and saw that these “good things” that formed were called stars and planets. And while the light was still scared, it knew that it was “good” and continued to help make good things.  

For many, many, many days, the light sat and watched as the Father worked through all his creation. It saw the void split in two, and learned that the brightness would be called “day” and the darkness “night.” Its home was now above the waters, which sat atop creation, and below it, the land, the sea, and its creatures. The Father would call this little blue ball “Earth,” and was very pleased with it. And while the light did not understand, it found it…so.

Soon after, the light was given a “brother,” and that brother would help lead the Father’s children beyond the firmament. By then, the light was now “he” and given a form that pleased him, with many wings and eyes as red as fire. He even had a name, “light-bearer" and like his sibling, a purpose: to watch over creation as its guides and judges.

One day, the light-bearer stood from above, looking down upon the Earth. Despite the passage of time, there were still many things he did not understand. If all the Father’s things were “good,” then why were some things “not good?” Why did beasts of land eat the smaller beasts? Why did the moths mistake the flame for light? Why did the birds fly themselves to death? And why did humans, who’d been given eternal life, forsake it to wander the wilderness? And these strange beings with horns and wings that stalked the night and preyed upon the humans. Are they a part of the plan? Because of these questions, the light-bearer couldn’t help but ask:

“Why is it all so…flawed?”

From above, his brother--now Michael--heard him and rang out.

“What do you mean, brother?”

“To be given life is a blessing," the light-bearer said. "Yet they do nothing but die and kill things, yet Father still finds them worthy of his creation. Why?”

It was not like one of the Father’s angels to question His creation, yet the light-bearer was not like other angels. He possessed a will far greater than most, and a mouth just as harsh. He was also very beautiful, yet such things did not concern him.

Michael laughed, admiring the way his brother bathed in the light. “An ant learns to find a path over the water when another drowns to cross it. Those things that are flawed give others the knowledge to do better.”

Lucifer pondered his own creation. He himself was created, not born. “So does that mean we have no flaws?”

“The Father did not intend for us to be flawed."

"Yet how do we have the knowledge to do better if we do not learn from our mistakes?"

"We were born righteous,” Michael answered. “And those things born righteous cannot make mistakes, as we already know our path and roles within it.”

“I see.” Lucifer gazed down at the vivid blue. Despite its size, it’d all seemed so boundless, stretching on forever. These creatures, not tied by what is good or not, had been given a choice. To choose one’s path and live with the mistakes within it. Such beings would be flawed, yes, but beyond that…

“I suppose I can see the beauty in it.”

And within him grew a feeling he could not yet explain.    

Of course, he did not know it then. But one day the light-bearer would come to know humanity very well. By then, he’d be known by a different name. One that the entire world would know. Not for all the good and light it helped create, but for all the evils that plagued it. A name known only as--

“—Oh, Luuucy!”

Lucifer knew of only one person who’d be polite enough to knock in this house and foolhardy to use such an embarrassing nickname. Admittedly, he found it refreshing.

“I know you can heeeere me!” You sung beyond the door.

Though if not a bit exasperating.

It was only natural that you came to him, as you did with all his brothers. You were kind, to the point of absurdity, yet it was a part of you he found charming. You entered—without answer, he’d add—holding a cup of his favorite tea, a clear means to soften the inevitable interrogation as to why, for the past several days, he hadn’t left his office. His brothers, having known the consequences of doing so, allowed him his peace. Yet you on the other hand, knew nothing of minding one’s own.

"We miss you at the table," your voice was low, biting your cheek as if to consider your next words. “How have you—"

"—I'm fine," Lucifer said, still pretending to scan through his paperwork. His response was simple. Pointed. And by your startled reaction, that should’ve been the end of it.

It wasn’t.

"I figured as much,” you said as you trotted carefully towards his desk. “Mammon said this was "normal" for you." You’d sat the cup beside him. The smell hit him with a bitter, floral odor, brewed extra strong to his liking. Your eyes lightened as you waited to see if he reached for it. He hadn’t. You inched it closer, smiling.

Lucifer removed his glasses, messaging his forehead. “Is there something that you need.”

You hummed as you tilted your head. “Not particularly.”

“So in other words, you’ve come to annoy me.” He sighed. “Wonderful.”

“Don’t think of it as an annoyance.” You plopped down into one of the chairs he kept in front of his desk. “More like helpful company.”

He hardened his gaze, yet your eyes refused to falter. Neither of you spoke, locked in a vicious game of eye-to-eye combat.

“You’re good at this,” you said. “What are you, the eye staring master?”

Lucifer tightened his lips. “I’m not playing a game.”

“That’s not what your face says.”

The grin you held continued to grow, until breaking into a fit of giggles. Without realizing, Lucifer snorted. It was small and he corrected himself immediately after, but it was too late. You’d taken his reaction as an admission of defeat, nodding your head in smug satisfaction for having managed to make the great Lucifer smile for once in his life.

“You’re truly a nuisance,” he said. He could feel his face heating. “A thorn in my side.”

“But I made you laugh, so I can’t be that bad, right?”

They were correct. But he’d never admit it. Not then, at least.

“But seriously, I don’t like seeing you cooped up doing nothing but work without break,” you said. “Maybe you’re used to it, but it’s not healthy. Even for a demon and you know…” You plucked at the skin of your fingers, a nervous tick not helped by your current predicament. “If something is wrong, you shouldn't hold it in. It's better to speak to people you love and trust."

"Oh?" He leaned forward, smiling. "And who might those people be? The ones that I love and trust?"

"Your family. Maybe Lord Diavolo," there was a brief pause, your fingers twiddling themselves together as if trying to solve a puzzle. "Or maybe you'd like...to talk to me?"

"That so? Tell me, which one do you think you’d fall into?”

“Oh.” You sat there, silent, your eyes pleading with the floor to swallow you whole. “Well you know I…it’s uh, you see—“

“—You’re right,” he spoke gently, reaching for his tea. “It would be nice to speak with someone I love and trust. Please, stay. And if you’re still interested in being helpful…” he tossed a stack of folders in front of you.

“Boo, paperwork?”

“Boo, paperwork.” He sipped his tea. Delicious, and admittedly, needed.

You pouted, yet accepted the stack nonetheless. In the silence he could feel your joy, the light dancing from your aura. It shined, almost as bright as they say his own. It’s also why, unlike anyone else that he couldn’t help but…

Well, such words were for another time, but for now…

“Thank you, for helping me,” he said.

A squeal, muffled by a cough. You were never good at hiding your emotions. “I mean, it’s no problem, really! Honestly, what would any of you do without me?”

“What would we indeed?”

How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! Or however said verse went. Yet clearly he wasn’t so low if he was still capable of a love such as this.

[insxghtt]

soulmates — kappa x reader

(sorry if this is a mess, i wrote it last night under the influence of a high dose of quetiapine. my insomnia fellas will understand.)

i see a lot of people talking about kappa as this bad boy figure, kinda similar to euronymous but, in my mind, kappa is waaayyy more charming. i mean, he has to be! after all, he is a cult leader and cult leaders rarely show their followers explicit violence.

i think what we saw in black mirror was the dark side of kappa, one that he only shows to his most faithful followers. the other side we didn't get to see is the kind kappa, the personality he has on most of the time. this manipulative, charismatic, charming kappa is the one who would convince you to do the most insane things for him.

first one, joining a cult. but, of course, you didn't call it a cult. no, you called it a family.

kappa was very good at reading people and as soon as he laid eyes on you, he knew you were an easy target. you were so fragile, so he did what no one else ever thought about doing. he took care of you. he showed you love.

it was hard to see kappa as this evil cult leader because he was the kindest soul you had ever met. he was different from all of the other men you had in your life. he treated you with respect.

kappa genuinely loved you. it wasn't healthy, but he genuinely loved you. gosh, he was obsessed with you. you were his godess. he knew about every detail about your life, which is why it was so easy for him to manipulate you into staying. that's why you never even realized that you were trapped.

but again, maybe kappa wasn't the only one with a dark side. you had it in you and he could see it too, which is why he chose you in the first place. the two of you were a mix made in hell.

he was possessive over you, but you were just the same way. although kappa wasn't monogamic, he was faithful to you because he could never ever ever be so obsessed with anyone else.

you two had this open, confused, agitated relationship, but there was one rule you two followed whithout question, and that rule was: other people were only allowed if the two of you consent to it.

other people could only have you, touch you, want you when he was right there watching, and vice versa.

the few times kappa lost his temper in front of the other followers, it was because of you. well, not you, but other man trying to get to you without your (and his) consent. kappa would suddenly become a beast, filled with rage.

he had the other guy pinned against the wall with a knife against his throat. the man was clearly intoxicated, which was the reason why he dared to even approach you in the first place. everyone knew you belonged to kappa. no one would dare to mess with you.

the guy was having a hard time breathing, too scared to even blink. kappa was staring into his soul like a mad man. everyone else in the room, who were partying just a few minutes ago, was now frozen in silence.

you were watching as you thought that maybe you should intervene and try to calm him down, but you didn't really want to. kappa looked so pretty when he was mad. his rough hands were holding the guy by his shirt, the veins in his arms and neck were more visible, his messy hair was covering part of his face, but you could still see his eyes burning with rage.

you rolled your eyes and touched his shoulder delicately and kappa immediately felt his muscles relax. he let go of the guy and watched as he ran away out of the room.

you were kappa's favorite drug. just one small dose of you was enough to make him forget all of his problems.

he turned to you and you gave him a kiss on the lips. just like that, kappa could hardly remember about what had just happened.

but when you were jealous, things were a little different. from times to times, when someone new joined the family, you would notice a girl staring at kappa in a more seducive, flirty way. kappa was very attractive and charming and everyone in the family looked up to him. some people developed feelings for him in the process and you hated it.

and when bitches try to get your man, that's when you become a beast yourself.

you were not as impulsive as kappa. no, you carefully observed and waited for the right time to get rid of them. you were quiet, calm and precise. not only you would stop them from getting what was yours, you would make sure they were completely removed from your lives.

out of the sudden, one of the guns would magically disappear for a day or two, just to be found later in the bag of clothes of one of the new girls. she swore she hadn't taken it, but you didn't believe her and, if you didn't, kappa didn't believe her either.

so you tried to hide your smile as you watched him send her away. he hated to do that, but one thing that kappa valued the most was honesty and he refused to let someone who had lied about stealing one of his guns be part of the family.

kappa would never know. behind his back, you made sure to keep all the girls away from him. of course you were good to them most of the time. you loved some of those girls like they were your sisters, but the ones who didn't respect the rules were easily discarted.

it wouldn't be right to say that you and kappa were a good match, but you two were definitely soulmates. he was made for you, you were made for him and nothing in the world could ever change that.

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 🎃💦 ∘₊✧ 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝟚𝟚 ✧₊

|| ︶꒦꒷𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥꒷꒦︶ | main masterlist ||

@absurdthirst's Kinktober 2023 Prompts

day 22: True Monsters, Spiritual Possession, Sexual Exhaustion

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞

| PAIRING(s): monster!Joel Miller x soulmate!f!reader | RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 2.2k | CONTENT: it's Joel Miller as a humanoid monster beast creature with a massive cock idk what you want me to say, creative liberties with anatomy and bodily fluids, they're soulmates because I wrote this so of course they are, monster!Joel can talk a little but it wouldn't kill him to watch a few episodes of Reading Rainbow or do some alphabet flash cards tbh, one curious use of an aquifer as a metaphor | SYNOPSIS: You encounter a frightening beast in the forest after getting separated from your group. Instead of killing you, he spares your life - the first of many surprises from this mysterious creature.

The prick of his maw grazed your collarbone, breaths coming so frantic it was hard to keep from ballooning into the death trap of his jaw altogether. Perhaps it would just be easier to give in. Let yourself be ravaged by this man beast and succumb to the darkness it offered. You lie caged in his form, waiting as he evaluated his prey. Looking for the weakest point of flesh to rend with his incisor. Watching with delight at the flickering pulse he was soon to take from you.

But seconds ticked by and turned into minutes, and still nothing. Just the rancid humidity of his breath flowering over your trembling face and body.

“Just do it already,” you whisper, hoarse and resigned and too tired to fight anymore.

A horrid, strained sound crawled from his throat. It dawned on you he was attempting to speak. “Want. Close. To you.”

You blink a few times, frozen in shock. “Y-You want…to be close with me?”

The man beast grunted something like an affirmation, and it was then you noticed the beady insistence of his eyes. There was something almost human there. Almost.

“What do you want from me?” you shudder.

The man beast made an aggravated noise. I just told you what I wanted.

“But w-what does that mean? Close?”

He seemed calmer now, more understanding. As if it was everyday you found yourself conversing with a humanoid creature large and powerful enough to rip you clean in half. “You say. You tell what close. I go with you.”

You shake your head against the rough rubble beneath your head where he has you pinned against the ground. Had he tackled you to keep you from running further? Had he not wanted to catch you to kill you like you’d assumed when you were running as fast as your feet would carry you? Was this all some strange misunderstanding?

“You want me to decide? What close means? How close I want to get?”

Again, that strangled noise of communication, this time an affirmation – or at least you think so. In all honesty, you wanted as much space between you and this hulking man creature as possible. His body was a rippled mass of musculature and strength that spoke to the devastation he could cause if he wanted to. And yet, something in his eyes, in his softened movements as jittery as they were, called to the deepest parts of you to tend to him.

“Can you– I want to get up,” you say with a great deal of mustered courage.

“You run again.” His vocalizations were becoming smoother, more sure. Maybe it had just been a long time since he’d spoken to someone else? You wonder who he’d learned from and where they were now, what had become of prior human companions.

“I won’t,” you promise. “Besides, you’d just run me down again. You’re faster than me.”

This point seems to clear away any misgivings he had about retreating from crowding you against the ground. “Don’t want you to run.” Somehow he sounded sad beneath the gravel of his timbre.

“I ran because you scared me.” You prop yourself up enough to scoot back against the wall of the alcove he’d dragged you into.

His eyes lock onto yours and burn something truthful. “Don’t want to scare.”

It was this tentative olive branch between you that led to the next few days of one another’s company. If your group hadn’t found you yet, there was little hope that they would at all. So, you spent quiet nights together, eating whatever the man beast hunted and brought back for you. The weak fires you were able to light paled in comparison to the warmth of curling against him.

He’d stayed true to his word of not wanting to frighten you. As the weeks went by, you could sense in his movements that he was attempting to display an understanding of your hesitancies to get close to him. You could feel his form practically melt into yours when you finally gave into the magnetic pull each night and meshed your bodies together.

The first time you were intimate was entirely your doing. Watching the pacified creature sleep next to you, moonlight illuminating the breadth of him, you reached a hand to explore. He was so warm and firm and solid. You used the opportunity to unabashedly stare and ogle. So much of him was beastly creature, but so much of him conveyed man. 

You weren’t sure if he’d once been human and had somehow managed to cling onto sparse remnants of it all this time or if this is just how he'd always been. His speech had improved greatly over the past week in particular, but there was still a limit to what could be communicated.

Your hand drifted lower, cheeks tingling with heat as you skimmed between his hindlegs. You’d seen it, of course. He wasn’t clothed, never had been. But he much preferred walking about on all fours than upright most of the time, and you weren’t afforded many direct, uninterrupted views. Thankfully not the case now.

Much like the rest of him, it was impressive and a bit daunting. Thick, veined, and imposing, it rested gently against his thigh. He made a small sound in his sleep when you tried to take it into your hand. You couldn’t wrap around the whole of it, and it sent something hot and electric down your spine, a liquid flame of arousal that had you more awake than you’d been since he first caught you. He stirred at your motions, grunting and trembling breaths as he watched you curiously with half-lidded eyes.

“Feels good,” he slurs through sleep thickened vocal cords. “You make me feel so good.” The way he says it implies he means more than just in this moment – you always make me feel good.

Something otherworldly seems to take hold of you at this admission. Like something had finally shifted and locked into place. It feels right to give him that blanket of repose. It feels right to be here with him now like this, the furnace of his body listing closer to yours as if drawn by some invisible force.

“What if we…..?” You trail off, distracted by that almost human stirring in his eyes as he holds your gaze with an intensity that neither challenges nor frightens you. “What if we wanted to make each other feel good?”

He considers you quietly for a moment and slowly reaches a clawed pad of a hand to your face, advancing with a touch of eagerness when you don’t shy away. “It’s all I want to do.”

You lack the substantial breadth and heat of his indomitable form, but your skin feels alight all the same. You nod, an encouragement for him to proceed. The grit of his touch summons a wave of goosebumps over your body, a low gasp catching in your throat. It’s this sound that plumes into the surrounding air and wrenches it over you both like a weighted shroud. The world feels smaller, nonexistent except for the space you share.

“It’s all I want you to do,” you choke out.

The moonlight flashes against the ivories of his lethal jaw when his lip pulls back in a heated snarl. The tongue that had refined his speech over these past few weeks now wields itself into a binary slip against the column of your neck. There may as well be branding marks left in its wake, and you shiver at the combined sensation of being immersed in flame and frost all at once.

You pull at the wrap enclosure of your attire, mere scraps of what had once clothed you from the elements in what felt like a lifetime ago, and let it fall open to the wayside. An almost pained keening sound of appreciation vibrates through his chest, and his eyes cloud into that void of black, betraying any notion that this was merely man and not entirely beast.

The forked appendage slithers in separate directions, curling to meet in a spiral around your peaked nipple. You grab at his forearms and tug at the tussock of hair that first meets your grasp – anything to keep you from springing heavenward at the staggering and blinding paroxysmal bliss. His mouth drips with a viscous want onto your skin as he flicks and squeezes his tongue across your chest.

“Please,” you exhale. You gently push his head further down, and he growls at your anxious need for him to give you more.

“Pretty,” he grunts. “Pretty for me like this.”

“You’re so beautiful,” you whisper, almost sounding on the verge of weeping at the sentiment and significance of whatever has been growing between you and now blossoms in the fertile soil of an infinite springtime.

You clench around nothing when you see the swell of blood that has fattened his cock while he was exploring you. It would be an unnerving consideration if you weren’t sure this was a predetermination of meeting, two souls binding into one. The silent communication and understanding passing between the two of you makes you wonder if you too will lose your speech over time – the practice of words lost to the redundancy of vocalizing to a being who has come to comprehend every thought and feeling you possess.

But for now you aren’t mute, a cry of pleasure spilling out as he sweeps his tongue inside your drenched hole. The tendrils of muscle dance on the ridged, spongey shape inside you. The spot begins to warm under his motions, a heat siphoning from his tongue as a rock awash in sunlight. A surreptitious and soft febrility that coaxes a release from you without any sort of warning. You erupt a cascade of fluid, an aquifer skillfully unearthed by his articulations.

He slurps and suckles at it with a voracious grizzle that rumbles from the recess of his barrel chest, whining when every last bead of it has been lapped up. He crouches above you, his imposing girth slapping against your mound. The entirety of it seeps a syrupy dribble, the warmed honey sensation dripping between your folds. He positions himself at your core and trembles at the anticipation of finally becoming fused to you.

You reach a hand between your legs and guide his bulky tip to the lip of your entrance.The balmy salve of his secretion draws a sigh from your mouth, and he whimpers as he licks into it. You clutch the span of his neck and shoulders as he eases inside of you.

The besoothing purl was not so great that it eased all the sting and pinch of accommodating him. Your breath catches when he slips far enough to nudge the mouth of your womb. You let out a sharp hiss when he pushes further, filling as much of you as he can. He groans when he reaches the terminal of your core. “Filled with me.” He says it in a heaving breath like he’s staked his claim.

“E-everywhere,” you blubber. “I feel you everywhere.”

“Feel you everywhere,” he echoes in a shared sentiment.

“I need you,” you choke out, wriggling your hips just enough to further the blissfully punishing effort of taking him. You whine at the involuntary spasm of your cunt swallowing and obliging the heft of him.

He groans at your deference, at the gentle surrender of yourself to him. “Mine,” he growls and rocks into you for the first time in earnest. It punches the air from your lungs, and you hold onto him tighter.

“I’m yours, I’m yours,” you repeat as he ruts into you. His cadence stutters and becomes haphazard in its drive to mark you as his his his. You can feel each pulse of blood through his veiny cock as it rubs the velvet confines of your core. Your skin glistens with the strain of seating the bulk of it. Every curve and dip and slope of him dragged against your walls. Each drive pushed you closer and closer to another freefall. With one harsh drive of his cockhead against your cervix, your eyes flash wide open in a jolt.

The choking clench of your climax suspends his thrusts, walls locking down and ensnaring his length where it cleaves you in two. A euphoric sob escapes you as tears cloud your vision and you ride out your high. His own release comes quickly after yours with a cacophonous baying wail tearing through the still night.

The flood of him inside you curls and crests until it is met with no other place to go but out of your sticky, drooling hole. It rushes in a stream onto the ground, puddling around you with the missed droplets of your earlier outpouring. He cages you under his body like a precious gift to hide from the world and snivels in your ear.

You wrap an arm around him where you can and gently stroke the coarse scruff of his nape. “Ssshhh, I’m right here,” you soothe. You can sense his desperation, the need to maintain the intimacy of the moment. “We’ll stay just like this for a while, okay?”

He sighs and curls you into him, for comfort or safekeeping or maybe both. “Stay together. Mine.”

“Yes. I’m yours.”

He licks mindlessly at your neck to lull himself, and his chest slowly falls into a peaceful rhythm. You drift off long before he fully softens inside you.

This is my first True Monster smut fic imo, and I just have to say I think I get it guys lmao. I get to make him have magical dick juice? I'M IN. ~*~~*~WORLD BUILDING IS SO ENRICHING AND REWARDING FOR THE CREATIVE MIND~*~~*~*.

For other monster fucking fics, please check out @wannab-urs awesome compilation here. I also wanna specifically rec Oh, Honey by @lincolndjarin bc it is delicious.

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

[yaut-jaknowit]

Returned At Last Part 2

Pairing: Wolf x Reader

Word Count: 4647

Summary: Wolf comes for you. Nothing can step in the way of that beast when he's enraged. Someone took his ooman. He's getting them back, no matter the pauking cost. Not one can or will stop him. Blood will cover him.

Author Note: Oh yes, I wrote even more this. I don't know what possessed me to do this but oh well. Here we are, going further down the whole, no point of return.

I TOTALLY DIDNT FORGET TO TAG YOU, @kissmyaft

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 1

Taste of metal hit your tongue. A raging headache is what you’re forced to awaken with. The light above buzzed with a low frequency, further growing the pain inside of your head. A groan sounded in the extremely limited space given to you, echoing back at your naked, bruised, malnourished body. Your form shivered at a cold drift blowing over you. Goosebumps growing moments afterwards. You tried to pull all of your limps closer, in an attempt to hold in any heat. It did nothing to help this situation.

Everything ached. It’s been like this for what felt like days. The dirty, tiny, dingy cell they threw in after every time they demanded information from you didn’t have a window. The artificial light above was never turned off. Always on. Always singing its horrible pitch. It was either that or listen to your own heartbeat thunder in your ears.

Inside of your mind, you cursed to every and any god that would listen. Whoever let this happen, you hoped they had their good laugh at your misery.

Time was hard to tell in here. Your sleep schedule had been thrown off completely. Sometimes when they don’t get what they want, they beat you to an inch of your life. After resisting, you’ve experienced that four times. Bones broken, organs bleeding, vision blurry. The whole nine yards. Most of the time, they use a knife or gun to threaten you.

A good quarter of their questions you only the answer to. You’ve been to Yautja Prime, kept safe by Wolf as he strutted around his home world with you at his side. You’ve also been to a mothership as well. Wolf is the best out there, many call for his attention and aid. They question your relationship with the alien. They never once say his name, confirming they don’t know it. It’s only ‘alien’, ‘monster’, or -your least favorite – ‘owner’. They act like he owns you. You didn’t know if that hurt you or mad your blood boil.

Other questions, you didn’t dare even make a peep about. It was along the lines of relationship with Wolf. But, it was about your sex life with him. When you ducked your head with a blush covering your cheeks, that probably confirmed their suspicion. Wolf fucks you. Those in the room had made their disgust and horror known to you. As much as you should’ve, you didn’t feel a drop of shame. Wolf is the best partner you’ve ever had, in bed and on the streets.

More inquires were talking about the inner life of the Yautja. They asked all the wrong questions to you, a mere humans that was lucky to walk among them. How were you supposed to know about their military? The Yautja probably didn’t even have one. You had no clue about the numbers. They have a planet, what does that tell you? Well, you didn’t say that. You kept your trap close, thinking constantly about Wolf. You wouldn’t give up on him. You wouldn’t spill his secretes to save your own skin.

Guess what, he would do the same for you. To be honest, he would have the people torturing him dead within moments. If one lifts a weapon to him, it’s game over.

Fuck, you missed him so much. A large part of you hoped he was searching for you. Was he looking high and low for you? Was he going without sleep just to find you? Was he slaving away his body to capture any data about you? You could only hope.

Dread creeped like a silent killer within your heart. Whispers crawled to your ears, speaking in harsh, horrible voices. One spoke, telling you he wasn’t. That he was happy to be rid of you. You are dead weight to him, dragging him down. You’re nothing compared to him. You offer nothing to him. He’s probably happy to have you gone.

A whine scratched at your dry throat. You tried to swallow any of saliva in your mouth, all that was there was cotton. At the same time, your empty stomach rumbled its call, forcing you to curl in on yourself. Your arms wrapped around your middle.

Over the time you’ve been locked in here, the soldiers have only given you scrapes of bread. Every few feedings, as rare as though are already, they gave you enough water to just fill your mouth. It was enough to clear a fraction of the cotton in your mouth. It never satisfied you. It left you wanting more, hungry and thirsty for more. You knew it was part of their plan to get you to crack, spill the secrets they wanted to know.

With a hoarse groan, you rolled over to your other side. An attempt to ease the pain growing on that side of your body. The concrete was cold and unforgiving. You bit at your bottom lip to prevent any noises. Their camera watched your every move, recording it. The person who leads this operation was probably hoping you whisper a confession. You kept yourself silent in the artificial light.

The fight had long left you, slaughtered out of your body in harsh hits and threatening cuts. All you could muster was to lie on the floor, by your lonesome, with no hope of rescue. Wolf… His name hurt your throat, playing a broken record player. You wanted him here with you.

Hands harshly pulled you to your knees, yet you had to full comprehend what was occurring. A film blurred your vision, unable to focus on whoever was touching you. You hissed when the limbs pulled at your aching injuries.

Pain exploded across your face. It took you a long moment to realize what even happened. Fresh blood dripped down your chin, splattering against the unforgiving ground. “Shut the fuck up, twat,” a voice spat harshly at you. He, a soldier, had hit you on the head. Why does it have to be your head?

He jabbed the barrel of a gun into your bruised side. This time, you bit down on your tongue, eyes squeezed shut. That soldier wasn’t going to get a sound out of you. That you’ve learned your lesson. He hauled you to your feet and began to drag you half-haphazardly out of the cell. You let him, head hung low and shoulders sagging.

Unshed tears began to grow as much as you tried to fight it. You couldn’t stop them from dribbling down your dirty cheeks. Yet, your sobs were stopped before they sounded in the short hallway.

At the end, was an elevator that would take you two floors up. Then, the soldier with his gun in your side would continue to drag four doors down on the left. The door would open and you would be shoved inside. You didn’t have time to look at the surrounding four walls. Nothing changed, it was always the same, dingy walls.

The light had a horrible flicker that would drive you insane the longer they kept you in here. The concrete ground still dug into your naked flesh as you were forced inside. With a grunt, you rolled onto your back, eyes still closed. It was the same thing over and over and ov-

Breathing. Ragged breathing – it sound like they were trying to be quiet. Immediately, you shot up into a sitting position, head swirling to the direction. The room wasn’t large yet the light wasn’t bright enough to fully expose whoever crept in the corner. Whatever. Your slightly blurry vision didn’t help you either. All you could make out a dark, blurry figure crouched, hiding in the corner. It was something big though. Even if they tucked themselves away, it took up a large portion of the area.

For once, you didn’t make a sound. All you did was kept both eyes on it, observing it, listening to it. The thing didn’t move from its simple spot. You have expected it to lung out when the light turned off longer than it usually did. When the light flicker back to life, it still was there with it’s broken breathing. It was injured, that much you could tell from just the sounds it made.

What caught your attention was a neon green substance leaking from various wounds along its body. You quietly gasp before scrambling to crawl away. Right off the bat, you knew this a Yautja from that alone. Second, this wasn’t your Yautja. Wolf wasn’t thickly corded as this one. The color was completely off.

Its eyes were locked onto your form as you backed yourself into a corner. Stupid thing to do but what else could you do? If it attacked you… you would be completely defenseless. What a way to die.

That got you thinking though. If it killed you, this misery would end. No more shocks, cuts, or being naked in this frigid place. You would be free.

Wolf would never see you alive again though. You curled up into a ball, arms wrapped around your legs and face buried into your knees. More unshed tears prickled the corner of your eyes but you didn’t let them fall. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know what they wanted from you in this situation.

The fact they have a Yautja locked up here though. Is that how they found Wolf’s ship? Whoever these people are, they must’ve had access to a Yautja’s technology to be able to know where the ship was. They had to gotten it from this one locked up with you.

Your eyes suddenly narrowed on the alien. It was his fault you were here, stuck so far underneath ground, butt naked and hurt. It was his fault you weren’t in bed with Wolf, with his arms wrapped around you. It was his fault you were alone and in pain. It was his fault.

A boiling rage surged to life in your slowly moving veins. But, you didn’t have the strength in your legs to stand up. It was a miracle you were able to scamper away from him. Adrenaline can be a useful friend in situations like this. You also knew there was no way to even hurt the lumbering giant. He’s a Yautja. Injured or not, he’s still deadly. Far more than you are, even in perfect condition. Instead, you kept snug in your own corner, eyes watching him.

Time passed at an unknown pace. You stayed glued far away from him, arms still holding your knees. You were still confused on what these people wanted from you. Why have they changed their tactic? It was working so perfectly… Were they just trying to get you killed without the blood being on their hands? It just didn’t make any sense.

At the exact moment you were being to get annoyed at the lack of action, the door opened. Since the Yautja had sort of forced you in this position, you were behind the newly opened door. The camera already alerted to where you were at all times though.

Whoever was there stepped inside with the two of you and quietly closed the door. You choked on spit, eyes widening and heart skipping a beat. Curses were racing around your head. This was person that always handled your interrogation. He wore his normal gear, the same as always. It had been cleaned of the blood his forced from your body yesterday.

When he pivoted his body to face yours hiding in the corner, you saw through the dim light a smirk. It crinkled the edge of his eye. Dickwad – a name you’ve picked out for him – took a single step towards you. You flinched away from him, somehow curling more in on yourself. It injured your leftover pride the moment afterwards. You didn’t blame yourself for the reaction though.

Something crossed your mind. Dickwad freely walked into the room, back to the Yautja, barely sparring him a glance. Why didn’t he fear the deadly creature on the other side, watching this interaction? None of his weapon would save from the Yautja if he lunged at him. Why wasn’t he scared? Like he should be. Like you are.

It’s like he read your mind. That crinkle never left his right eye. Dickwad nonchalantly glanced behind him, keeping his exposed back to the alien. “Oh, don’t worry about that thing. It can’t hurt you. Poor thing is a little… tied up.” Though you’ve never met this alien before or yet to learn his name, you glared at the dickwad for a just second.

“But don’t worry, I have a fun little button that can release it. Don’t forget that if you misbehave. Now… why don’t we start off from yesterday?”

A pool of blood surrounded you, dark red. Pains stabbed your nerves, never ending. Nausea washed over you, mouth watering with thick saliva. When bile rose in the back of your throat, it burned before you were barely able to swallow it. All it was just stomach acid and more blood. You laid on the cold, frozen concrete, tears and sobs long dried up. Both of your arms were wrapped around your fragile, now more injured body. You didn’t know how much longer you could survive in this pit of hell.

Chains rustling had your head snapping painfully in the direction. It was the Yautja. The chains that encased his body reflected off the light as he moved his position. Yet, he didn’t settle. He kept shifting, rattling the metal against each other. What was his deal?

The sounds frustrated Dickwad, who was using a rag to clean off his knife’s blade. He spun his head to glare at him. “Stop moving, you lumbering ogre. I can show you again why that’s a bad thing,” Dickwad spat and pointed the newly cleaned weapon at the Yautja. Dumb ass, pointing a weapon at him. It’s an open invitation to get yourself killed.

“Why don’t you taunt him when he’s not chained up?” you snarked at him from your spot on the ground. He’s already done his worse to you. Why not add onto it? Why not hurt you some more? Maybe it’ll be enough to finally kill you. The least he could do for you.

Dickwad whipped his head towards you then smirked down at you. “One thing that separates the rookies from the experts. I have that thing chained because I know how deadly it can be.” Then, he lifted a hand to stroke at his limited beard. “Maybe you should learn your lesson, rookie.” You just stared up at him, too tired to think on what he’s trying to get you to understand.

This, he noticed and huffed with a roll of his eyes. “Fine, since you’re such an imbecile.” A device was pulled from a pocket and held in front of you. “I press button. Chains go bye-bye. Alien kills you. There, understood?” Death. Finally. A calling you’ve been making since the third day locked away in your cell. The damn man thought that was something you didn’t want. Who is the imbecile now?

Your eyes rolled widely. He growled before calming himself. “It won’t matter. You are no longer of use. You haven’t gi-“

The only entryway was blown off of its hinges, slamming into the wall on the other side. Your whole body jerked, only a couple feet from the door. A harsh breeze of air slapped you in the face. The person before you yelped and skidded forward, barely a hair’s width from it. He twisted around, both hands filled with a taser and knife.

From your spot, you glanced at the discarded door close by. It hadn’t been blasted off of by explosives. No. The middle was bent with a print of a foot. Someone had kicked it of its hinges. You felt your heart drop. What in the hell could’ve done that?

That question was swiftly answered. A thundering form swept into the room. A deadly hand coming out and wrapped around Dickwad’s throat. Claws didn’t hesitate to pierce his precious, soft skin. Through the limited light, you saw small rivers of blood run down his skin.

Then, it finally struck you. That arm, the claws, the stance, the armor. You recognize who this was. Even with a dried throat, you cried out in relief, a hand reaching out towards your boyfriend.

He was your angel, knight in shining armor. He came for you. He’s come to save you from this place. He’s taking you away, back into his arms.

Wolf’s eyes snapped to your form on the ground, red staining your plush skin. The grip on the ooman’s throat tightened, on the verge of snapping it within his grasp. The least he deserved from the horrid smell coming from him. His mind already connected the dots of all the clues given to him. This creature injured you, hurt you. You were wounded because of this pyode-amedha. It was going to pay for its heavy, detrimental mistake.

At the same time, you were hurt. You were bleeding, heavy by the looks of it. You didn’t have time for him to enact the revenge he desperately wanted to. As much as it pained himself to do this, Wolf crushed the ooman’s throat, effectively ending its life. It deserved far more than that but you were his priority from the beginning.

The now lifeless body of Dickwad was dropped to the ground you laid upon. With one long stride, Wolf knelt next to you, hands tentatively touching your dirty, bruised skin. A burning rage boiled in his veins at the sight of you. It ached his old heart at the scene before him. The way you looked up at him, unshed tears threatening to fall. The swirling of emotions that filled the pools of your eyes.

Relief flooded yours whole form as he accessed the situation at hand. He was here. You lifted a shaky hand and touched the cheek of his cold, metal biomask. Wolf paused what he was doing. He had to get you out of here, now. If you were to survive without lasting injuries.

With gentleness you didn’t know he possessed, Wolf scooped his arms underneath you and pulled you flush with his chest. In the Yautja’s mind, he believed this is where you needed to be at all times now. You will never leave his sight again. Never again. You will be at his side, glued to him if he has to. He can get a leash, attach it to his belt. You are his.

Pain flared to flames at the movement. You groaned, hands grasped blinding at his chest, feeling the bitter cold of his armor. “You cold,” you whined to him. The cold helped you stay awake though, shocking you further awake.

If the situation wasn’t so dire, Wolf might have brought himself to laugh. Instead, his heart squeezed tightly in his chest at your words. He needed to get you out here now.

His sturdy legs lifted the two of you without faltering. When he turned to leave this retched place, he forced to stop at the cry that sounded from your sore throat. His head snapped down to ensure it wasn’t him causing any more pain. You were reaching over his shoulder, wiggling within his hold. It took a hunter’s skill not to let you drop or further injure yourself.

He believed this to be a moment of hallucination. The blood that coated his arms, hands, and chest was his excuse. Yet, when Wolf tried to leave again, you tugged at one of his sensitive tresses. Wolf finally listened to you and followed where your hand was pointing.

In the farthest corner, a form lurked. At a quick glance, it was encased with chains, bounding it there. That’s when Wolf noticed the smell that was hidden underneath the others that drenched it. A Yautja. There was another Yautja. Wolf snarled and tucked you away from the opposing Yautja.

By Paya’s name, what he would’ve done to that ooman for further endangering with one of his kind. He, once more, turned to leave, this time you screamed out with your frustration. It hurt, eyes watering with tears but it got the point across. “Release ‘im,” you demanded of Wolf. You weren’t about to leave the unnamed Yautja to be trapped here. You didn’t know how long he’s been here but no one deserved that.

Wolf was taken back at this. “You want me to free him?” he reiterated, head cocking with a centimeter to the side. With the state of your throat, you didn’t dare speak again. A nod answer his question for him. “Why?” It came out before he could stop it. It was stupid. He didn’t want you further worsen your throat. “Fine.” Is all you got out of him.

If that is what will make you content, so be it. Wolf cautiously entered the unknown Yautja’s space, eyes carefully watching him. He noticed the blood dripping from him as he stopped in front of him. Now, Wolf was able to get a better look at him. This was a young blood, barely blooded by the looks of it. “What’s your name, pup?” he questioned with a grumbly voice, in Yautja and shifted your body to sit upright against him. Your legs swaddle his thin waist the best they could. Your head rested on his shoulder, eyes barely keeping open.

The unnamed Yautja has his eyes locked onto Wolf, body straining against his restraints. “Scar,” is all the elder got from him. Wolf could read the newly named Scar like an open book. He was exhausted, in pain, and struggling to breath. His young body was covered in wounds that would likely scar.

“If you hurt my ooman after I release you, there’s no place in the universe you can hide from me.” Scar’s eyes widened at the threat. If you had more thought process than currently, you would’ve whacked Wolf for that. Scar hadn’t hurt you, he wasn’t a threat.

Scar dipped his head, submissively for a couple of long seconds. “Understood, elder.” Wolf smirked underneath his biomask. The pup has manners, something that seemed to be slipping lately.

With that settled, Wolf used his whip to break the chains that held up Scar. The poor Yautja dropped like dead weight to the ground. He grunted at the sudden jarring of his injuries before shuffling to his hands and knees. “Thank you, elder.”

When Wolf took a breath in to hum at him, you whined within his hold. Immediately, Wolf’s entire focus returned to you. Then, he marched out of the room, leaving behind the young blood. Wolf gave him the opportunity to escape, it was on him to do so. Behind him, Scar scrambled after them. Smart. But the youngster stayed a few paces from him. Once more, smart.

At that point, the relief of freedom on your tongue and the exhaustion weighing you down, you promptly passed out. A sorrowful smile stuck to your face as you slept against the Yautja.

Your body suddenly shifted within his grasp, you almost falling back. This caused him to fret, both arms surrounding your frail body. Wolf maneuvered you into a better position before resuming his rescue, rage fueling him along the way.

Safety. Warm. Tired. Pain. Those were the first things you felt when you were drawn from your heavy sleep. The desperate need to pee forcing you awake. When you went to move, you gasped at the shock of agony that ran up your side. Something blazing touched your shoulder, gentle, it held you there, forcing you still. “Stay. Don’t move, ooman.” In return, you whined as an answer.

The voice released a grunt, hand leaving your body. The spot now feeling much colder than what you’re used to. You hoarsely cried out, hand reaching for them to return. It had brought comfort to you, soothing away those pestering thoughts and fears. They plagued your mind from the moment you woke up. “Still,” the voice grounded out, firmer this time; no hints of harshness though.

“Gotta pee,” you explained, tone begging for you to be let up. With your eyes still closed, the unknown figure huffed a sigh before gingerly scooping your body up. The familiar pelts that you were laid upon left the comfort of your skin. Pelts. Warm body. Strong arms. Grumbly, grumpy sounds. You tiredly smiled as his name entered your mind like molasses. “Wolf.” Your voice whined to him. A hand shakily reaching up to touch him.

He was here. He was holding you. He had saved you. You were safe from harm.

At the sound of his name on your tongue, he tightened his hold just a hair. You’ll never hear or come to know but his heart ached at the sound. The way his body twinged after all that had occurred yesterday… Wolf refused to let himself rest though. You needed to be cared for. The wounds constantly checked for infections. This was the first time you had awoken in the last twenty hours. Any longer, and he would’ve believed he had lost you.

Wolf’s never felt this way. Not once in his hundreds of years alive. To be honest, he felt fear at that and at you being captured. His anger over took his body first. Now though, since the storm had calmed with the two of you far from your home planet, he felt terror in his veins. Your voice on the comm. Channel begging for him, not wanting to die.

Despite the situation he had been in when he first heard your call, he was quick to answer, questioning what was happening. Yet, it was like you couldn’t hear him. It was a one-sided call. To his knowledge there wasn’t a way to block his side of the comm. on the console. Something had blocked him.

You shifted within his hold, whimpering again. He’s already put you in the expansive tub he has, medicine mixed within the water. If he were to do it again, it might overwhelm your body and cause damage. Instead, he carried you to the connected bath room and let you relieve yourself. He saw the way you winced as you did.

Fluids. He hadn’t been able to get you any for the last twenty hours. You needed them now, with food. Your body looked malnourished, ribs showing. All the muscle you had gained from your time with him was almost gone. But that was last thing on his mind. First, your health.

He had tried to transfer you back to the bed. Yet, even with weakened arms, you refused to release your hold on the older Yautja. His body heat swaddling you better than any blanket could. His body a protective shield from the horrors of the world you’ve seen lately. Nothing could take you away from him right now, not even him. “Don’t le-ea-ve me,” your voice cracked. If your eyes could, tears would be dribbling down your face.

Something dangerous almost snapped deep within the Yautja. If you weren’t in the state they had put you in, he would’ve taken his sweet pauking time killing those disgusting pyode-amedha. Each one. Slowly dragging out their death. You were his top priority though; get you to safety.

Over the course of fifteen minutes, Wolf prepared three large cups of fresh, clean water and a plate of soft food. The bruises on your jaw told him to do so. Then, the lumbering giant balanced everything with his grasp towards the bedroom. That place would become your sanctuary for however long it took for you heal. Wolf would be forever there, at your side, every step of the way. You were no longer allowed to leave his sights, Wolf’s orders.

[infinite-hearts-333]

Smiling Critters Cartoon- Ouřa Thorn

I view the cartoon as the like. OG source of all other aus, even though the toys were probably made first, as well as the experiments, BUT I DO WHAT I WANT RWAH. So this is like. OG Thorn.

This is my explanation of where Thorn lives, and how they came into existence within the cartoon universe.

First of all, this story actually starts off with Bubbles. Although she wasn’t known as Bubbles back then- rather by her species, the Giant White-Tipped Wandering Tarantula- or ‘Big Blue’ as called by the rural farmers that would sometimes see her.

Wandering Tarantulas were a massive but mostly passive species of spider- known for patrolling expansive of land for food and water, and their freakishly good mimicry skills. Sometimes, if you were lucky, you’d see them clamber along the sides of wheat field, ever careful to not flatten any off the plants. They are tenders to the forest- a guardian to ward off any thing that threatens the beasts that reside inside.

One concept that I love and have burrowed is that there are ‘Critters’ aka Dogday ect, that are human like- and then ‘Beasts’ that are animals. And on some rare occasions, if a beast earns an emblem, they can become a critter, like Bobby bear hug from @novalizinpeace (who has a new blog now for their au, go check it out!!!!)

Bubbles was a beast- a very smart beast, just like how animals of our world can be very intelligent.

The way Thorn was born, was just like any other critter- by stork. And in this situation, by pure luck, fate and the animal intelligence that Bubbles possessed.

Litter happens. And sometimes, critters loose things. So whilst one fine morning, when Bubbles is wandering through the forest, they step on a paper, that had blown in, smudging a foot print on the bottom half. This note, was actually a letter- a half finished letter for a child that a parent must have lost.

Not that Bubbles knew that.

Unsure what to do with this paper, the tarantula did what most animals do- copy the creatures that normally have it. By watching the Critters, Bubbles witnessed Critters putting paper in a big red box. So they did the same. And, effectively, mailed a baby request, signed with their foot print.

Now I think there would be a little bit of slack in the Storks since in Nova’s au, King Canv(ass) got Crafty, and apparently Crafty and Dogday wrote a drunk letter and accidentally got another kid, so I’m gonna say that the storks are flexible, in case in more rural places were education isn’t the greatest, writing is a little hard.

And in the topic of rural- some farms just. Do not have addresses, and come on, it’s a magical place and babies come by storks- I’m allowed to bend the rules a little. So for rural places, you leave your finger print on the paper, and the storks use magic to track the print to exactly where you are! Hence why normally, the parent that leaves the print stays at home until the baby comes, cause you don’t want to get them like, at work.

And sometimes, since it’s such a tradition, the parents will leave the finger print instead of their name.

And well…… I feel sorry for that poor stork.

It was a first ever- that a Beast had ever snuck into the stork system. And after checking their equipment four times- nope, the letter was 100% from the Giant Tarantula. Also, there was no rules for this. Was the stork meant to leave a baby with this massive spider??? Take it back? Leave it at an orphanage? (Which was probably didn’t even exist if birth control wasn’t a problem if you get what I mean)

The stork contact their boss, and ofc, he/her/they, didn’t believe it at all. So the stork. Sat the baby down, and watch from afar, pray this animal would take the child.

And she did! The little spiky thing smelt weird, but when Bubbles pressed their pedipalps into the little things softer underbelly, it curled around them with the tiniest little purr ever. And well. Bubbles was therefore convinced that this little thing was their spiderling.

Between the half baked (defiantly a draft) writing and the crinkled, weathered paper with the dirty print- Ouřa Thorn turned out with some issues- the most prominent being that one of their horns had snapped. Whether the horn was to weak and broke, or if it never fully developed- no one knows- but it dreadfully impacted Thorns hearing, and therefore, their volume of their voice when they started interacting with other Critters.

Bubbles also being the Best Mum Ever tm, also was proven when it came to Thorns emblem- mainly because she found it. Thorns emblem is of course, the image of the world serpent- or Ouroboros.

Bubbles had found it deep within the forest, in a tiny old ruin- and well, knowing that their spiderling hoarded shinies like no one’s business, they took it back for them.

To Bubbles knowledge, they love it so much they wear it everywhere they go!

[belit0]

imagine leaving lipstick marks on their necks/collar without them knowing 🤭

Okay, after writing and translating this whole work, I realized you asked for "lipstick marks" 🫠🫠🫠

I wrote the whole thing using the concept of hickeys, and I hope you don't mind 😭😭 If I have to re-write it (which I'll do if you ask me to) I'd need to change lots of things, and I felt kinda bad about doing that before showing it to you cause I really liked it!

I just hope this is okay :,(((

TW: none Pairing: Otsutsuki Indra / reader - Uchiha Madara / reader - Uchiha Izuna / reader. NSFW

Indra

DEATH! Too traditional to allow (Y/N) to take the reins. If anyone makes hickeys or marks, it's him.

We're talking about the greatest figure of power and respect in the entire Uchiha clan, the damn creator, of course he has to present a neat and respected image to the outside world, to appear untainted and beyond compare. People must respect and fear him, feel they are dealing with a superior and untouchable being.

Of course, having a hickey on his neck destroys that fantasy, giving him more of a human aspect, a person who genuinely enjoys the mundane pleasures of life, such as sex.

"What do you mean Otsutsuki Indra has sex?!?!?!?!?!?!" Yes, and lots of it. People would be shocked to death knowing the sexual beast sleeping inside this man during the day.

It will be one of his disciples who notices it first, as he receives an instructional beating on how to handle Taijutsu. Completely shocked, he will not dare say anything, choosing to think it must be a bruise, some lucky person who managed to touch him during training.

Eventually, the council elders notice, and someone must raise their voice.

"Indra-Sama.... There's something... there's something on your neck, if I may be so bold as to mention..."

Thoughts race at the speed of light in his mind, remembering the night before and how he got careless enough for (Y/N) to have access to his collar. She'd been bragging about reaching for his smooth skin and marking it, but he never thought she'd succeed.

He made the mistake of being careless yesterday, as she massaged his cock in the bathtub while taking a hot dip. Allowing her complete freedom to handle his cock as she wished, throwing back his head and exposing his neck, (Y/N) opted to carry out her move at the very moment he was finishing, so distracted by the sensation he didn't feel her lips sucking on his neck.

It was his fault for relaxing in her presence, finding a person he shouldn't have to pretend to be able to keep up with.

"Indra-Sama? Are you well?"

The older man's voice brings him back to reality, snapping him out of the stupor of remembering the situation. Now he sits with an erect cock and flushed cheeks, trying to pretend everything is all right.

"Everything is fine, there's no need to worry. We'll finish this meeting earlier than usual, there are pressing matters I need to take care of."

"Do you need medical attention? We could check you and see if that mark is anything serious or..."

"I said everything is fine, didn't I? You'll mind your own affairs, attend to your own duties, and forget about it."

He twirled his Sharingan along with his words, just for effect and depth, inwardly planning how he would repay (Y/N) for having taken such a dare.

Madara

Internally, he enjoys hickeys. He loves to know (Y/N) is as possessive of him as he is of her, where the feeling is mutual and fiery, never dull or monotonous.

However, like his ancestor, he has an image to maintain, and cannot afford to show marks just like that. The high collars on his robe help enough, at least to diffract the more outrageous ones.

Madara is aware of several people noticing this, but no one dares to comment on it.

His relationship with (Y/N) is more than well known by now, and no one visualizes him as a sexually quiet man. What surprises people is that he allows her to mark him as well. Who would think this Uchiha is so egalitarian, holding his partner on the same level of rights he possesses?

The one to comment on this will probably be Izuna, being the only one brave enough to ask such a personal question to his older brother. Of course, everyone knows his Aniki would never hurt him. At most, he'll get angry and drag him to the training ground to give him a good beating, but that's about it.

As they enjoy a nice cup of tea with Hikaku, Izuna takes the liberty of remarking.

"That's quite a noticeable thing you're wearing around your neck, Madara. Rough night?" Hikaku interjects, hiding the smirk in his cup of tea.

"Hm, one could call it that, yes." There's a faint hint of amusement at the corner of his lips, but he remains neutral, inwardly grateful the collar of his dressing gown is covering all the other marks.

"Who knew (Y/N) was so wild? Aniki, it looks like a massive insect bite… I now understand why you asked me to take care of your meetings today."

"Stop whining, Izuna. It doesn't hurt you to interact with the council and let them see you're a responsible adult."

"That, precisely, he is not." The third Uchiha sighs inwardly, bearing weeks of taking care of Izuna's respective duties.

"That, precisely, I am not. Besides, responsible adult?! Says the one who walks around with a hickey the size of my fist around his neck."

"It's not wrong to find fun, semi-permanent ways to show love for your partner." Madara smirks into his hot drink.

"Yeah, sure. Wait here, I'll throw up and be right back. What the fuck happened to my big brother, someone explain!"

Izuna

The womanizer no one would ever expect to see attached enough to wear a mark of possession on his neck. Izuna has been with countless women, but he has never allowed any of them to leave even a hint of contact on his skin.

What is it now, walking around the compound with a mark on his collar? It has a name and a surname, (Y/N), for her friends.

A few paragraphs ago, the Uchiha was mocking his older brother for becoming a love softie, and now look at him, melting to the point where he allows her to leave her declarations of affection written on his flesh.

He's totally proud of the hickey, even forgoing his usual long-collared dressing gown in favor of one that shows off his chest, evidencing the previous night's amorous experience with (Y/N).

Of course, the first to laugh at him will be Madara, returning the words of derision he had previously exclaimed. Hikaku will soon follow suit, being a bit more severe in the matter of teasing him. Izuna will smile and laugh at every attempt they make to annoy him, being genuinely glad to have those particular colors on his skin.

The one who really surprises Izuna with his comment is Kagami, one of his little students. The boy is just learning his first fire jutsu, but nothing stops him from making an innocent comment about the different colored marks on his sensei's neck.

"Izuna Sensei! Are you all right?! What is that?! Did the enemy do that to you?!" The boy exclaims with concern, his eyes wide open and on the verge of tears.

Izuna, being an idiot with poor ideas, decides to play a little joke on him.

"Yes, Kagami… Yes. Today, your Sensei is coming to say goodbye. It was the Senjus, Kagami, they marked me with a deadly poison on my neck, I have little time left but..."

"NO! IZUNA SENSEI! NO!"

"It's okay Kagami, it will be quick and painless, Hikaku will continue training you and everything will be fine..."

At that moment, he decides to pretend he's starting to suffocate, grabbing his neck and acting like air isn't entering his airways. He lies down on the floor to continue his show, closing his eyes and feigning death. He struggles with all his might to keep a smile from escaping his lips, but can't help but laugh when Kagami begins to cry inconsolably.

He throws himself on his Sensei's chest, weeping and resting his head on "the lifeless body". Izuna can't contain his fit of laughter, getting up and grabbing him in a hug, showing him that he wouldn't get rid of him so easily.

When Kagami opens his eyes in disbelief, Izuna realizes, this one just awakened his Sharingan.

"Holy fuck..."

He can already hear the screams his brother will throw his way once he finds out, Kagami being too young to even have a Tomoe.

[ctitan98official]

Anonymous: I read the Donna and Alcina adopts a toddler story I was wondering about how you think the dimitrescu sisters would be as moms

Cute! Here’s what I came up with. I just wrote head canons for the girls adopting Y/N because I love the idea. Let’s get into it!

Bela:

Bela found you on the castle grounds near the front of the main doors.

You smiled and laughed at her while waving your little hands.

Bela fell in love with you immediately.

She felt a strong bond with you, much like her mother did with her when she was newly created.

She convinced Alcina to let her keep you.

When Bela first adopted you, she set up your crib in her room so that she would be nearby in case you needed her. If you ever cried, she would wake up immediately and run over to hold and soothe you.

She was a very hands-on mom. She loved to teach you new things and read to you.

Bela made pretty strict rules, but she didn’t nag you or make you feel bad. She only kept you in line because of how much she loved you.

She would always take time to talk with you if you were upset or needed to vent.

She loved to hold you and rock you… Even when you got older.

Bela had to sometimes limit your time with Cass and Dani because you three would get into a lot of trouble.

Bela took excellent care of you when you were sick and kept you company.

She was a bit possessive of you at first and wanted everyone to know that you were her child.

All in all, Bela is a very responsible parent and raised you with tons of love.

Cassandra:

Cass found you when she was hunting. She heard a baby’s frightened cries and made her way over to investigate.

She saw you cowering in fear as a lycan looked poised to attack you.

Cass saw red and her first thought when she laid eyes on you was “Mine!”.

She immediately dealt with the beast before walking over to you and couching down to your level.

She felt extremely protective of you and your cries had broken her heart.

“Hello.” She started softly. You looked at her curiously, but held out your arms so that she would hold you. Cass smiled and picked you up. You both felt a bond form quickly between the two of you.

You took comfort in Cass’s soft skin and the sound of her beating heart. Cass buried her nose in your hair and breathed in your scent so she could memorize it.

“Would you like to come home with me?” She asks you.

You weren’t old enough to talk yet, but you just loved hearing her voice and giggled as a response.

Cass grinned. “I’m gonna take that as a yes.” She said.

From then on, as far as Cass was concerned, you were her baby.

She was very possessive and wouldn’t let anyone touch you. She came around eventually, but she would always want you by her side.

Cass loved to cuddle with you. She told you stories and you loved to lay your head on her chest and feel the rumble as she talked.

Cass did have firm rules, but she wasn’t super strict. The rules were there to keep you safe, that’s all.

She loved to play with you and the both of you got into a bit of trouble with Alcina from time to time.

Cass was a great mom and you were lucky to have been adopted by her.

Daniela:

Dani found you when she was in the village. You were sitting by yourself and shivering next to a bunch of boxes and trash. You looked completely miserable.

Dani felt her heart break at how little and defenseless you were. She approached you and you looked up at her.

As soon as you and Dani locked eyes, it was over. You belonged to her.

“Hi, baby.” She said gently and cupped your cheek. You smiled and giggled at her.

You reached up and wanted to be held. Dani laughed and picked you up before nuzzling her face in your hair. “Let’s go home, lovey.” She said. You happily buried your face in her neck and marveled at how at how warm she was.

Dani had a bit of a hard time convincing Alcina to let her keep you, but once she saw how the two of you looked at each other… She caved.

Dani was so affectionate with you. She loved to wrap you up in her arms and place kisses all over your face.

She read to you every night before you went to bed and the sound of her voice made you feel so relaxed.

Dani spoiled you and it was often up to Alcina to lay down the law.

Dani loved to play pretend with you as well. You always made her be a princess so you could be a knight and save her… She really loved getting to play a princess. Sometimes, Cass would pretend to be the dragon.

Your mom was so great, but when you had a question about an academic subject, you quickly learned to go to Bela for guidance.

Dani always made time for you to vent or tell her about your problems. She snuggled you close as you told her about what was troubling you. Things didn’t seem so bad when she held you.

You and Dani loved each other so much. You couldn’t have gotten a better mom.

Masterlist