#Mahito monster fucking

[derangederensimp]

Jujutsu Kaisen One Shot

Mahito x Fem Reader

Part 2 to Kinktobers Day 1

CW: Monster Fucking, Is Mahito his own cw. we all know how he can morph himself so expect him changing parts of his body 🤭, unprotected sex, cream pie, breeding kink. Mahito is desperate for your body and so are you for him. Mating press.

-

Mahito let you go which confused you as he said he would rather die than do that but here you were in your apartment. A few weeks had passed since then and the non stop aching between your legs was starting to become unbearable. Your fingers weren't enough to satisfy yourself, often falling asleep from frustration. You were tempted to go back to where he was but what kind of person would you be to go beg this monster to fuck you when you were sent there to kill him.

Another steamy dream filled your sleep, imagining his body hovered over top of yours. His hips slamming into yours, growing himself bigger and bigger inside of you till you couldn’t take any bigger. How tight your cunt was around his cock making him let out a low moan into your ear and his praises. The dream seemed to feel more real than anything, you woke to the sound of your window slamming shut.

“Aw was just getting to the good part huh? You want some more of me? I thought letting you go, you surely would’ve brought someone back to the sewers to exorcize me but here you are moaning out my name in your sleep. You know you should really lock your windows” Mahito grinned at you. You crawled forward towards him at the end of your bed, your brain fighting you but also encouraging you to keep going forward just wanting the ache between your thighs to stop. “I-i” you started.

“Shh, shh I know. You want me to take care of the problem I’ve caused huh? Can’t fix it yourself can you” Mahito teased. He closed the gap between the two of you, lowering his head, and pressing his lips against yours. His tongue parted your lips, slipping inside and getting a taste of you. Softly groaning he planted his palms against your cheeks making the kiss deepen till he noticed you were starting to struggle to breath letting go he allowed you to catch your breath. “Mmm should’ve kept my word on never letting you go. Do you have something growing in there yet?” He rubbed at your stomach. “Don’t think so” you mumbled, drunk on his touch already.

“That’s too bad, I guess I’ll fuck you till something does then. Doesn’t that sound good?” Mahito asked, looking down at you, the same smirk growing across his lips again, seeing your eyes blown with lust. Pushing you back onto your mattress he removed his shirt and threw it to the floor. “How did you find me?” You asked curiously as he hovered over you. “I’ve always known where you were. I was just giving you some space but that’s over now okay? I told you that you were mine didn’t I?” He cooed into your ear softly nipping at your neck.

“Something around those lines” you mumbled between kisses. He rubbed his hands down your body tugging on your clothes desperately as you rushed to remove them wanting to feel more of him. Taking your breasts into his hands he smashed his face between them rubbing them around. Removing his head he placed his fingers at your nipples squeezing them before he lowered his lips onto one of them and sucked. The feeling making you whine out his name. This was so wrong but he made you feel so good.

His other hands fingertips felt like they burned your skin as he rubbed circles into your thighs. His knee rested on your bare cunt softly rubbing it into your clit making you moan out his name desperately. “Must’ve been a good dream. You're soaked y/n.” Mahito teased, rubbing his knee on your cunt spreading your juices around. Your cheeks went pink as it was embarrassing. You could’ve gotten off if you fucked someone else but your body only craved Mahito.

Knew deep down that the only person who would satisfy you was him. “A really good dream” you mumbled. His patch work face now inches away from you, you couldn’t help but stare at his two colored eyes. “Wanna tell me what I was doing in that dream of yours?” He cooed into your ear, his hand rested over your cunt, his thumb slowly rubbing circles into your clit.

A soft moan coming past your lips, his lips connecting to your neck leaving small bruises behind. His movements becoming slow still waiting to hear you spill what your brain was coming up with. A fantasy he knew for sure he’d be able to fulfill. “You were on top of me. Growing inside till I couldn’t take anymore. Mahito-” you began stopping from him adding two fingers inside. Hooking his fingers inside massaging the spot that made you go crazy. His name sounding so good on your lips but it wasn’t as good as hearing you moan it.

His tongue licked up your neck and to your lips kissing you deeply his tongue exploring your mouth his fingers pumped in and out of you. Your cunt clenching around them making him groan through the kiss. Your hips shuddered as he got you closer to cumming, you knew better to not cum till he said you could or else he would go slower the more you would end up begging for it. “Go ahead y/n - cum. Just getting you warmed up” he chuckled into your ear as you squeezed your eyes shut cumming all over his hand.

He picked his head up and looked down at you “There it is, your insatiable face. How many times am I going to have to fuck you till you finally sleep Hmm?”

Pushing your legs to your chest he pulled his pants down freeing his cock, pre cum coming from the tip. He gave himself a few pumps before rubbing the tip to your entrance. You eagerly tried to watch the way just his tip could spread you apart. Biting down on your lip he rested his hand under the chin and pushed it up for you to be looking at him. “Want to see your face” he said before slamming his hips into you. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly, cunt twitching on his cock your body attempting to adjust to his size and he wasn’t even at his full potential.

“M-mahito” his soft touch still on your face, he pulled himself out only to just give you a quick hard thrust making you moan loudly. “Ready for me to move?” He said, staring down at your fucked out face and he hasn’t even started. You nodded your head yes as forming words was the last thing your brain was trying to do.

Setting a pace Mahito leaned down gripping on your legs harder, his breath hot on your neck. His cock hitting your g spot over and over again becoming too sensitive. Repeatedly crying out his name in his ear only made him go faster, growing his cock inch by inch till he filled you to your hilt no longer able to get the base to meet the lips of your cunt. “Just like you wanted?” It felt like he was in your stomach, his hand going between your bodies and pushing down on your lower stomach. A loud moan erupted from your throat, fat tears of pleasure ran down your cheeks.

Mahito grinned, loling his tongue out and licking them up, savoring the way they tasted. Your cunt felt like it was being split in two as he continued fucking into you. Both of your moans and the lewd sound of your bodies coming together filled your apartment. Your brain forgetting where you were, an apartment building that Gojo lived in and he most likely could hear all the noises. Your cheeks burned red at the thought, Gojo was always trying to get with you but you ignored his attempted advances.

Right on que a pounding on your door rang through your ears. Your cunt clenching around Mahito’s cock, your orgasm nearing as he leaned back up his hand going to your clit and feverishly rubbing at it. “Cum for me y/n. Moan my name and I’ll fill you up nice and good” his pace picking up as your thighs began to shake, crying out his name repeatedly, your cunt spasmed around his cock milking him of all he had. The warmth and the pressure of being full made you let out just one more dragged out moan.

Mahito pulled out kissing your forehead and slipping his pants on to grab the door leaving you naked and trying to get the air back into your lungs. His cum seeping out of your cunt and making a mess on your sheets. You didn’t care though, all you wanted was to be filled with his cock again.

Turning your head to the sound of the door opening, Mahito stood partly in the doorway and your eyes locked with Gojo’s. His facial expression made Mahito laugh. “Be respectful of my girl. What do you want?” Mahito asked partly closing the door for Gojo to stop staring. You scrambled to cover yourself in your blankets, your face burning red. “Just what are you?” you heard Gojo’s voice. “Her- what do you humans call it. Boyfriend. Yeah, that’s it, her boyfriend. Now fuck off. She hasn’t finished having fun yet” Mahito said, slamming the door and walking back towards you.

“He’s got a crush on you huh? That’s too bad. You’re my pet aren’t ya y/n? Never gonna leave my side hmm?” Mahito asked, your hands reaching up to him and pulling him back into bed sitting on top of him.

“I’ll take that as all yes’s” he grinned. You took his face into your hands and kissed him softly.

-

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Masterlist

[iyamaggies-blog]

Omg I did it! I wanted to get his bad boy busted out before the next episode came out and I just barely did it! Ok here’s some Mahito smut taking place during that episode right after gojo gets sealed. Written in first person, sorry. Kinda monster fuckery but not as crazy as I’ve seen some of all get. I did a really lazy job proof reading. Hope ya like it!

Playtime!

“If I find him first I’ll kill him, if you find him first we can release Sukuna!” Mahito exclaims “there’s no need to go looking for him gojo is here…”Jugo begins to reason but Mahito is off and running through a the train station with a cheery giggle. A moment later I manage to catch up to him, trailing just behind him he turns to glance at me but I lunge and tackle him to the ground. Laying beneath me while I move to straddle him. He looks up at me with confused amusement. “Oh? Did you wanna play too?” He muses.

“I always wanna play with you Mahito” I reply gently grinding my hips down against his. His face breaks out into a huge grin as he sits up grabbing my waist to hold me in place, speaking face to face with me. “Your so cute when you act desperate but im in the middle of a different game right now and If you want to be in my team-“

“Im not on your team. I want Choso to win.” I reply matter of fact.

He falls silent, his grin replaced with a pout. “That’s disappointing, I thought I was your favorite.” His fingers trace light patterns in my sides as I lean in closer so our lips are nearly touching. “You are my favorite.” I confirm pressing our lips together. Mahito returns my kiss, shoving his tongue past my lips and groaning into my mouth. His tongue pushes past mine aggressively, stretching and slithering its way down my throat. I move to push away from him as my eyes water and I begin to gag but strong textured limbs entrap my body locking me in place. The soft feather like touches I was receiving from his human like fingertips have transformed into a mighty grip from twin tenticals twisted around my torso trailing up my neck. He pulls away to grin up at me, long stretched out tongue still down my throat as his newly transformed limbs tilt my head to meet his gaze. I continue to gag and struggle until he slowly begins to shrink and slide his tongue back into his mouth keeping eye contact and lightly laughing to himself as his tentacle covers my mouth

His laugh is so cute

“So I’m your favorite but you still want Choso to win?” He questions tilting his head to the side. Unable to speak I nod un response. “Seems pretty dangerous for you to crawl in my lap after hindering the game I suggested. Why do you care who wins? Why not just join in the fun?” I try to mutter a response but his tentacles remain locked around my face and my words come out as a strained whimper as I attempt to grind down against his lap again.

Before I can process what’s happening his tentacles unwind from my body, twirling me off his lap and tossing me to the station floor. I try to lift myself from the ground but I feel his weight against my back pushing my chest to the ground and his hands are everywhere.

An authoritative grip on my hips pulling my ass up and against his pelvis,

2

A forceful press of my arms into the ground beside me,

4

An iron grip around my throat,

5

A firm yank of my hair, pressing his face close to my ear.

6

“You don’t care about letting Choso win. You’re just jealous I was playing something other than you.”

He has 6 arms now.

“I don’t have to be jealous.” I rasp out. “I thought I was tour favorite, play with me instead.” I taunt wiggling my body against him. He responds with light laughter

“You are my favorite.” He mirrors our exchange from earlier. “Its so flattering when you act so desperate! I Guess I can make time to play with my favorite toy, I’ll just have to make you come quick so I can go kill yuuji!” The hands on my hips briefly release to push my pants down my thighs to bunch up at my knees and I push back against him again yearning for friction. “I doubt it’ll take long with how needy you’re being.” He mocks quietly in my ear. Hands trail up the back of my thighs and stop at my sopping cunt. He uses his thumbs to pull the lips apart before the one slides thru the exposed folds to feel my wetness. “I love how wet you get for me. Does it excite you to be at my mercy?” His grip on my throat tightens slightly while his thumb continues to stroke between my folds, occasionally brushing against my clit spiraling me into a panting mewling mess. “My pretty pet makes such pretty noises.” He sing songs in my ear before pushing two of his long slender fingers inside of me causing me to cry out. “O-oh fuck Mahito!” The hand around my throat snakes up to grip my jaw, locking me in place against the hand still gripping my hair. His firm wet tounge elongates past his lips wrapping its way around my face and thrusting into my mouth sliding lewdly against my tounge before retreating to repeat the same motion over and over again. Using the firm muscle to sensually fuck my open mouth. My eyes roll back and I’m moaning out incoherent syllables at the combined pleasure Mahito is blessing me with. The slow rough thrust of his fingers is perfectly in time with his tongue. He revels in abusing that special spot inside me while drool drips down my chin and wetness soaks his hand and runs down onto my thighs. I can feel his open mouthed grin against my face, clearly amused by how powerless I am beneath him. I barely notice the hand spreading my lower lips abandon me to start pushing down his own clothing. His tounge retreats and I wine shamelessly as he mutters “It’s so fun when you act so corrupted!” He swiftly removes his fingers from my sopping cunt causing me to gasp out at the sudden loss. “No! what are you-“ I begin but I’m cut off with my own gasp as I am again being swiftly repositioned. Maintaining his incredible dominance of my body he shifts back to sit on the subway floor manhandling me into his lap and impaling me on his thick monstruos cock. The sudden intrusion is unexpected and exhilarating. His hardened girth bullying it’s way past my entrance into my soaked heat. His impressive strength continues to manhandle me into this new position. He pulls my arms behind my back and restrains them there with an unbreakable hold, his other 4 latch on around my waist and hips to batter me over his cock.

“Ah! Mahito!” I cry out.

The deep glide of his ridged misshapen cock sends sparks through my body. Mahitos grasp has complete control of my body using me like a tool for his pleasure sliding up and down from the base of his shaft to the tip and then back. I do my best to kick my pants the rest of the way off my body so I can better spread my legs for him. “Oh fuck I love it when you squirm!” He rasps pressing his face into the back of my neck, “all you can do is squirm and cry while I use you to stroke my cock.”

“Ah fuck! Please harder!” I sob tears of delicious pleasure blurring my vision.

He cackles loudly “so instatable!”

He bounces my body aggressively over his length. Each stroke more pleasurable than the last until there isn’t a coherent thought left in my head. Every ridge of his cock deliciously abusing my inner walls. All I can focus on is the erotic wet sounds of our bodies repeatedly colliding and the intense burning pleasure throughout my body. One of his hands release its clutch on my hips and snakes around to the front of my body to play with my clit. My whole being jerks and tenses and then I’m seeing stars, hot liquid comes squirting out of me with a wanton moan. My orgasm hits me like a freight train, powerless in his hold as I twist and gasp spraying him and the subway floor with my release until my body goes limp against him. He continues to drag me over his cock like a masturbation toy until a few final hard thrusts in a row tell me he’s reached is own peak. I can tell he’s speaking to me but my brain is too fucked out to actually grasp the words. Still keeping me anchored to his lap he releases my arms and pulls my limp body back against his chest in a weirdly comforting embrace. “I knew you wouldn’t last long! Did I play with you to hard?” He teases, pressing his face against my neck and shoulder. I lean back and tilt my head back against his soft hair. “No Mahito it was good thank you.” I murmur dreamily in response.

“Your welcome!”

The front of my body abruptly slams against the stony subway floor as Mahito shoves my off his lap without warning. Redressing and transforming back into his more human figure before taking off again down the subway. “Welp I’m off to kill Sukuna vessel! Let’s play more later!”

[pseudowho]

I swear to god, I blinked, and now there are Mahoraga fuckers???

???

???!?!?

[distortedkilling]

[lowkxytears]

jjk s1 ep 13: mahito has a special place in curse spirit hell

it’s just hit me how fucked up and sadistic mahito is. he sends a couple of transfigured humans at yuuji, and when yuuji gets one by the throat it struggles and then says “let’s play!” like thats a fucking child. that is a child that had hope and dreams and mahito up and fucked it up. it’s the same with junpei! like sometimes i forgot that teenagers are kids too! but it’s just so fucked up because he was manipulated by someone he thought understood him.

in short, when i finish this ep i hope that mahito is a dead bitch

[cheesecakethots]

i love the idea of an obliviously op reader. like a reader who is just as (if not more) powerful than those at the top of the food chain, and yet has no idea about it.

you casually bump into gojo satoru on the street and- what the fuck? you passed through his infinity? huh?

while he’s stood there having a bit of a crisis you’re on your merry way to buy some snacks for yourself.

i’m specifically thinking about a reader like this in shibuya.

passing by mahito only to point and grin at him, “cool cosplay! i don’t recognise the character, but you look great!”

he giggles, placing a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to disfigure you, to turn you into some misshapen monster that’ll join the ranks of the others-

you blink at him, tilting your head a little, only to then place your hand on his shoulder too. you stare at each other for a moment.

“that was weird. see ya!” and then you leave him there oh-so-casually.

sukuna is in disbelief when he sees you- his domain should’ve wiped out everyone in the area? who the fuck are you?

and you just stroll up to him cheerfully, “man, i love your tats! where did you get them? i’m considering getting some, but-“

he lifts his palm, you should immediately burst into flames-

“high-five!”

and then you leave him to just stand there in confusion, continuing on your way.

it’s the fact that you cannot perceive the danger you are in that makes the world around you all the less dangerous.

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

Life ruining son of a bitch.

People can like Suguru.

People can like Toji.

People can like Sukuna.

People can like Kenjaku.

But no one is allowed to like Mahito

[dolliestfairy]

Yandere Vampire Men x Chubby!Nun!reader

𑁍 Tw; Stalking, Monster-Fucking, Obsessiveness, Somnophilia, Noncon/dubcon, breeding kink (?), biting(obv), harshy grabbing, blood mentioned, virginity-take, the words 'rotten', implied murdering & religious theme. dead dove. Chubby Reader Fics With No Skintone Of Reader Mentioned.

This is a dark yandere fanfiction. if you dont like it then just block me ;) ୧₊˚

୨୧💭 thinking abt yandere!vampire!men who is obsessed with chubby!nun!reader. yandere!vampire!men whos freezing heart is now stuck with you. yandere!vampire!men whos colded heart is melting from fluttering once his eyes meet your plump & round appereance. yandere!vampire!men who eats all the other nuns & peoples who talked down on you. no creature ever should tell you what to do or else he'll rip their jaws off and snatched their ribs open. yandere!vampire!men who wants you to be his spouse, he wants you to be with him forever in the dead life! isnt that sound so spectacular my dear? yandere!vampire!men whos hands likes to touch your big ol thighs while you were sleeping, rubbing them softly up and down. at first it was belly, but the way of where he placed his hands is getting lower as he touch your thighs and later on his hands would touch your pussy and rubbing it softly within his fingers. putting his fingers in the middle of the entrance of your pussy lips. yandere!vampire!men who soon enough is inside you while you're half unconscious. whispering in your ears of how he is your savior and later on you'll get to marry him in the after life in which you just nod while your body is basically served his own. yandere!vampire!men who harshly grabbed your waist and stretch it apart, grabbing it so hard you can really feel his claws makes a pattern of it. it was feeling hurt enough to make you yelp until he start to put his fangs into your neck. pushing through your flesh while the blood slowly came out of the holes where his fangs made. slowing his thrust speed as you felt your body go warm and warm, until your vision start to become more and more blur, when your vision was starting to look white as you passed out at the chruch in the middle of the night where you just handed your virginity over someone or some 'creature' that you dont even know about. as your head and vision slowly and slowly become more unconscious, where you heard the creature muttering "finally, you are mine now."

Those Cold-blooded Vampires Are ;

OBITO UCHIHA, RYOMEN SUKUNA, Geto Suguru, Mahito, Nanami, Sasuke uchiha, VLAD TEPES, Hades, Sae Itoshi, Bachira, HOSHIGAKI KISAME, Mikey, Eren, Jack The Ripper, Kuroo Tetsuro, Semi Eita, Tsukishima Kei, Suna Rintarou, ITTO, Dottore, WRIOTHESLEY, Diluc, Zhongli, Kakashi Hatake, EVERY DIABOLIK LOVERS MEN, Buddha, Johan, Tendou, Oikawa & MALLEUS.

[noodle-is-unstable]

What size and look are the JJK Characters 🍆

(Head Cannons)

Ft ~ Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Ryoumen Sukuna, Choso, Takuma Ino, Shiu Kong, Uraume, Yuki Tsukumo, Shoko Ieiri, Mahito

Synopsis ~ What size and look are the JJK Characters 🍆

Content Warning ~ 18+, 🍆 descriptions. Idk adult stuff (Picture of monster 🍆 for reference)

BEFORE I START!

We are being (semi) Realistic here. Smut writers are out of control with the sizes. Here is a visual representation next to my forearm. This is 12 inches (30.48cm), basically my entire forearm and hand.

I'm a monsterfucker along with a lot of you but lets still be a little realistic here. No one is taking a foot long, subway sandwich length dick and not heading to the hospital after. This is an 8 inch monster cock and it is huge. 8 Inches (20.32cm) is BIG

Also while I'm at it GOJO DOESN'T HAVE 6 INCH (15.24cm) FUCKING FINGERS! WHO STARTED THAT?! He would look like salad fingers! fucking Slenderman ass fingers. Just no! Andre the Giant didn't even have 6 inch (15.24cm) fingers! He was 7'1" (2.24 meters)! Stop the Gojo finger LIES

Anyhoodle, that's my rant and information now enjoy the head cannons 💖

Gojo~

Size: 7.5" (19.05cm) Long. Not super thick but not awkwardly skinny either. Very middle of the road thickness

Description: Pale like him, blue veins can be seen all over it. The veins are very tactile and pop out a lot. Tip is also fairly pale but a blush pink. Leans slightly to the left

Geto ~

Size: 7" (17.78cm) Long. Thicc with two C's

Description: Two toned, darker at the base and more pink on the top 1/4th. Thick vein running underneath. THICK tip. Curves up

Nanami ~

Size: 7" (17.78cm) Long. Not terribly thick but a good girth

Description: All the same colour. Very aesthetically pleasing with one prominent vein up the right side. Tip is the same colour as the shaft. No lean, very straight

Toji ~

Size: 8" (20.32cm) Long. Thick too. He's a tanky man and his cock is the same

Description: Darker tone than the rest of his body. Fat veins running along it, very prominent. Tip is slightly lighter but still more tan than pink. Sharp right lean

Sukuna ~

The Twin Terrors are exact twins so this applies to both.

Size: 12" (30.48 cm) Long. Equally as thick as a forearm (He's a literal monster. Fight me.)

Description: Slightly pale compared to his body. Veins aren't super visible and don't poke out much. Tip is a deep pink in contrast to the rest. Tattooed circle at the base. Both gently curve up but sag because of the weight

Choso ~

Size: 6.5" (16.51cm) Long. Not thick or thin

Description: Prettiest cock you'll ever see. Same tone as his body. Deep blue veins that don't pop out much. Baby pink tip. No lean, very straight

Ino ~

Size: 6" (15.24cm) Long. On the thicker side

Description: Lighter than his body. One dark and thick vein running up the right side. Pretty pink tip. Small, almost invisible, left lean

Shiu ~

Size: 7" (17.78cm) Long. Slightly thicker than average

Description: Slightly darker than his body. One fat, light blue vein on top, doesn't pop up much. Tip is only a slighter shade of pink. Small right curve

Uraume ~

Size: Unknown

Description: It's unknown what happens between the ethereal beings legs and I won't be speculating. It's a portal to a different dimension for all we need to know

Yuki ~

Size: Everything from 3" (7.62cm) to 15" (38.10cm) Long and any thickness can imagine

Description: Yuki is a collector and has every kind of cock shape known to man or monster. Her dildo collection is unmatched

Shoko ~

Size: 5.5" (12.70cm) Long. Most average thickness

Description: Shoko prefers a very average sized dildo. Not too big, not to small. just average

Mahito ~

Size: Anything

Description: Just say what size, shape, colour, curve, thickness and Mahito will provide. Get ready for things to get weird because you can literally fuck any monster with him

[sugurus-fave-monkey]

Soul Snared

I do not know exactly what possessed me to write this. It was supposed to be a little Drabble but I got carried away. This is my first time writing anything of the sort soooo. Pairing is Mahito x Reader, and I guess this could be monster fucking (I think)

TW/CW: 18+MDNI, Mahito is his own warning, Geto mentioned and appears briefly. jealousy, Non con / dubious consent, spit, tentacles, choking, slapping, restraints, orgasm denial, orgasm, fingering, the tentacles cum, breeding, belly bulge, degradation, predator/prey, oral, vaginal sex, anal sex, deep throating, lots of tongue, shape shifting, dead dove do not eat, fr though this is a lot,not proofread, made on mobile, if there’s more I should mention please let me know.

Word count >2500

NSFW under the cut

Mahito had been the one to find you. He knew not a thing about you, but Geto had said you could be beneficial to them, so he had sought you out. Geto had instructed him to tail you for a while, but Mahito lacked the patience for that, so when he cornered you in an alleyway and you paralyzed his puppets without breaking a sweat, he knew why Geto had targeted you.

Rather than him having to subdue you, you had came along willingly, babbling about how the other sorcerers pissed you off, and you were tired of them having their heads up their asses. Mahito paid attention, always trying to improve his knowledge of humans.

He had observed, how upon entering Dagon’s domain your eyes had widened at the sight of Geto, rushing over to him, practically foaming at the mouth. Geto reassuring you that he was, very much, alive. The overjoyed expression on your face when you found out that your best friend, your mentor, was still alive. And Mahito felt something stir inside him, something new. Was it anger?

For weeks, Mahito watched as the two of you left together to do recon, unsure of how to process what he was feeling. He would lounge on the beach chair, trying to focus on whatever book he was reading. He had thought that if he had captured you, he would be the one to accompany you, after all, he needed to learn more about humans. Why should Geto always be the one with you, when he was human as well? He would try to ignore the rage he felt inside of him, when you and Geto would come back, your hair a mess, Geto’s robes undone, and you giggling, while Geto’s hand rested on your shoulder seemingly guiding you.

Finally Mahito was told the two of you would be working together, with your base of operations being the sewers. That was Mahito’s element, underground, rather than the sun beating down on him heavily. He had left ahead of you, having been told that Geto needed to tell you more specifics.

You had made your way down to the sewers, squinting your eyes to adjust to the gloom, Geto had given you some sort of drink to help block the smell, and you were thankful. Your footsteps echoed off the walls as you made your way closer to where Mahito would be. You finally reached him, he was lying on a concrete slab, his arms folded under his head.

He watched as you pulled out your phone, waiting for whoever you were calling to answer.

“Yup. I found him.” A small smile curled on your lips. “Yeah yeah, I know, Geto.” You giggled, and Mahito felt the rage course through his body again. “Okay got it. See you soon.” You ended the call and went to greet Mahito, but you were unable to speak.

Mahito had launched his hand at you, fingers curling around your neck, easily pushing you against the wall. “Ghaack Mah-“ was all you could muster before his fingers squeezed tighter around your throat. Tears brimmed in your eyes, as you clawed at his hand, feeling yourself get light headed.

Mahito took his time walking toward you, with a grin plastered on his face. He allowed his grip on your neck to slacken ever so slightly, allowing you to suck air into your lungs before tightening it again. His face was mere inches away from yours, you could feel the heat from his breath on your face. His eyes were filled with malice, rage, and something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. He was a curse, he wasn’t supposed to feel emotions, at least that’s what Geto had explained, while he assured you that you would be safe with Mahito. You cursed Geto in your head, and cursed yourself for listening to his honeyed words, and meeting his every order.

Your tears had finally spilled out, wetting your cheeks as you continued to struggle against the curse. However you froze up when Mahito stuck his tongue out, licking your tears away, the appendage hot on your cold skin. You shuddered as your brain practically screamed at you to subdue him, and run. You placed your hands together, ready to use your technique, but Mahito was too fast.

Two more hands sprung from Mahito, grabbing your wrists, and pinning you against the wall.

“Nice try, but you’re too slow.” Mahito taunted you. Now that he had you pinned, he released the hold on your throat, leaving you sputtering, coughing, and gasping for air.

“What the fuck is wrong with you Mahito?” You shouted. “Aren’t we on the same side?”

At that, Mahito cackled, he fucking cackled. “What do you think I’m going to kill you?” He sneered.

“If you hurt me, Geto will crush you!” You cried out.

“Geto this, Geto that!” Mahito spat. “I’m the one who found you! I’m the one that should own you!”

Realization hit you at that moment. Mahito was jealous, but that couldn’t be right. His nature was feral, more animalistic than human. You felt your stomach drop, and suddenly recognized that other emotion, it was lust. Mahito saw you as prey, and from what Geto had told you, he enjoyed toying with his prey.

You spat in his face, it was all you could do from your position, which earned you a backhand from Mahito, who smirked at you. Your ears rang, and your face felt hot where he slapped you.

“Finally caught on huh?” Mahito’s voice was icy, full of malice. “Geto’s not here to save you, so I’d suggest you do as I say. And if not, I’ll just turn you into a puppet to do with as I please. You’ll still be aware of everything, but you won’t be able to fight. Wouldn’t want that, now would you?” He giggled and stuck his tongue out.

You shook your head, too afraid to speak, nobody had ever treated you this way before.

“Ok then! Let’s get started.” Mahito said in a sickly sweet tone, before pressing his lips against yours. You gasped, and when you opened your mouth he took advantage of that, pushing his tongue into your mouth. He took his time, exploring slowly, rubbing against your canines, daring you to bite down, but he knew you wouldn’t. He had you exactly where he wanted you, and he felt the bulge in his pants beginning to grow. He pulled away for a moment giving you a second to breathe, before he was on you again, his tongue pushing its way to your throat. His tongue was long, too long, as it filled your mouth up, poking at your uvula before slowly making its way inch by inch down your throat.

You moaned around his lips, clenching your thighs together, your body betraying you. You knew Mahito had the ability to change his shape at will, but you never expected this. You gagged around his tongue, as it pulled in and out of your throat, your wrists straining against the hands that kept you bound. Mahito pulled away,his tongue slowly pulling out of your throat, only to wedge his knee between your legs. You hissed at the sensation, the friction revealing how wet you were.

“See that’s not so bad huh?” Mahito smiled at you as he let you free from your restraints. You rubbed your wrists, trying to coax some sensation back into your hands. “Why don’t you get undressed and lie down for me?”

It wasn’t a question. You slowly undressed, your shaky hands fumbling as you unclasped your bra, and slid off your panties, and you lied down upon the concrete slab, the coldness making you hyper aware of your body. You shuddered as Mahito sprang out some vine like appendages from his back. They wrapped themselves around your wrists and ankles, spreading your legs, and pulling your arms upwards.

Mahito licked his lips before walking towards you, and taking a seat, you could feel his breath on your cunt. Mahito swiped at your entrance with his index finger, before roughly shoving it inside you, causing you to yelp and buck your hips. Mahito was anything but gentle, pumping his finger in and out of you, exploring inside of you. You moaned, putting aside any anger you had. Mahito added a second finger and began to scissor his fingers inside of you.

“F-fuck feels good.” You moan out. You feel more of those things on your body, two of them circling on your tits, before they latched onto your nipples, one was seemingly biting, the other was sucking, another one made its way to your mouth, sliding in with ease, seemingly growing bigger as it slid down your throat.

Mahito groaned, as the appendage fucked in and out of your throat, he could feel everything that was connected to him, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to impale you on his cock, and fill you up fully. He replaced his fingers with his tongue, exploring your walls, hitting spots that were normally untouched. He sent a vine to your clit, making it suck on it, and rub circles.

It was too much, there were too many sensations, you gagged around the vine in your throat, and it slowly pulled out. “S’too much!” You cried.

Mahito withdrew his tongue from you, and the vines stood still. You could have cried, all of this, and the curse wouldn’t let you cum? You were about to protest, when you saw him unbuttoning his pants, and you widened your eyes. His cock was huge, thick, veiny, and had a row of stitches on it. There was no way that thing was fitting in you. Mahito pumped himself with his hand a couple times, before pressing against your folds, and you were right. The tip couldn’t fit inside. Mahito looked disappointed, and then shrugged, and right before your eyes, the girth of his dick shrank, allowing him to spear you on his length.

You cried out, as it stretched you, adjusting its size, growing inside of you. The vines resumed the roaming of your body, as Mahito thrusted into you slowly, feeling how your muscles clenched around him. He pressed down on your lower stomach, feeling himself. Your muffled moans grew louder, and he increased his speed, fucking into you roughly.

“Such a good girl, taking it all.” Mahito sneered. He felt your body tense up at his words. “Aw are you gonna cum for me? Huh? What a pathetic human, letting a curse fuck her. Go on then. Cum.”

Mahito’s degradation forced you to come undone, your eyes rolling into the back of your head, as your muscles tensed, your hips bucking wildly as you climaxed, squirting on the curse’s abdomen. Mahito pulled the vine out of your throat, allowing you to breathe fully.

“Fuck, you’re so filthy, squirting all over me. ‘M gonna fill you up, stuff you full.” Mahito groaned as his own release came closer. His balls clenched, as his cum sprayed inside you, ropes and ropes being churned from inside of him.

You allowed yourself to relax a moment, thinking it was over, that he had his fun with you, until you felt something wet against your asshole.

“N-no not there!” You squeaked out.

Mahito tsked at you, before flipping you over, onto your hands and knees, his vines locking you into position. His thrust his cock into your cunt again, and used his tentacle to slowly pry open your ass, your muscles clenching, trying to stop the intrusion. Mahito brought his hand down swiftly upon your ass, causing you to jump. “Just relax. It won’t hurt.”

What little resistance, defiance you had once possessed no longer existed. You couldn’t form coherent thoughts any more. You relaxed, and Mahito was right, the vine was warm, and coated in something slick, a moan coming from your lips, as every single part of you was stuffed full. Mahito wrapped vines around your waist, and used them to stabilize you, allowing you to collapse and be held in the air as Mahito bullied his cock and vines into you. When he would thrust in the vine would pull out. And he could expand, contract and lengthen them at will. Tears were spilling from your eyes, and drool was dripping from your mouth, forming a puddle on the slab under you.

“I told you it wouldn’t hurt. You like it huh? Being stuffed full, your body being mine to treat as I please.” Mahito taunted as he watched all your holes swallowing him up, his dick fucking his cum into you, hopefully pushing it into your womb. He quickened the pace of the vine in your mouth, pushing it deeper and deeper into your throat, before it finally released in you. As it pulled out you coughed up some of the cum it expelled into your throat.

The vine attached to your clit was pulled off, being replaced with Mahito’s thumb, roughly circling, applying just the right amount of pressure. “M-Mahito d-don’t stop.” You moaned weakly.

“Again? Alright, you can cum, but only if you tell me who you belong to.” Mahito smirked.

“Y-you! I belong to you Mahito, you own me!” You cried out, as your second release snapped, causing you to shudder, and twitch, your body relaxing completely. And as you came so did the vine fucking into your ass, filling your tight hole with cum, leaving its mark inside of you.

“Th-that’s right. Nngh f-fuck. M’ gonna breed you, give you all my cum., fill you up. You want that?” Mahito’s voice trembled, pleasure coursing through his body.

“Y-yes fuck, fill me up, please. Please breed me Mahito.” You were no longer thinking, words were just coming out of your mouth at this point.

“That’s it fuck, take it all, let me fill your womb up.” Mahito hissed as he planted his seed inside of you for a second time, and you could have sworn you felt a bulge in your belly as he fucked his cum further inside of you. You were exhausted, absolutely spent. Mahito slowly lowered you down, retracting the vines back into his body, before pulling out of you. And you slowly drifted into a deep slumber.

You awoke to the sound of hushed voices and kept your eyes closed. Your body had been covered in a blanket, and you were thankful for that.

“So you’ve found another finger?” You heard Mahito ask.

“Yes. I trust that you can carry out the plan?” That was Geto’s voice. You assumed he came to make sure you were okay.

The small talk continued, growing louder, footsteps approaching, until the two of them were standing above you.

“What’s this?” Geto asks. “Have you already started our little experiment?” Your eyes flutter open.

“Experiment?!” You move to sit up, however, vines bind you to where you’re laying.

Geto simply chuckles before he brushes his fingers over your face. “Of course. Seeing if a sorcerer can have a viable pregnancy with a curse.” He turns to Mahito. “Let me know if anything changes.”

And that’s when you notice for the first time, the stitches in his head, and you realize, whatever that is, is not Suguru Geto.

[lunerabo]

bedbug

cw: sub!Mahito, dom!AFAB!Reader, can we even call this pegging, dark content, stabbing, gore, evisceration (kinda), fauxjob, throatfucking (a new definition of it), dawg why did I write this

If you’re a sorcerer, you’re either here against your will, or you’re insane, they’d said.

You’re the latter; something’s been knocked just slightly off course in your mind to make you say the things you do, act the way you do. You enjoy the job far more than anyone in your field should. While others long to escape, you dream of plunging further in.

And plunge you do, just how the creature beneath you begs, its need for torture insatiable.

Blue hair swings and bobs beneath you, the curse’s throat making way for you as you fuck his mouth like you hate him. You do, you think. He’s terrific fun, though. Perhaps that’s why you let him live long enough to have him visit you like this.

He looks up at you, and you don’t like it. You sneer at him, gripping his bangs and shoving his head back downward to keep him from meeting your gaze. A giggle escapes him, cheeky, composed, far too much for your liking. Those sloppy gagging noises please you far more.

He slides off of you with a wet puah sound, tongue still out as he does. He licks his lips.

“Want to see something cool?”

That’s never good, coming out of his mouth. You make a face at him, something between a disapproving sneer and an exasperated grimace, lips pulled taut and brow furrowed. But against your better judgement, you nod at him once, the kind of casual ‘what’s up’ motion you’d send his way if you walked past him on the street.

Slender fingers stretch into talons that rend his own flesh, tearing into the soft, yielding skin beneath his chin and ungracefully ripping down and outward, spraying blood with the force of his pull. Skin stretches and tears like a plastic bag, becoming thin and white before it begins to rip. He bleeds profusely down his chest, more so when he reaches in and causes even more aimless damage. No move he makes is calculated; he may as well have stuck a potato masher in there.

Yet you watch, transfixed, and most amazingly, not nauseated by the sight. Your gaze follows in amazement as he draws the cut a little ways down his chest, ripping out anything he can grab that the opening allows. Torn nerves and skin and muscle and part of what you think is his esophagus hang limply outside his body, and he bleeds all over his lap before you, grinning and smug and eager to put on a show.

His tongue lolls out when he opens his jaw, no longer attached to anything except the bottom of his mouth. He swipes it down across his chin, something that shouldn’t be possible, with him having severed its connection in his throat.

And fuck, he’s beautiful.

Mahito shows you what surely awaits you in hell. He’s a picture of the horrors that plagued the minds of the disturbed across centuries, depicted in paintings of demons and monsters and those meeting their due punishments. You’re not likely to be grinning that much, but perhaps he knows that, and finds his own pleasure in that knowledge.

He scrambles towards you, bloodied hands clawing up your thighs, and he begs wordlessly. A hand wraps around your toy, sets it against his face. He looks up at you.

“My, you are a pretty creature, aren’t you?”

Soft, tender hands brush hair from his face as though they love him, a finger sliding underneath to run up the length of the exposed flesh to feel what he feels like on the inside. It presses down on his tongue, cleaning itself of the blood it has collected.

You force your way in, not through his mouth, but now through the new hole he has so graciously made for you.

Warm blood gushes down your thighs and a downright pornographic groan rips from his ruined throat despite his severed vocal cords. For a moment, you actually wonder how it is his body works to make that possible.

He clings to you desperately, begging for more, more, more, holding your waist flush against his opened neck. The fleshy bulge bobbing at the back of his throat bursts with the pressure he forces on it, and the bulbous head of the strap pokes through. It disappears and reappears through a hole in the flesh that doesn’t even appear to be there when you aren’t poking through it, and Mahito seems to revel in having his throat fucked backwards far more than anything else you’ve done to him. His eyes roll back and the corners of his lips pull upward, his tongue hanging out and moving a little each time the strap presses against the back of it. Blood and drool pour from his mouth, and he fucks into his fist beneath you like he’s about to burst at the seams.

He looks up at you, slack-jawed and glassy-eyed, and a warmth that definitely doesn’t flow like more blood trickles down your leg.

You withdraw, and he looks down at himself for a second. He’s drenched the both of you in blood but the wound seals in an instant, and he licks his lips and swallows, as if to make sure he put everything back correctly.

You coo at him, tone sickly sweet, feeding him words of hatred and disgust that he eats right up with a grin.

“That was a lot of fun!” He exclaims, voice light and airy, “but I’ve done something bad, though, haven’t I?” That familiar cheekiness returns, a telltale sign that he knows he’s not done. But he doesn’t want to be.

“That you have, boy.”

The curse leans back, gesturing for you to look at the whole expanse of his body.

“So where do you want me to make the next hole?”

[nekoprankster218]

The usual story:

Magic companion: Let's go on an adventure kid!

Kid protagonist: Heck yeah!

The magic world: *whimsy and fun*

The Boy and the Heron:

demonic stinky Grey Heron: I'm here to take you on an adventure, and possibly tear out and eat your heart if I feel like it

Mahito, home-making his own bow and arrow: Leave me the fuck alone I'll kill you monster

The world in the tower: *whimsically mysterious and also fucked up and lowkey Cosmic Horror*

[after-witch]

When You Looked at Me, I Should Have Run [Mahito x Reader]

Title: When You Looked at Me, I Should Have Run [Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: Your trip to Japan doesn’t go as planned, thanks to a monster in the forest.

Word count: 7400ish

notes: Yandere(ish); body horror, violence, vore and implied digestion, reader is transmasc

If there was one thing you could appreciate about getting lost in Japan, it was the fact that people were very willing to give you directions. So when the realization hit you--you have been unfortunately walking the wrong way for some time now--there is none of that stomach-churning dread that occurs back home, when asking someone for directions typically ends with someone telling you to “fucking looking it up on your phone.”

And sure, you didn’t exactly speak Japanese, but that’s what your secondhand “301 Phrases You’ll Need in Japan!” book was for! You’d also found that you could ask in English, and people didn’t seem to mind. Or at least, they didn’t say they minded, and that was what counted. 

Sighing, you grab the book out of your tote bag and begin to flip through. A few people veer to the side from behind you after the sudden stop, but you pay them no mind, instead focusing on finding just the right phrase you need. When you do, you repeat it out loud what feels like a million times before tucking the book away.

The map comes out next, and you unfold it haphazardly, searching for the hiking trail you’ve been searching for all morning. It was supposed to be really scenic, but a little off the beaten path. Perfect for photos, plus you could tell your friends back home that you weren’t on one of the annoying overcrowded tourist paths, which was always a bonus. 

Now, to find someone to help and--ah! 

A young man leaning up against the alley wall of a charming little storefront would do. He’s dressed unusually, wearing a flowing shirt with a striped pattern, and he was maybe in an accident of some kind, with stitches on his face. But you don’t stare (well, maybe for a second); because that would be exceptionally rude, Japan or otherwise. 

You smile, bowing (maybe too low, maybe too dramatically, but it was hard to get the angles right) and hold up your map. In very accented Japanese, you ask, “Can you help me find the…” And the word you had memorized from the book vanishes, so you tap the map, shaking the paper. “Mountain trail?” You complete in English. 

The man blinks at you, saying nothing, which is a bit strange. A bit rude, you might say. Maybe you pronounced the words completely wrong. You fumble for the book, finding the page again, and hold it up for him to see. “Mountain trail?” You ask again, still in English.

The man blinks again. 

You sigh, and point at the page where the phrase sits, not wanting to attempt a pronunciation in Japanese at the moment. 

He leans in closer, too close, really, and his silver hair ghosts your shoulder. Mismatched eyes--contact lenses? He was really trendy!--scan up and down before he moves backward, staring at you again.

Then--

The man grins.

Widely. Unusually so, among the people you’ve met. But perhaps since he was younger, he was breaking social norms a bit. I mean, he already was, with his outfit--with his hair, long and impossibly silver. And those contacts! 

His eyes roam over you--and you feel suddenly self-conscious of yourself, wearing a simple touristy t-shirt and trousers with hiking boots--and his finger finds the map even as his eyes never leave your face. 

The finger slithers down the paper, and you force yourself to follow it (geez, why was he staring so rudely?) as it lands on a particular sidestreet marked with a hiking trail symbol. It’s not too far off, thankfully, and you could probably cut across a few streets to get there sooner. 

He says something in Japanese, but you don’t know what. When you stare at him blankly, he grins again.

“Forest,” he says, in English. His grin gets even wider, somehow, and you swear one of his stitches twitches. “Fun.” 

“Thank… you very much,” you murmur, in your accented Japanese, before giving the strange young man another exaggerated bow. You wave--a habit--and don’t bother folding the map before you leave, walking quicker than you might have, to avoid wasting anymore time on this trip.

The wave seems to amuse him, and he waves back, beaming. 

A strange young man, sure. But just as helpful as anyone else you’ve met on your trip so far. And his hair was really pretty; it was a wonder nobody was so much as staring at him.

--

There is something in the forest.

There is something in the forest, wild and large.

There is something in the forest, wild and large--and it is following you.

You’re not sure exactly when it started; you weren’t paying much attention to the forest itself until it became too loud and obvious to ignore. There weren’t enough service bars on your phone to look it up, but it had to be some kind of bear, right? Japan did have bears--you think. 

Maybe it was a deer. But deer would be too skittish, wouldn’t they? To follow you around in the woods, despite all the noise you were making. Unless it was one of those deer that was used to being fed by people, though if that was the case, wouldn’t it have made itself known by now? Begging for an apple and bowing, like the videos you saw online.

Probably not a deer. Maybe a bear. Or a fox or something else large and rumbly and, you think, eyeing you as a potential snack. 

Whatever it was, it was staying hidden. In the brush and trees, with the occasional rustle and snapping branch to give away its position. 

What do you do? Your mind tries to trace back to those Saturday evenings spent watching the occasional “When Animals Attack” documentary with your family. There were episodes on bees and mountain lions and sharks and bears, too, you’re sure… should you play dead? Make more noise? Run like hell? 

How can you get help, in the middle of the woods?

There’s on one else on the trail. Your phone isn’t working. And you’re not entirely sure if you should retrace your steps or keep going on ahead, to make it lose interest. The choices are all too confusing, with the adrenaline steadily growing inside your body, and your heart beginning to beat altogether too fast.

A decision can’t be made, not like this, heart and brain buzzing too quick and too loud to be steady enough for a proper thought process. 

In the end, though–

It doesn’t matter.

Your choice is made for you, when the animal retreats from the camouflage of the brush and steps right onto the trail. Its body takes up the entire trail, and it’s a wonder it was able to hide amongst the leaves and branches at all. 

And–

And it’s not a bear, or a deer, or anything you’ve ever seen before.

The creature that has been following you for oh-so-many steps is deformed. A monster. Something you’ve never seen in your entire life and so entirely wrong in its construction that your brain doesn’t register it as being real for a few awful, agonizing moments.

What is it–

It--whatever it is--has too many limbs. That’s what stands out at first, because it’s the most bearable thing to look at--the limbs. There are at least 6, skin-colored arms sprouting from the torso on downward. Claws or… hands? Fuck, they look like hands; hands are at the end of each arm, fingers wiggling like worms.

The creature doesn’t just have too many limbs. There are too many mouths, all open and red, with white human-like teeth showing in the center. Opening and closing and there’s a sound being made, but you can’t register if it’s human speech. It couldn’t be, because this thing was not a human. The sight of it was making you crazy, that’s all, and that craziness traveled from your retinas to your ears.

The worst sight of all, and it’s the sight of this that finally unfreezes your legs, is the rippling underneath the skin. A solid mass worming its way around the body. Like there was something else underneath the flesh, waiting to burst out, slithering along like a gorged snake.

You couldn’t let it come closer. You wouldn’t let it. 

So when your legs feel like they can move, when your breath gets sucked in with a terrible gasping that nearly chokes you, you bolt.

The creature comes after you. Of course it does. You ran like prey, and you feel like prey; you are prey, here, in the woods. You hear the creature now in full force, no longer meandering in the brush of the woods, but chasing you. The sound of too many feet hitting the ground, the sound of the air whipping by its many arms, and its breathing. Steady, loud, increasing as it gets closer. 

Your own breath comes out ragged, desperate, wheezing. You weren’t made to run like this–or perhaps you were, and that’s the crux of this whole damn trip–but this creature was clearly meant to chase. 

Regret on ever coming to the woods courses through you every time your feet pound against the ground, but regret wasn’t going to save you. Thoughts whir together--don’t let it catch me, how do I get out of here, will anyone be able to help me?--as you rush down the winding paths of the forest trail.

But there’s no one in sight, and there surely wouldn’t be anyone to help you if you went deeper into the woods. The only chance for salvation, if there was a chance at all, would be to head back towards the city. Monsters didn’t live in cities, didn’t thrive there. There’s an almost prickling fantasy that blurs through your mind: cross the threshold of the trail and it will stop instantly, like a fairy tale creature unable to cross a magic bridge. 

You will be safe, if you can get back there. 

But how to get there, with a beast at your back? 

You’ve got to turn around, somehow. If you can turn around, you can go back the way you came, and get back to human civilization. If you get back to human civilization, where monsters are dreams and movie magic, you will live. 

If you keep going into the woods, you’ll only get lost, you’ll be so deep that no one will hear you scream. If you even had the lung capacity to scream, after all this running. Would the lungs the monster tears through with its claws, its teeth, have anything left in them? 

You can’t turn around the proper way. Your brain, frantic though it is, is steady enough to understand that fact. You’ll lose momentum if you try to pivot and go back the way you came, and who is to say if you’ll be fast enough to evade the monster at all? 

But you want to live. 

So you do what the signs at the beginning of the trail forbade you to do, and veer off the trail, pushing into the thicket of the forest. The branches snag on your clothes, and you’re glad you decided against wearing the fanny pack after all. You’re able to pull the fabric of your shirt and trousers free from the branches as they snap and rustle around you; a fanny pack would have been a death sentence.

And when you make your desperate foray into the thicket of the woods, something happens. Something that makes your blood run cold, despite the heat of your pumping muscles and the sweat beginning to drip down your back.

The creature stops running. Oh, just for a moment.  You hear the racket of its limbs, of its power and size, cease. And you hear a little sound, a bit like a chuckle. That can’t be right, though. It must be catching its breath. Even monstrous creatures get tired. 

It must have been a wheeze, that’s all. The alternative is far worse.

It doesn’t stay still for long. You hear its body pushing through the canopy of trees now, too. 

It’s faster than you. And stronger than you.

But you keep running. Desperate, human, wanting to avoid the horrible fate at the end of its teeth and claws.

Your thighs and lungs and chest burn awfully as you hop over branches, run through canopies of leaves that slap your face as you go through them, the sting of micro-scratches registering as if you’re experiencing them as a third party.

What does a few scratches mean, if you get attacked by some--thing? No one will ever find your body, probably. Or it will be so unrecognizable that they’ll never identify you.

If you trip now, you’re done for. If you trip now, that thing will be on you, with its many mouths and many hands and many teeth.

If you trip now, that is.

Somehow, sheer dumb luck or some otherworldly being guiding your burning legs, you don’t trip until you reach the very edge of the woods, when the beautiful sight of the trail’s entrance is within arm’s reach. 

“Fuck!” 

You shout out, hands catching you before you hit the ground proper and hurting awfully in the process. Your palms sting, you’re sure there will be blood and scrapes. Like when you used to trip on the sidewalk as a kid and you wound up with gravel in your palms for the trouble.

That doesn’t matter though. What matters is that you can feel the weight of the creature behind you, can imagine it rearing up, can smell something--its breath, its body?--and you know you’re about to die.

This is it. A lifetime, all ended with–

Ding-ding-ding!

The ring of a bicycle bell turns out to be your saving grace. Someone pulling up to hike or maybe they heard your distress or who fucking cares, really, because at the sight of the bell, you hear the monster retreat back into the woods.

The person on the bike seems appropriately concerned at the state of you, sweat plasteirng your hair and clothes to your skin, your face red with exertion. They offer a hand and you don’t know what they’re saying because the thought of getting your translation book out right now is the furthest thing from your mind.

They murmur in concern at the scrapes on your hands. Those scrapes are nothing, compared to what was behind you; what should have happened, when you tripped. Child’s play, in more ways than one.

You let this stranger–your savior, really–guide you on jelly-like legs that carry you away from the forest, back towards the little town and what must be safety. Safety in numbers, safety in humanity, safety in the knowledge that the streets are filled with buildings, bikes, cars; the smell of automobile smoke and food stalls. The chatter of people, car horns, all of it a far cry from the wild woods and the wild creature behind you.

As you walk away on unsteady legs, you swear you hear another sound from the forest. you swear–but no, no, the rational part of your mind bubbles you safely away from it; oh, it can’t be real it can’t be real it can’t be real.

Because--

It sounds like laughter.

--

You don’t tell the police about the arms, and mouths, or the laughter. Only that you were chased by some kind of animal--you don’t know what--that was following you on the trail. 

The police smile at your story, told to them in shakily typed app-translated Japanese, and one of them types into his own translation app that they will search the forest, but that it was probably an aggressive bear. 

It was not a bear. You know this. You know this, and you let them placate you with assurances that they will put up signs, and send out a forest warden. Despite the awful knowledge that nests in your stomach like a rotten egg: this was not a goddamn bear. 

It was a monster in those woods. 

But who would believe you, if you tried to tell the truth?

–

The stranger with the silver hair and mismatched eyes spots you that afternoon, sitting at a local cafe with what must be a shaken, sullen expression. You’ve hardly touched the food you ordered, instead keeping your hands wrapped around your warm drink, focusing on the way it spreads through your fingers. 

Not that he seems to mind your look or the clear tension surrounding you like miasma. In fact, he plops right into the chair across from you without even asking, all grins, and swipes one of the mini sandwiches you ordered for lunch.

The audacity. The over-familiarity. Honestly? You can’t help but find it refreshing, in this moment, your mind and body still shaken from the ordeal. It was better than the awkward distance between you and everyone else; it was like the monster in the forest had laid its scent on you, and everyone knew to keep a step back.

“Trail?” He asks, eyes glancing over your hair, cropped short and still sticking a little to your forehead from sweat. He smiles a little–at you, maybe. Or maybe he just likes to smile. “Fun?”

The word hits, but not too hard. Not as hard as it would have, if anyone else had asked it.

It’s not like he knew what happened. And maybe… maybe he would know something more? A local who knew the trail, who lived around here, might take you more seriously than the police. Especially since he was a little strange himself, he might be used to the idea of not being believed. 

So you shake your head and offer up your phone to this perfect stranger, with the translated story from the police station still typed in. An animal, but you didn’t know what kind; a chase through the woods. 

“Ah,” he says, after a while of staring unblinking at the screen. “No fun.” He smiles, when he shouldn’t. “Scared.”

“Yeah,” you admit, breathily, almost smiling yourself. A lighthearted confirmation for a terrifying experience. Something about this stranger makes you want to open up. Makes you want to trust him. It’s like he gets you, and considering the fact that you stuck out like a sore thumb in this small foreign town, you latched right onto it. 

Then, leaning forward, you type the eager words into your app before asking them out loud: “Have you ever heard of there being a monster in that forest?”

You’re not sure if he knows enough English to register what you’ve said before reading the phone screen, but your words make his eyes widen. 

So you continue, almost babbling a bit, describing it in more detail. You’re not sure how much he understands, how much he’s getting. Your fingers type frantically into the app, repeating a choppy version of what comes bubbling out of your lips, hoping it makes enough sense. App translators weren’t exactly known for their accuracy. 

But you want to tell him, need to tell him, all about the way it moved, the odd breathy sounds that almost sounded like speech, and the rippling under the skin. The primal feeling of being prey in the woods, the same as any rabbit, any deer. 

People are glancing over as you speak, as you show this stranger your phone and go on about the horrors of the forest; and you’re not entirely sure if it’s because he committed an awful social faux pas in plopping down at your table to casually or because of you. Your words, your clothes, the way you’re getting increasingly frantic as he actually listens to what you say and doesn’t tell you that you’re some crazy American tourist who might consider going back to your hotel and taking a nap.

He gets you, he gets this, you’re sure of it even before you’re finished with your story.

When you’re done, you can feel new beads of sweat dripping down the back of your neck. During the course of your conversation, his wide-eyed expression has gone somber. Seriously. Like he knows exactly what you mean and it makes your chest clench in sick hope. 

“Yes,” he says, finally; low, leaning forward. His voice is soft and earnest and you latch onto it in a sea of unfamiliarity. “I know about a monster.” He glances around, apparently now keenly aware of the stares, although they only make him grin. “I tell you… not here. At home.” 

Home? His home? Maybe you shouldn’t--lord, stranger danger--but the stares only seem to intensify when he stands up, and you follow suit on instinct. It makes you feel naked, judged. Frayed-nerves don’t do anything but amplify the sensation. 

This is stupid. You read enough travel articles before coming to know that you shouldn’t go to places with a stranger. Hell, you knew that before you searched “Japan travel tips” on your phone for the first time–how many times did your mother tell you to never be alone with a stranger, back when you were small and so very different? 

But you were an adult now. More sure of yourself, in more ways than one. And this stranger, this strange young man, might be able to help you. If someone else knew about the monster, well; it might mean you weren’t out of your mind. It might mean you could leave Japan with this part of yourself intact. 

It’s something of a relief when the stranger grabs your wrists and pulls you away from the cafe. 

Your stomach flutters equally with that relief–and uncertainty. 

--

His home, he explains in his own accented English, is at the edge of the forest. It’s enough to make you nearly trip over your own shoes, when he tells you. The stranger turns around, smiles, but he doesn’t stop walking. He doesn’t let go of your wrist, either, holding it with a gentle firmness that makes you want to avoid pulling away.

“Scared?” His smile is small and almost private. Whether it’s just for you, or him, you’re not sure.

You swallow. And nod. A knot of fear tightens in your stomach, but you try to remember that there is strength in numbers. 

He looks you up and down, and tugs you closer, so that you’re walking nearly side by side as he holds you close. The closeness is, you think, a comfort. 

“The monster lives anywhere,” he says. There’s a blend of solemnity and humor to his tone that you can’t quite place. It might just be his accent, you tell yourself.

You tell yourself a lot of things. Like that he sidepasses the forest trail and takes you through a shortcut in the woods because it’s quicker, and safer.

Branches and leaves snap underfoot, and the dead silence of anything but the noise the pair of you make as you walk is all too familiar. The quiet is unusual, in a forest like this. There should be the sound of animals, the sound of scurrying, the steady hum of insects.

Silence in a forest means something is wrong. 

You shouldn’t be here, your body tells you. Your heart begins to pound again, and you tug a little on your wrist--you should tell him that you don’t want to go to his home, after all. You’re fine with not knowing the truth about the monster.

You’re fine with not following this stranger into the woods, in a foreign country, after having just been chased by something mere hours ago. 

If he notices your tug, your apprehension, then he says nothing. He only maintains his steady grip, his steady smile. 

“The monster eats people,” he says again, with that awful casualness. There’s a thought in your mind--you, tripping, the monster over you, tearing you apart with its teeth. Nobody finding your body, or whatever was left of it.

Without warning, the stranger stops. His grip on your wrist loosens and you slowly pull it towards you, heart thudding in your chest.

He stopped, yes, but why? There’s no house here. Only the woods around you, without the comfort of the manmade trail as a guide. Not that the trail kept you safe the first time. And are you really at the edge of the forest? If anything, you walked deep into it, away from the trails, from the markers, from the tourist spots marked on the maps.

Oh. 

Something is wrong, something is wrong, something is–

“How do you know so much about the monster?” You ask, quietly. There’s only so much room for proper thoughts in your brain, and the only one that worms its way to the top is a sensible, naive question. “Have you seen it before?”

He doesn’t answer. Not in words, English or otherwise. You wish he did. You wish he kept talking, and you kept talking, and you found yourself at some run-down shack where he lived off the grid.

That doesn’t happen.

Instead, he tilts his head up, long hair almost slithering across his shoulders with the movement. As he does, he grins, the profile of it broad and then wide and then wider and then--

Then it’s so wide that it splits his face into two, revealing a mass of dark red colored flesh and teeth sharp enough to tear through your muscles. And oh, my, grandmother, what big teeth you have.

There are undoubtedly words within you, words that might express the primal shock and horror at what you're seeing. But all that comes out of your mouth is a squeak, a wheezing little sound that has him turning.

You wish he didn't turn. You wish all you saw was the profile of his split face, because as he turns it is no longer possible to recognize him as the young man from before. Except for that beautiful silver hair, cascading over his shoulders, beautiful and grotesque.

His body expands as he turns, and muscles beneath the skin rise as his height gets too tall, his arms grow too numerous, and you can't believe mere moments ago he was simply a quirky good looking stranger who was going to help you solve this traumatic tourist mystery.

It’s not enough that he has too many arms. It's not enough that he has too many teeth, and they are so sharp that you know without thinking that they are going to tear through your flesh and rip it like well-braised beef.

There is something underneath his skin. It was there before, and it’s there now, only you’re closer–and still–and its presence is not some shock to the system but a confirmation of an earlier, terrible scene.

Oh, yes, there is something under his skin, and it does not stay still. You can see it moving, like a worm or an alien. Only instead of bursting out of his chest it simply moves, rippling the flesh underneath. Is it separate from him? One and the same? Is this some solitary mass, or are there more–to go with the creature's many arms and many teeth? 

How can this creature be anything but a monster, something other? 

Unless--unless you're looking in his eyes. 

(His, or its? You don’t know, and you never want to find out.)

But those eyes, those eyes are just as pretty and human as they were before.

His human eyes are staring right at you. Your mouth is agape, and you wish you had something other than domesticated teeth designed for chewing and not ripping apart. Because there's nothing you can do in the face of this but run.

You are prey, after all. The rabbit. The deer. The thing that scurries and squeaks. 

So you do run. For the second time in so many hours, you run for your life.

Only now the sun is starting to set, and you are in a completely unfamiliar part of the forest, and you know the monster is real and that it wants you and that it played with you like a cat plays with its food.

Your breath comes out in sharp, short pants. There's something tingling in the adrenaline that courses through your veins, pumping straight from your brain to every extremity, making even the tips of your fingers feel numb and floating. 

It’s like you're high from the fear. 

"Why run?"

The monster calls after you, even as it gives chase. It doesn’t sound as winded now.

And fuck, his voice sounds exactly the same. Why couldn't he sound like a monster? Why couldn't he sound like some guttural beast with no connection to humanity?

Why does he sound like the helpful, if a bit strange, young man who sat with you in the café? Who cheerfully pointed out the spot on the map you ought to go? Who seemed kind, if odd, an unusual character you would surely tell everyone at home about once you got off the plane? 

But the resemblance ends at his voice, at these little things. It ends at the glimmer of silver hair and the too-human eyes that you can no longer see as you try desperately to lose it in the forest. Swerving here and there, stumbling and half-leaping over obstacles, whipping through tree branches that claw at you in the dimming light.

You’re bleeding, you know it. You think the monster knows it, too.

"I like you," the voice says, light and breezy, from behind you. He says it in English and you wish he didn't, because it means he wants you to understand. 

It’s better when you don’t understand the monsters that chase you. 

Your foot trips on something, a branch or a log or the bone of a dead animal, and for the second time today, your body goes sailing through the air. This time, you land on the ground with a thump, half-crumpled. 

You could lie down here. You could lie down and die; let it rip through your throat and hopefully it would kill you quick before consuming your flesh.

But you don't want to. You don't want to die and it's not fair and you're just supposed to be on a nice trip, the end result of an entire year's worth of paid time off accrual. But instead, you're panting and bleeding and being chased by something in the forest that wants to eat you and likes you in what may be equal measure.

So you force your exhausted arms to push up from the ground and you stumble into a run. Pitiful as it is. Pointless as it is. 

Behind you, the creature laughs. Or the young man laughs. You're not sure which is which, or if they were different to begin with.

"I like you," it says again. There's something lighter in its tone now. Or maybe you're imagining it, high on adrenaline and lack of oxygen from all the panting. The tingling in your body hasn’t stopped, even as you stumble forward. 

"I'll keep you," it--he? You don't know, fuck--says. "Always."

The silliest of thoughts worms its way through your fear-addled brain.  Did he learn English just to communicate with you? Did all monsters speak different languages? Or did he shove his face into a tourist phrasebook in between chasing you and finding you in the cafe?

It's this silly thought that sticks in your ear as you go sailing to the ground again. Pushed, maybe. Or maybe you tripped on the bones of a dead fox, its flesh long eaten away by predators then maggots, in that order.

Palms stinging, knees burning. Blood bubbling through a tear in your trousers--cut on a sharp branch, you think. 

Your thigh aches.

Your lungs ache. 

Your chest aches.

Behind you, there is only the forest-noise of the monster chasing you. Arms and legs and the presence of it, pushing through branches and bushes like nothing. It could kill you like nothing, too. Maybe there are claws at the end of those hands, too many hands and too many fingers, and the world makes no more sense than it did a few hours ago.

Still, you don't want to die. Not here, not like this. So you push up with your burning, aching arms, and force yourself into a wobbling, weak standing position. 

It halts when you stand. You don't turn to see, you don’t even register the cessation of the rush of brush and bramble--you just know. 

One step forward, on wobbling legs. Legs that can’t run anymore, no matter what is chasing you.

“Oh,” says the monster. A soft, sweet sound.

Another step forward, and your knees buckle underneath you. Down you go. 

“Oh,” it says again. You do register the lack of sound, now. Nothing but distant insects (you wish they were closer) and your own breathing, and a sort of rustling as the monster approaches you from behind. 

”Cute,” it says. And oh, now, you can imagine its wide mouth, all those teeth, cradling the word like soft candy. 

You stare, barely able to support your body on your arms, at the ground underneath you. This will be the last thing you see, you think. At least it’s kind of pretty--nature. Green and brown and there’s life here, some insects meandering along underneath you, uncaring as to whatever is going on up above. 

Maybe they’ll get to eat what’s left of your body, when he’s finished. The circle of life, and all that. 

But it won’t be the last thing you see. Because you’re turning--no, you’re being turned, four or five or six arms on you, cradling you in a sickeningly gentle way even as your weakened muscles strain against their hold.

Your lungs strain and your breath comes out in short, terrible pants. The soft, sad acceptance is a lot harder to keep up when you’re facing death head-on. 

The last thing you’ll see will be this monster, above you, silver hair almost shimmering in the dimmed light of the forest. His mouth too wide, his limbs and teeth and scars too many, his human eyes boring into you with a glinting fascination. A sickly sweet sort of affection. 

That something is still underneath the skin, too. Rippling. Like a tick burrowed underneath the flesh, straining, wanting to get out but being unable to do so. 

His stretched mouth opens and there are so many fangs--you imagine the pain--imagine the teeth boring down into your chest or your neck, the tearing of your flesh. 

But that isn’t how you die; that isn’t how he eats you.

Instead--instead--his mouth opens wide and you hear the grinding of flesh as he teeth retract further into his mouth, leaving only a gaping dark hole staring down at you. Above it, his nose, distorted; above that, those eyes, still human, still searching your gaze as he leans forward and your body is gently cradled into the open mouth and pushed down into the tight cavern of his throat.

He swallows you down, and pushes you forward into his throat, down his gullet, onward and onward. There are brief glimpses of the world outside just before you enter his mouth, and then everything goes dark.

But not because you’re dead. Oh, if only you were dead. Instead, you are alive–you are inside.

It’s wet, inside. Wet and warm, like an inside should be. But there’s a wrongness to it all. You were never meant to be pushed down a gullet, to be surrounded by this pulsating warm darkness that slickened your skin even as your mind began to constrict along with your lungs.

Too tight. Too warm. Too many limbs--and despite all those teeth, they did nothing to ease your passing, to tear through your arteries and let you bleed out before you were swallowed up. 

You were swallowed whole, instead. Like Jonah and the whale. Like Pinnochio. Like other characters in other stories, and you can’t think of them now, with the buzz in your brain getting both louder and weaker all at the same time.

You don’t want to die–and not like this; the buzz in your brain constricts, something primal, telling you to GET.OUT.

And you try. You really do try, through pure instinct alone. An instinct you didn’t know you had until you were in this forest, inside of this beast. That animal instinct to free yourself from the jaws, the very stomach, of death.

Your arms, pressed up against your side by the pressure of the moist muscles around you, begin to flail. Your legs, too, constricted by the space you’re in–but moving. Squirming and kicking, trying to get some sort of purchase inside your living prison.

Strange, dim thoughts come as your body begins to squirm. They are the only thing keeping you human, separating you from the mouse clawing from inside a snake.

The thoughts–Being in here is like the time you wrapped yourself up in a sleeping bag and got stuck; being in here is like the first time you went down the tube slide at the playground as an adult, drunk at midnight, and almost got stuck.

Being in here is like all those times you thought you were going to suffocate inside something tight and warm and wrong–only this time, there is no triumphant roll as the sleeping bag unwraps, no sigh of relief as you wiggle your body back up the slide to freedom

There is only the wetness and warmness and the feeling of the monster around you. He hums–oh God, you can feel him humming, feel the way his body rumbles. He says something, too, you think. Something with a cadence that you’re so glad you can’t understand.

You have to get out. You have to get out, damn it. 

There’s a sick sort of rhythm to it, and while your mind recoils from the slick feeling against your skin as you begin to trash, it also gives you hope. This is how you get out, how you get free. Somehow, squirming inside the beast that’s swallowed you–you’ll survive. 

If only you could move more. If you could raise your arms and claw at the warm, wet interior, it might hurt enough to let you go. Throw you up or spit you out or maybe you could burrow your fingers so deep it rips the beast’s flesh open, like a bear gutting a salmon.

A salmon is perhaps what you most resemble now as your thrashing becomes a spasm, reflexive, increasingly jerky as the oxygen in your lungs begins to dwindle. 

Get-out-get-out-get-out, your mind screams.

Your body does its best. Your breath comes shallow now, panting loud inside the tight space and its moving, living walls. It’s all too moist, too hot, too wrong.

Warm, damp limbs jerk and kick and get nowhere in particular for their troubles. The moving walls against you constrict and release, slowly, and you find your thrashing only helps move you down further.

Further into the body of the beast. Further away from the world outside, further away from everything that made you a living breathing tourist just looking for a pretty mountain trail to explore and winding up eaten alive for their troubles. 

It was just an hour or so ago, wasn’t it, that you were sitting in the cafe? It seems like a lifetime, a distant memory, a dream. You cry out, the sound all warbled and wrong inside the tight cavern of his body. 

You want out–you want to go home–but there’s nothing you can do but trash again, soft, bleating sounds pushing out of your increasingly constricted lungs. 

“Oh.”

The monster speaks again, and the rumbling against you is softer, somehow. Cooing and low. And oh, Jesus–you feel him now. Feel his hands on the outside of what must be his belly, where you’ve wormed your way towards with every thrash.

The press of his hands against his skin from the outside is nearly unbearable, sending the wet-hot interior of the inside pressing against your cheek, smearing something slick against your skin, against your eye.

It stings against your lashes and you can’t see, can’t move your hands up enough to properly wipe it away. It makes you jerk again, makes your breath come in tighter, faster, less thoughtful and closer and closer to pure instinct.

Thoughts don’t come as easily. There’s only that desire to get out, to break free, to get away from the wet heat that surrounds you. There’s more slickness now, and a strange sort of acrid scent. A bitter, acidic scent in the air that stings your nostrils. 

He presses against his belly again and you wail, and he coos, and there’s hardly any space left for you to thrash but you try as best you can.

One.

Two.

Three more times.

And then the world gets too woozy, too hazy. You can’t breathe in here. You can’t move, really, aside from the way your limbs still twitch on instinct. You can’t see, and the sounds are only the strange rushing, the warbled noises from the beast that are hard to distinguish. 

The last thing you can sense with any sort of human distinctness is another side, slick and slithering, the sound of something inside the beast with you–oh God, you are not alone in here–and this last thought is when you stop being a person. When the thoughts cease to come as distinct lines from your brain and turn into a low, humming, dying thing.

The twitches that send your body spasming are not that of a person trying to escape, but of prey, finally subdued. 

Undoubtedly, you were once a human being. A person who grew up and imagined a future, some distant thing you couldn’t conceive as a child but which grew more concrete with every passing year. Someone who wanted a girlfriend or boyfriend, and eventually got one. Someone who thought, yeah, maybe kids, some day, if you adopted. 

Who imagined going to school and getting a job that paid decently enough; who did just that, working your ass off, spending all nighters drinking shitty dorm coffee before examples. All to get a degree to get an internship to get a desk job, so you could take nice vacations like this one, where you saved for a year and submitted your time-off request 6 months in advance and everyone at work told you to have fun and take plenty of pictures.

You were a person with hopes and dreams, with a family, with a past, with memories both clear and fuzzy. Sitting on the beach as a child and getting pinched by a crab you tried to place on top of your sand castle. Pushing another kid off the swing when he refused to give you a turn. Coming out to your parents and your dad making a joke about father-son fishing trips and your mom laughing too loud because she didn’t know what to say about having a daughter and now having a son.

All of that, and so much more besides--all of that and everything you ever were, everything you are, everything you will now never ever be, is lost inside a warm void of a body, a slithering, living cavity.

There’s no buzz in your brain now, no lungs to draw in desperate sucks of air. Nothing to register the monster sprawling out on the forest floor, satiated, thinking of how pretty you looked when you ran and the warm, full with the feeling of you inside him now.

He’ll rest here, dappled sunlight warming his skin, letting you digest; breaking you down with acid, absorbing your nutrients into his own body. 

And you? 

You’re dead and gone and there’s no comfort in knowing that Mahito will think of you for a long while, even after you’ve been digested. You were such nice prey, after all. 

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 53 Fear Posting

Hello, kind internet void. What a chapter, huh? Not much to say other than I need someone to heal Chihiro's pain pronto.

That's a lie, of course- there's always a yapfest from me. Thanks for tolerating my nonsense as usual.

Hiruhiko Gets Fucked

Ch. 49

Ch. 53

How it started vs. how it's going for our playful psychopath foil

I loved this moment. Instead of shaking the protagonist and making him question himself, Hiruhiko's trolling just shows us that Chihiro is already well aware of how people see him.

Hiruhiko tried to call a bluff with the ol' reliable "I'm just like you" to make the MC question everything he's done, but it backfired in a huge way. He should have been paying attention since the start:

Chs. 1 & 6

Chihiro wasn't just being edgy in these moments early on, Mr. Discount Mahito.

I enjoy when the author has the protagonist confront that they really aren't so different from their sworn enemies. When done well, it helps the character clarify their moral stance and adds depth as they incorporate some of their enemy's ideals into their own worldview. But Sojo already forced Chihiro to do this. So what value would Hiruhiko doing the same have? Is it different just because they're close in age and Hiruhiko said he already understood Chihiro?

Nope. The meaning comes from Hiruhiko posing a different question.

Sojo asked: who gets to have the final say over Kunishige's intent? The answer Chihiro came to is: the one who's willing to go the farthest to fight for their vision.

Hiruhiko asked: are you aware of how evil you appear to be by going so far? Chihiro answers that he is, and always has been.

I'm really pleased with this turn of events! The flippant piece of shit doesn't get to waltz in and completely upend the protagonist's worldview by pointing out that he's killing people for once. Instead, we get an amazing inversion of the scenario that makes me want to cry for Chihiro. I trusted Hokazono-sensei to do a crisis of conscience arc well but this is a much better outcome IMO. It's never too late to try and exploit a character's cognitive dissonance between their beliefs and actions, so good try Hiruhiko. You just tried to fuck with the wrong traumatized MC. Enjoy being two arms lighter for the next few chapters.

Seriously though, fuck Hiruhiko. I appreciate his role in the narrative and I'm looking forward to what he does next, but he's kind of on the same level as Soya for me. I will cheer his death and not mourn one bit when we move on from him for good.

But we shouldn't be glad when people are killed, should we?

On Death and Killing Intent

This chapter had many jaw-dropping action moments but they're all so sad.

In my Chapter 51 post, I went on a bit of a tangent about how the adult cast all seem to have a heavy burden that they're using to try and steer the younger generation. Samura, Shiba, Kunishige, and Uruha all reject the idea of being "heroes" and the first three are shown to be reluctant to take lives if they can help it. Because killing is a wrongful act that leads one to hell. Doesn't matter what one's intentions are- taking a life is an act of evil. The adults didn't want the younger generation to revere them or try to follow in their footsteps.

But Chihiro chose to do so anyway, and he's taken their mindset to heart to help himself commit to the bit.

Doesn't matter that Chihiro tanked all of Hiruhiko's attacks to let the audience escape. Doesn't matter that he held back to avoid accidental casualties. Doesn't matter that he's ridding the world of the Hishaku's evil. He's a killer - a monster- that's going to hell. And he's resigned to it. He doesn't even have the excuse of saving lives or fighting a war to hide behind- he's steeping himself in sin for selfish reasons.

I was wrong about Samura having to teach Chihiro how to buckle down despite knowing he's walking the path to hell- Chihiro can already do it. So Hiruhiko was right. They're both drenched in blood with no chance for redemption. But that wasn't what Chihiro was pissed about last chapter. It was Hiruhiko assuming their reasoning for killing as being the same that got to him.

Chihiro doesn't find pleasure in killing someone, obviously. Not even Sojo, who was an objectively evil child torturer that wanted to use Kunishige's works to massacre innocents. But when Chihiro's alone against true evil, like his fights against Sojo and Hiruhiko, he goes full-on villain mode to meet them where they are. He's walking straight to hell and doesn't care about how it makes him look when the people he cares about aren't there to see him at his worst.

I posted a little bit about how loved Chihiro is even if he won't let himself realize or accept it, and it's true more than ever now. Chihiro's not a good guy. We shouldn't be thinking he's a purely wholesome person. But he's a damn sympathetic protagonist who is in a truly unbearable amount of pain, and I want him to just... let himself cry or something.

We don't mind that he's a murderer since we see him focus on doing what good he can, like taking detours for abused orphans and risking his life to save helpless captives. He's not the same as the vile scum he kills. Chihiro, though... "All scum go to hell!" is one of the earliest taglines of the series. Pretty sure he would apply this to himself, too. He's in a self-destructive spiral and we're just now seeing how far gone his mental state is.

What's that saying... the road to hell is paved with good intentions?

Chihiro and Samura

Seems like Kunishige was (or could have been) quite the warrior himself based on Shiba's comment... putting a pin in that.

Samura's got a ton of death flags, sorry to say. He's just scooping them up and dumping them all over himself. Not gonna stake my life on this or anything but Tobimune is probably going to be usable by the Hishaku somewhat soon... I hope Chihiro gets to reunite with him one last time before that happens though. Surely next chapter is where the gang gets back together...? Hakuri will probably teleport Chihiro to the temple once he's recovered, so it'll just be a matter of Chihiro getting Hiruhiko to talk enough before that happens.

Not that the type of food has deep symbolic meaning, but Chihiro and Samura are sharing traditional tea snacks; probably higashi (干菓子) of the rakugan variety. They're extremely dry and sweet, so I doubt Chihiro enjoyed them- is that why they're untouched? Maybe Chihiro wasn't actually willing to stop looking at Samura as a hero despite what he said? I don't want to make guesses about the meaning of the food being uneaten. I've been too fried by IRL stress to have much time to think about fun stuff lately. Just know that this is another food=connection/understanding moment that's a bit strained instead of comfortable. (Hakuri's still the only person we've seen Chihiro willingly accept an offer of food from and actually eat... hm.)

No wonder Chihiro considers himself a monster if a "hero" like Samura talks about himself like one. Noble beliefs (hi, Hiyuki!) don't shield you from the horror that lurks in your conscience. It's really respectable of Samura to be so blunt about the reality of what he did and try to steer away Chihiro from admiring him, but the consequences we see now are...

None of them could have known that Chihiro would end up like this a little over three years later (hopefully). He took the lesson of "killing=monstrous" to heart a little too well, sadly... so who can help him break that mindset? Assuming the author wants to say that Chihiro's not the villain he thinks he is, at least. Which is reasonable. He might not be a hero, but he's not truly a monster either.

It depends on who else knows about how he's faring and if Chihiro will let anyone in to help. Keep close tabs on how he interacts with Hakuri and Hiyuki, IMO. One or both of them will probably be the key to him at least stabilizing his metaphorical descent into darkness. Even if they can't pull him out, they can walk through hell at his side.

Hakuri's more than willing to do this already- I wouldn't be at all surprised if he considers staying with Chihiro to be the best part of his life so far, despite all the hardships that he will face. He was already in hell when they met and Chihiro helped pull him out of it. Hiyuki's the bigger question since we hardly know anything about her right now. Her faith in Chihiro as someone who only kills bad guys is important, though. As of this chapter, I can see her helping him out if she believes it's the morally right thing to do.

Spaghetti Queen Thoughts

I'm a little surprised we've left Hiyuki behind for most of the arc to this point, so I do wonder where she'll factor in and how much.

She's set up to be just as important as Hakuri was during the Rakuzaichi arc thanks to her strong ties to the Kamunabi. And there are issues with her that are completely unexplored; namely, her convictions clashing with how the Kamunabi operates. Maybe we'll see her again with the other two bearers? Or when things shift back to Kamunabi HQ for the blood test reveal and such?

I wonder how she'll be motivating Chihiro. They squabble like siblings already; she's the only one who genuinely gets under his skin (which is very cute if you ask me). Both of them are headstrong and idealistic, but Hiyuki doesn't seem to be down on herself and what she does nearly as much as Chihiro is. So maybe that'll be the angle... hard to say when there are so many unknowns, so obviously she needs to come back ASAP to give us more insight!

Thanks for letting me ramble, kind void... see you next week if I make it there.

[morganitering]

Survive the Night (Mahito x fem!reader)

Warnings: Non-con/Rape, Graphic Depictions of violence

Contains: Smut, PWP, PIV - penis in vagina sex, degradation, psychological/emotional manipulation, face-fucking, threats of violence, fuck or die, sexist language, reader is into it lowkey

Word count: 5,1k

Summary: You had readied yourself for a party with your best friend, only to find Shibuya in a disarray, and yourself caught up in a war that wasn’t yours. Somehow escaping the monsters, you end up running into the lap of another kind of predator - an intelligent one.

A/N: Hey hey, this is my first fic and first smut! And ofc, I started with the most degenerate bs I could do. I don't even simp Mahito, but my bestie is down bad and what type of friend I'd be if I didn't help them out. English isn't my first language and no beta. Be aware of the warnings, they are there for a reason. Otherwise enjoy and feel free to like and comment <3!

Read on ao3

It was utter madness. There were screams so chilling that your heart started to ache in an empathetic rhythm, but this was no time to be kind and understanding. It was time to survive and survive you wanted, but your legs refused to move.

You saw people running around like headless chickens, crossing the roads, bumping into each other, as creatures of various sizes and colors roamed the heart of Shibuya, hands and mouths gaping open, reaching to anyone they could. You stood still despite the sheer fear in you.

You looked at your friend, cold sweat forming on your brow as you assessed the situation. Her golden wig falling on the ground in the force of a purple hand grabbing her. She cried out to you. Her Sailor Moon wand replica fell to the asphalt with her other belongings. You had a good bit of distance between the two of you since you tried to run over the crossing road in a hurry towards KFC.

The purple hand squeezed remorselessly. You could see it in her face, the sound of little crackling of her rib cage turning to bits and pieces inside her body, puncturing every vital organ one by one.The hand kept on squeezing, probably not even using force. The creature dropped your friend’s body next to her items. She was disfigured and limp like a soggy rag doll. You had seen death once after losing your grandparents, but this was no peaceful death due to old age, this was a god forsaken massacre.

It was supposed to be a fun night out. You hadn’t dressed up in anything special, but you wanted to support your friend so you had gone to her place, a few hours prior ending up going outside, hoping for the warm buzz of alcohol in your veins and maybe, if you were lucky, a lover you could regret in the morning.

But in all honesty, this was a script from a horror movie. You had always joked with your friend how you both would be the first ones to die in one, but neither of you had been serious about it.

“Fucking move!” You heard a man yelling, snapping you out of your trance. The purple creature’s multiple eyes were all looking in different directions in search of another victim.

You did what the stranger told you to.

Your body pumped out adrenaline forcing your limbs to finally move with strength you did not recognize in yourself. You started running as fast as your legs could take you, neon lights of advertisements flashed on your face as blood of other party goers covered you as they were snapped open, ripped in half, guts and viscera leaking on the ground. Puddles of blood splashed on your calves when the soles of your boots hit the ground. You were just livestock running away from the butcher in a small room, knowing full well that there was no escape.

Metallic taste popped in your mouth as you evaded monsters and people alike. Some folks were brave enough to fight against the creatures of the night. You were not one of them.

You took a turn on the left. An alley behind some type of shady restaurant. You noted that somehow the screams had quieted down. Your breath came out at an uneven pace as your lungs fought for their life to give enough oxygen to your struggling body.

You leaned on the brick wall, heart beating in every part of your body utter exhaustion knocking on the door. Instead of collapsing you just trembled. This is not real. This is not real. This is not- a sob interrupted your frantic mind.

Searching for the source of the sound your eyes adjusted to the dimly lit alleyway locating a hunched over figure. A man? He cried heavily, rocking himself back and forth on the dirty ground as his hands fisted the black fabric of his trousers. He was sitting next to a dumpster that was filled to the brim with plastic bags almost not being able to contain the multitude of waste. In hindsight you probably should’ve left the man on his own to tend to the trash.

You assumed him to be a victim of the attack too. Or maybe he was just drunk, you told yourself with suspicion in your mind.

“Sir? Are you ok?” You asked as you got closer to the sobbing man. It seemed like he didn’t even notice you, he just kept shaking and muttering to himself in between sobs. You were fairly sure that he knew you were there and since there was no answer you decided to attempt consoling him.

You dropped down on his level and stroked his arm gently. You weren’t the best at this type of stuff, but you felt pity towards the blue haired stranger wallowing in his thoughts. Suddenly you felt his arms stretching around you holding onto you like a child embracing their favorite toy during duress.

Panic seeped into you. You didn’t know this man at all, but you figured that he needed this and honestly maybe you did need it too. Awkwardly you placed your hand on his head, your blouse getting wet from the stranger’s snot and tears. His hair was luscious and soft, in a different situation you might have even been jealous.

“It’s going to be.. okay?” That was honestly the best you could do in your state of shock. There was a weird sort of kinship in his breakdown. Had you not been still full of fight or flight reaction you would probably be in the same situation as he was. Instead you felt calm as a day almost clear headed.

Bit by bit he collected his demeanor. His shoulders still shook, but it no longer felt like he was a spare leaf in a summer storm.

“I know a place,” he said, head still against your chest. You heard him but you were confused by his words.

“What?”

He raised his head now looking at you with his mismatched eyes. His face was full of stitch patterns as if he had been broken down and put together multiple times. You soon noticed him having that on his arms as well.

“Sorry, I meant that I know a place. I don’t think we are safe on the streets yet,” he said sniffling pathetically.

“You’re probably right. Where is it?” You asked.

Patch faced man stood up and offered his hand towards you which you gladly took and pushed yourself off from the asphalt. Having been in this place longer now, you really did not want to spend the last moments of your life next to the smell of biowaste and piss.

You walked behind the man who took determined steps towards the main street that was completely empty.

“Sorry I probably gave you a big scare,” he brushed his hands through his hair, swaying a few sections of almost ponytailed hair to the other side of his shoulder.

You wanted to say that there was no bigger scare, than the stuff that went down in the heart of Shibuya. A crying weird dude was a welcome change to the horrors, but you stayed quiet.

“My name is Mahito. Thank you for being there for me,” he smiled gently at you. You tried to return his smile as you told him your name.

“I like your name,” his tone was easy going and friendly.

“Here,” he pointed at an empty restaurant a few blocks further away from the alley.

The restaurant was still lit up, but completely empty. Its decor was homely and somehow very industrial. The lighting was warm and yellow with few pink-ish tints on the brick wall with a statement piece made out of pipes and lightbulbs. Overall it looked like a hipster’s favorite lunch place.

Some of the tables had half drunk beverages and meals. There were some spots where tableware had dropped on the floor and pieces of porcelain lay on the ground with napkins soaking into cream sauce.

Mahito found you both a clean booth and sat you down there as he sauntered over to the restaurant bar. You looked at him in confusion as he grabbed two clean glasses pouring soda from the soft drink dispenser.

“No harm in drinking something sweet after all this, right?” He said trying to smile again, yet it did not really reach his eyes. He seemed awfully cheery for a person that you had found crying just moments ago. It was as if he was wearing a mask. Maybe it’s a shock reaction, you intellectualized his behavior to yourself.

Mahito placed the drink in front of you as he sat next to you on the booth. You were squished between him and the restaurant window with nowhere to go. You hadn’t really noticed how big he was until now. You took a sip from the sweet drink looking at the bubbles that were forming on top of the dark liquid.

“So what happened to you?” You asked him, curiosity taking the best of you.

“I-,” he started confidently but quickly stopped. Mahito looked down at his hands that were placed on the cold table. You saw sadness on him.

“I watched how my friends died," he said quietly. “It was horrible. We were supposed to go to our favorite club. They were supposed to have some type of costume competition,” he explained.

“What are you supposed to be? It looks neat though, really real.” Maybe you tried to lighten the mood or maybe you were just really socially inept.

“Thanks, but uh, I’m not really supposed to be anything. I just learnt to play around with some sfx makeup. My big sis taught me,” he reminisced.

“I hope she’s not here too.”

You both fell silent, whether it was awkward or kind of nice you couldn’t decide. You had not even thought about your other friends that might have been stuck in the area as well. If there were any gods left you would make sure to pray to them every day were you to survive this hell of a night.

“I saw my friend dying too, by those monsters,” you said, sharing your own story.

“Really? What was it like?” His face seemed to light up in awe and as he did that you raised your eyebrow in slight annoyance.

“Sorry, that came out wrong. I just. I don’t know. It all happened so fast,” he quieted down again, seeming regretful of his words.

“Disgusting,” you said, not addressing his apology.

Mahito’s eyes were now on you staring at you like a hawk. You didn’t really notice that as your eyes seemed almost glassy looking at nowhere in particular.

“She had spilt her guts onto the street,” you choked out the words as the picture of your friends dead body stayed on your mind like a thistle.

“Was there a lot of blood?” You felt the warm breath on your cheek, but you were so deep in your mind that only displayed the picture of the hand closing on your friend. You saw her eyes again, her mouth open in a shrilling scream that almost got drowned in the other voices, but to you it was almost amplified, it was the only scream that really mattered. You saw the blood that she coughed up as her own body got crushed and what was meant to protect her and hold her upright punctured her to death.

“Yes.” It was just a whisper of a voice. A tear fell down on your lap and your lips were slightly parted, your body shuddering at the horrible memories. Mahito’s face was now nuzzled in your neck and his eyes were half lidded with a slight smile decorating his face.

“You poor thing,” he cooed. “I’m sorry”, something about his words did not feel sincere at all. The blue haired man’s body started shaking and you heard the most absurd sound that returned you to this moment. You knew you had not said anything funny, so why was he laughing?

Mahito was almost doubled over as he roared next to you. He started clapping his hands like this was the best thing he had heard in the century. He opened his eyes that were now watering from all the laughing and placed his hand on your shoulder.

“You humans are truly pathetic!” He kept on giggling. You pushed his hand off from your shoulder, your mind still in disarray trying to grasp the things he was saying. His words hurt you and it felt unbelievable that this is the way he would react since he had lost someone too or was his sob story a lie? Part of you wanted to curse at him, but some part of you, supposedly the sane one, told you to tuck your head down.

“Oh noo, my little friend had spilt her guts onto the street. Oh woe me! I saaw someone diiiee.” Mahito drew out every syllable as he was mocking you and your tone, making exaggerated sad expressions and he brought his fists to his cheeks to make a boo-hoo movement.

“You idiots die all the time.” Mahito’s face turned serious as he sneered at you. His mismatched gaze steeled on you as he stared you down saying nothing for the time being.

Every alarm was blaring in your mind. Time felt like it was stopping just like it did during the attack. Mahito no longer looked like the almost boyish lost figure that you had found having a panic attack. Now he reminded you of a crazed beast toying with its food and you weren’t about to stay to find out how far his unhinged behavior could go. You had to take your chance of leaving.

You pushed the table with all your might as you took hurried steps out of the booth quickly giving thanks to whoever had decided to not to nail the furniture on the ground permanently. Glasses of soft drink toppled over and rolled to the floor and shattered into hundred little pieces as you hopped clumsily over the crazy man’s body.

“Nuh-uh-uh,” Mahito grabbed your wrist, his nails tugging into your flesh painfully. He had now stood up and was towering over you with an unreadable face.

A faint smile appeared on his face and he looked almost gentle again.

“I’m not going to kill you,” his voice was smooth like one of the finest silk.

“Look- I’m sorry for you and whatever happened to you, but this clearly was a mistake. I hope you have a goo-”

“Shut up.”

Mahito inhaled as if he was smelling the most appetizing meal, relishing in the lack of your voice.

“Much better.”

He was still holding onto you as he raised his free hand on your face to caress your cheek in an attempt to calm you down. Guess it was his turn to be in this role, although at least you had been sincere about it.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Mahito repeated, his eyes trailing down to your lips.

“I do have something else in mind,” he said, taking his gaze back to your eyes.

You gulped audibly and managed to squeak out a question of what he had in mind then. You knew already. Of course you did.

“This theme of death and destruction. It reeaally has got me worked up,” Mahito monologues on.

“I might be a curse, but I’m not beyond needs. I am interested in the human soul and its weaknesses as well as its wickedness,” he kept talking as his thumb started to trail down slowly towards your jawline “but I’m also interested in this”, his hand stopped at your throat.

His touch was feather light and had it not been this psychopath of a man touching you you’d gladly welcome it. Mahito’s words didn’t make a lot of sense to you, but you got the gist of it with threats and all.

“You can choose to fight me.”

He now had his whole palm on your oesophagus, his mismatched eyes shining dangerously.

“But you will lose.”

Mahito squeezed gently as a warning and let go of the wrist he was holding. He grabbed you by your scalp, bunching up some of your hair to tilt your head upwards.

“Do this with me and I’ll let you live. Maybe you even have a good time as well, or maybe I don’t care for your comfort at all and I’ll ditch you to the streets half dead with your panties tangled up in your ankles for the whole world to see your shame,” he blabbered on and stopped. He looked like he was thinking about something really important, pursing his lips together, tipping his head side to side like a cartoon character.

“I haven’t really decided yet,” his voice was sinister.

Your body had gone cold. Do this and he’ll let me live, you thought to yourself fighting the urge to flee. You didn’t want to anger him further, not that there was any winning chance with this man at all. Everything had gone the way he wanted from the moment you had laid your eyes on him.

“Okay, I want to live,” you rasped out.

Mahito looked content, almost affectionate. ”They always do.”

After those words the world turned into a haze. His lips were soft and plump. He was a demanding kisser, not that you even had imagined him to be a kisser in the first place. You thought that you would be simply bent over, but Mahito proved you wrong. Not because he cared, but because he simply did what he wanted to and this was what he desired.

He might have promised you pleasure, if you agreed to do this somewhat willingly but his soul was tainted, and you knew that were you to find enjoyment under him, it would be just a happy surprise to you.

His tongue delved into your mouth. It felt gross. Invading. His hands had moved to your waist going all the way down to your ass squeezing too hard to your liking. He swiftly lifted you up and placed you on the now dirty table where you had been hanging out just moments prior. His boots made crackling sounds as he stepped on the pieces of glass.

You felt sticky as the cola seeped onto your skirt’s fabric but Mahito did not seem to care. He pulled your hair, exposed your neck and bit as his other hand groped your breasts with force bordering on pure pain. Tears were forming in your eyes as your body and mind fought each other.

“You know you should feel special,” his breath felt hot against your neck. “Not everyone is able to see me, let alone touch me”

“Yet here you are.” He pressed his tongue on your cheek and licked away the one spare tear.

He ripped open your blouse cold breeze kissing your torso, before Mahito’s hands were on it. He grabbed your bra, stretching out the fabric with both of his hands until it snapped. He threw the remnants of your underwear on the ground placing his palms on your bare chest. He played and kneaded the tender flesh, arousal waking up in your core.

Mahito pulled you closer to him, your skirt hiking up till your hips with the fabric pressing on your skin, leaving you feeling uncomfortable. You felt him against your clothed sex, only his trousers, your stockings and panties between the two of you. Your breath hitched and his eyes darkened even more.

“I like this look on you humans, when you feel conflicted as to what to feel,” he teased you with shadows dancing on his face as the overhead light got covered by his head.

“He’s a bad man, he’s a crazy man, but why oh why do I like it?” His voice got higher as he imitated a feminine voice, playing up the caricature of a woman.

He pressed his hand between your legs, swiping slowly up feeling the moisture that had gathered there.

“Case in point,” he grinned satisfied. His fingers stopped at the sensitive bud and he started making slow circles looking intently at your face savoring every micro expression as you involuntarily bucked your hips up.

Your cheeks were burning up as small moans escaped your lips. You fought with yourself, tears threatening to spill over as your body moved on its own. What would your friend think if she saw you like this? She had suffered the most tragic death and this man had mocked you in the middle of a crisis and now you were enjoying his attention.

It was as if Mahito knew what buttons to press to get you going. You closed your eyes as you panicked under his touch. He applied more pressure on you as you helplessly grabbed the side of the table. Mahito’s grin widened the stitches on his face stretching out.

“Any self respecting woman would have run by now, even if it meant that they’d get killed in the process, yet you chose to spread your legs wide open to me,” he mused as he continued playing with you.

“You really must want me!” He let out a cold chuckle. Everything he said and did felt like an amateur theater student’s performance. He loved excess, big movements, big emotions - he was like a chaos incarnate. Insane, you thought to yourself, that’s what he was.

His fingers traveled on your panties over to the spot where he reckoned your entrance was and pressed lightly inside leaving a wet mark on the fabric.

He snaked his hands under your stockings waistband and started pulling them down with your panties. The only clothes you had on yourself were the buttonless blouse and a miniskirt that hid nothing. Mahito opened his trouser’s zipper and pulled himself out, giving a few languid pumps to his length.

“What do you say, you show me how much you want me and we’ll see how wet you can get when you service me?” He proposed already dragging you off the table and pushing you towards his cock.

You lost your balance and both your knees and an arm pressed on the glass shards on the stone floor as you tried to not to fall on your face. You winced from pain and you saw blood trickling down as Mahito laughed at your discomfort. Thankfully the pieces were not very big and they’d only leave a surface level wound but it still didn’t lessen the pain.

“Say aah!” Mahito grabbed your chin pushing his cock on your lips, smearing himself over your face.

You took him in your mouth hesitantly, a slightly salty tasty spread on your tongue. Unlike you, he did not hesitate and quickly snapped his hips forward setting up a brutal pace. You tried to be careful of your teeth as Mahito’s hands found themselves in your scalp.

It was hard to breathe, drops of saliva dripping on your chin and bare chest. All you could do was gurgling pathetically at his assault.

Mahito’s grip on your hair tightened as he hummed and moaned happily, an expression of pleasure on his wicked features. His voice got loud, unashamed of the way he was sloppily face fucking you. His sounds did something sinful to you, sending sparks straight to your core. It was a losing war you were fighting and Mahito reveled in it. You moved your own hand into your folds in a desperate attempt to relieve the burn in you earning genuine laughter from the man.

“Now we are talking, you’re getting into this aren’t you?”

Mahito pushed you towards his pelvis forcing himself down your throat, your nose pressing onto his skin. You were choking and your body involuntarily thrashed around him, but he kept you firmly in place.

“Relax, keep it there,” his voice was out of breath as you spasmed around him helplessly. You tried to bear it, but every passing second proved your task harder. You squeezed your eyes shut feeling the trails of mascara in various stages of drying on your cheeks.

Mahito pulled himself out with a loud groan. You were gasping for air as violent coughs shook your frame, his cock still standing in front of you in all its glory.

“You’ve got a splendid mouth, but right now I’m craving your cunt.”

There were no breaks for you as he manhandled you up and pushed your torso against the table. Your tits pressed against the cold wood, your hips pressing on the sides of the table. You felt messy, degraded even, as your slightly wet face came in contact with the surface.

Mahito started pushing in you carefully and you gasped, when you felt him widening you forcing you to make space for him.

“W-what about protection?” You talked for the first time.

“Not on the pill, eh? Well don’t worry your pretty head about it, it wouldn’t work anyways,” he said and sheathed himself fully in you.

Then it began. Skin against skin, noises of pleasure filled the empty restaurant leaving only your ever increasing cries reverberating in the establishment. His hips kept snapping onto yours, chest heaving as he panted and moaned. You loved the sounds that you both made your cunt tightening around him when an especially beautiful whine left his mouth.

You cried out loud when he found that one spot inside of you after one particularly powerful thrust. Your brows furrowed, hands seeking a place to hold onto as you quietly said his name. You hoped that he wouldn’t notice, but of course he did. Riled up from your reactions he made sure to angle himself so that he’d get to see your further succumb to the decadence of his actions.

His hands trailed towards your neck admiring how your hair was sprawled out messily, some strands sticking to your swollen lips. He massaged your back finally digging his nails into it and scratched it for fun.

“Isn’t that- ah- something”, you tried talking, “I’m supposed to do?” You were referencing his peculiar actions.

“Already thinking of the next position? We’ll see about that,” he jested but his words lacked bite as he pleasured himself using you.

Your back was burning as he kept swiping across leaving pink streaks on your skin. He grabbed your throat and squeezed gently, not trying to restrict the flow of your breath. He had had enough of that for now. It was merely a gesture to show who had the real power here.

You were getting close feeling the familiar coil about to snap. His movements got rougher and more sporadic. He drove into you like a beast, going deep into you at times hitting your cervix. You babbled incoherently, no longer caring for how you appeared, the only thing occupying your mind was the need to sprint to the finish line.

Your thighs trembled as you were on your tiptoes. The table inched forwards every time Mahito drove his cock in you. He was nearing his own end. He placed his fingers on your clit rubbing it haphazardly, partially disregarding how sensitive it was, hoping that this would drive you off the edge.

You didn’t know where pleasure and pain started or ended. They melt together creating one hell of an addicting concoction and you wanted more. Gods, how you did want more, your juices dripping on your thighs. You felt lightheaded and suddenly the sparks turned into a flame that engulfed you, spreading to even the most distant parts of your body.

Mahito fucked you through your orgasm and somewhere in your haze you felt him still when his cock pulsated in you as your body involuntarily returned the favor. Some part of your brain that was still present wanted to push him off, tell him to mark you somewhere else, anywhere else but there.

The blue haired man collected his breathing as relaxation coursed in his body. He pulled himself out of you looking curiously at the spot where you were just connected, delighted when he saw him trickling down your cunt. “Beautiful,” he muttered to himself as he looked at the wreck of a woman in front of him. The woman stayed put, probably too tired to move.

The restaurant door opened and heavy footsteps thumped on the floor.

“Is this really the best usage of your time?” He was disapproving.

Ah Choso, ever the killjoy. Mahito turned around not caring that the man who just came in would see all of him.

“God, put that thing away,”Choso said exasperatedly.

“We’ve been looking for you. Geto’s getting antsy when he doesn’t know our whereabouts,” Choso explained, taking a quick peek at the woman laying against the table not looking one bit more aware of her situation.

You were vaguely conscious, body and mind bruised from the event that just took place. Hands still ghosted over your skin even though you knew that Mahito was not paying attention to you at all. You felt exhausted, so exhausted that you felt yourself slipping to your mind looking for somewhere safe. It was like a dark veil was put on you, your vision blurred looking at the two outlines of men. Who was the other one again?

“Aw, that’s a bummer. I wanted to have more fun,” Mahito said, pouting.

“I think you’ve had enough of that already. Let’s go,” Choso turned his back to the idiot of a curse.

“Goodbye sweetie, try to get into a better position. You’ll break your neck like that,” Mahito addressed you jokingly as the wooden door shut behind them.

Breathing heavily you watched the two men walk outside from the huge windows. Mahito was practically skipping forwards while the dark haired man put his hands in his pockets and shook his head. Muffled laughter reached your ears and you were sure you’d recognize that sound for the rest of your life.

You maneuvered yourself up, body wobbling as if you were training to walk on a tightrope. You stretched out your arms rolling your shoulders to relieve the tension gathered in your tired muscles. You pulled your skirt down and tugged at the remnants of your blouse against your chest in a desperate attempt to cover yourself up.

You looked around the restaurant spotting a low table with couches as the seats. They were too small for an adult to lie down on, but that would do. You fluffed up the pillow and curled up into a ball skin feeling sticky due to all kinds of substances, but that was the least of your problems.

You wondered miserably, did this count as survival. If it did, the gods that let you still draw your breath had a shit sense of humor.

[shapard]

PATHETIC

TrueForm!Sukuna x fem!reader

A/n: Chapter 4 is finally here!

TW: gore, Violence, near death experience

chapter 3

Chapter 4: Nastja

You stood beside the other Maids in Sukuna’s throne room. Your legs were aching from standing three-hours long on the same spot.

Sukuna sat on his throne tapping on the arm rest out of boredom. 

This is new, normally Sukuna would have his way with the other maids either torturing them or fucking them like a rabbit in heat.

You were quite happy that he didn’t find you Interesting enough to share a bed with you.

You’re after all just the Butler, one of few.

You looked around the room hoping it will let the time move faster. You all were nervous. You could feel the fear and tension lingering across the air. 

watching this monster sitting calm on his throne, knowing exactly what he has done and what he is going to do. It made you angry. Oh, you hate him so much. 

He knows it. He knows how much you hate him. He watched you, and made you suffer so many times. It gave him pleasure, a type of pleasure he never tasted in a long time since the last great war. 

He wants more, more of you struggling with him. More of your plea that are heard just by him. It filled his cold heart with pleasure and desire. Desire to destroy more of your white painted world view. 

He got a taste of it and now can’t get enough. 

He tapped on a skull, thinking ways how to play with his little plaything. His eyes darted across the room and landed on you. He finds it amusing how you looked across his throne room with eyes of hate and disgust, it made him chuckle in content. 

The hate towards him and this damned lands, it excites him in every wrong way. His heart ached and clenched with pleasure. He started thinking of ways to turn those eyes of hate into a dark depression, he can’t wait to destroy you completely. 

The image made him licked his lips, as if he could already get a small taste of you and your sadness, anger, and despair. It excites him.

The door opened with a loud bang which echoed through the room. Your both attentions quickly shifted towards the Intruder. 

A young Man stepped forward his hair flowing with the rhythm of the cold air, to your surprise he was almost dancing towards Sukuna. 

He doesn’t look like a monster nor demon. His skin had a greyish undertone and his body had couple of stitches, he was also pretty small compared to Sukuna.

“Sukuna!” He shouted, which surprised you. ‘Do you want to die, little boy?’ You thought, he must be brave to talk to your Master that way. 

Sukuna groaned. 

His bored expression changed into an annoying one.  “Mahito.” He sneered, he’s pretty disgusted by the sight of him. 

“What are you doing here you little imp.” Sukuna popped the p from imp. The guy called Mahito started to laugh, “I went on a Mission, you sent me, and this is the thanks I get?” His tone was playful, but his eyes told a different story.

“I hoped that you’d die on that Mission.” Sukuna bit back, he swayed his hand commanding that you all should leave these two alone. 

Not with another thought you left quickly, it is a gift that you could leave this disgusting room of him. 

Your luck was held short. 

On the way towards your chamber, there was Nastja, great. She leaned on your door looking at her long nails and swayed them from side to side. 

She heard your footsteps and her face shifted towards your direction. “There you are. I’ve waited for you.” You raised your brows, “Never thought that the bitch would ever wait for me.” It was really surprising. You rarely see her in this side of the Castle.

“Don’t you dare to call me the Bitch. I’m not the one who needs help all the time from our Master.” The way she talked to you was pissing you off a little bit, but you got to stay calm. So, you shrugged her off pushing her aside to go to your chamber. 

The Bitch Nastja didn’t even waste a second thought and lunged at you with a feral growl. You both fell on the ground making you grunt at the impact. She targeted your hair and pulled harshly on them. 

Adrenaline pumped through your whole system, your body started to feel hot, and your heart started to beat fast.

Your face turned towards your attacker. You punched her right in the face making her fall back. 

You hissed as your hair was being pulled back at her force. She started to smirk heavily seeing the hurt in your expression. You laughed at her, “Did you really think a little hair tug would seriously injure me?” The question burned in Nastja’s mind, and her smile vanished. 

“You’ll regret that.” Her smirk was back at her annoying face, what did she plan?

Something shiny in her hands caught your attention, 

“A knife?” Her laughing echoed through your room, “Who’s laughing now?” now that’s dangerous, one wrong move and she could damage you very bad. 

She ran towards you swaying the knife wild around without any control nor scheme. She was screaming and her eyes didn’t even show any humanity anymore. And it scared you. 

Frantic you tried to dodge all her attacks, which was hard, sometimes it even broke skin. A cut on your cheek, Arm, or chest. You backed away trying to find a way out, no success. 

“Do you really think you can come here and play an important role? You saw what happened with your dear friend.” She laughed. The knife in her hand targets your neck, you moved away but to late. She sliced deep on the side of your neck. Your leg got stuck between your nightstand and the closet making you fall to the ground.

You tried to stop the bleeding. 

Your hand pressed on the injury on your neck.

Pressing hard. It hurts, so bad. 

Your breathing was hard, and the blood that started to fill your lungs making it hard to breath. 

You coughed blood, trying to get even a whiff of air that was surrounding you two. The blood colored your white carpet in a crimson deep red. 

Nastja’s eyes seemed to be in a panic spell and pleasure. “I did it.” She laughed loud “I fucking did it!” She jumped around, your vision started to get blurry. 

Stay awake, stay awake. 

Your heart ached and tears started to burn their way through your eyes. 

I can’t die here.

 While your attacker was celebrating her success, the knife fell out of her hand, the sound of metal and wood crashing together ringed in your ears. 

The knife. 

It was colored in fresh red, it’s like you can hear the slicing of meat and skin getting sliced into pieces. Everything around you started to blend in each other, everything except the knife. 

The ringing became more Violent making you grasp your head. The unbearable pain of the whispers and ringing makes you want to scream. 

Take….

Shaking your head in despair trying to filter the voices out. “Please stop..” It was a bare whisper. Nastja swung her head to the side, looking at you in rage. “You still can talk...” Her eyes showed rage but also somewhere in those crazy eyes there was pity. 

It indeed was scary and a horrible sight to see you crouching and leaning onto the ground, clutching your head. You were shaking uncontrollable.

Blood started dripping down from your neck and noises of your mere plea rang in Nastja’s ears. 

“Hey! Stop that…” A useless attempt. 

A piercing scream made Nastja shriek. Blood starts to drop out of your mouth, the neck wound showing its effects. 

Your whole body starts to burn and pulsate. 

Take it… 

You wanted it to stop. The iron taste in your mouth made you open your mouth slightly, to get rid of that nasty taste. Make it stop, please. Nastja wanted to run, her mind was screaming at her to move. Regards of all attempts, her body didn’t move. As if she was hypnotized.

Let go…

The burning feeling shifted towards her neck, the pain softly fades away, and everything went black.

…

Your body shifts under the futon, making you aware of how heavy your body feels. It felt like you lifted tons of heavy weight. 

You groaned when you sat up, rubbing your sore eyes. “What happened?” you can’t remember, it was all a messy blurr. Nastja and you were fighting, and then everything went black. “My neck?!” You quickly touched the once Injured neck, realizing that the wound is gone.

“How?”

…

“What happened, Nastja?”  His voice was chilling, making Nastja shake in fear. 

He scoffed. It’s taking way too long of his liking. “She- I-“Sukuna raised his eyebrow, “I’m not a fool imp.” 

Now it was a threat, he was getting impatient. “Master Sukuna, I didn’t say that you’re a fool.” He laughed bitterly, “Then answer my question. What. Happened?” Her breath hitched. “We had a little Disagreement.” She closed her eyes, fearing the backlash. 

“A little?” He laughed, “How can a little disagreement, almost kill somebody.” The sarcasm was spilling in his voice. 

His fist clenched around a bone, making it crack under the force of his merciless hand. 

Nastja hadn’t seen her Sukuna this mad before, why is he so Angry about a bitch? “I’m sorry.” Apologizing, it felt embarrassing. 

She fiddled with the hem of her kimono. 

Crack.

The bone shattered into many pieces, Nastja’s breath hitched out of fear. 

“Your Majesty!” the door sprung open revealing Mahito in all his shine. With a swift movement of his hand the guards took Nastja away into her chamber.

Nastja was more than relieved that the white guy saved her from her misery.

 “What now?” He asked Mahito not very pleased that the man infront of him came back. “I have good news!” Sukuna hums, signaling Mahito to continue. 

“That Woman, Y/n right? She’s awake and it seems that something inside of her starts to awaken. Something not human. If you’d allow us to do more research about this unknown power. We could-“

A zip sound was the only thing Mahito could hear before unbearable pain spread on his Arm. His stare moved from his Master down towards his arm. Or rather where the Arm Should be. 

“You’ll not lay a hand on my little plaything you freak. Let this be a warning.” 

Not human? That will be Interesting.

A/n: Hoped you enjoyed this chapter &lt;3

💫.-

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