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ccwpidsblog · 3 days ago

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White Dress, Black Cat 𖣁 | ONYAKOPON

Summary: They said she was a witch.

She said they were all damned. Onyakopon didn’t believe in hauntings until he heard his own voice tremble at the pulpit. Now every hymn echoes wrong, and she’s waiting for him by the well, knitting as if the world ain’t falling apart. He just wanted to serve God. Now they’re standing hand in hand, watching the damned burn.

Themes: Heavy Religious trauma/themes, family dysfunction, mentions of suicide, miscarriage, mental health struggles, tall blk female reader, plus-sized reader, preacherson!ony, implied supernatural violence, psychological horror, shy!ony, dark themes and atmosphere, small town prejudice, abandonment, slow burn, smut: virginity loss (mc and ony), soft sex/lovemaking, praise kinks, soft dom!ony

Part one | Part two | Part three

Word count: 10.2k

Authors Note: Well obviously I've been really into religious themes and southern gothic themes for some reason and with my religious background it's only fair I vent through my writing lol. This was meant to be a one-shot but yk how I get lol. Very different from the usual Ony fics hope you all enjoy and I don't disappoint 🥺💔

also wanted to thank @thecoochiefairy and @2neaky for unknowingly inspiring me!! I love black love and im happy to see it on tumblr again 🩷 please don't be shy send me an ask and support me on AO3

The night pressed in thick as syrup, and Onyakopon couldn't move.

He lay flat on his back on a threadbare cot in the shotgun house behind the old

sugarcane fields, sweat slicking his brow, heart hammering against ribs that had forgotten how to breathe. The air was too still. No crickets. No frogs. Not even the wind dared stir. Just that weight, heavier than a man, darker than sin, pinning him to the mattress with invisible hands.

Something's whispering in his ear.

He couldn’t understand the words, not exactly. But the voice, it was his father’s. And then not.

His body twitched. Eyes wide, still unable to blink. In the corner of the room, where the shadow refused to dissolve, something crouched. Watching. Waiting. Its eyes were coals, slow-burning.

“Get up,” he told himself. But his jaw wouldn’t work. His tongue felt thick. Roots of a tree growing wild inside his throat.

The thing in the corner inched forward. Crawling on elbows. Grinning too wide.

And then—

A scream tore from his chest. The kind that didn’t sound human.

He sat bolt upright, breath ragged, vision swimming. The shadow was gone. But the smell lingered like hot iron and smoke. Like burnt offerings. Outside, there was a loud crack of thunder as the sky began to pour. The world had moved on. But Onyakopon didn’t.

Not yet.

He scrubbed a hand over his face and stared down at the callouses in his palms.

The tremble in them betrayed him. That was the third one this week. And in every single one, there was always a shadow. Eyes like smoldering coals. A voice that wore his father’s face like a mask. No matter how many scriptures he recited before bed. No matter how often he sang himself hoarse in praise. It kept coming back. Stronger and stronger. And every time he woke, he felt like something had been peeled off of him in the night. Something soft. Something sacred.

He refused to speak on it. Refused to write it down. Didn’t dare let it live outside his own chest.

Not yet.

Not running. Not crying. Just sitting there heavy on his heart. Another crack of thunder rumbled the sky as heavy rain pelted on his family homes roof. He rose from his bed pulling his rosary off his night stand bringing it to his lips as he said a silent prayer.

Lord… have mercy on me. I been seein’ things. Eyes in the corner, whispers in the dark, faces that don’t belong to no man. I don’t know if it’s You, or the Devil, or somethin’ in between. But I’m scared. I’m tired. I’m tryin’.

Send me peace. Send me clarity. Send me somethin’ steady, somethin’ real. A light, Lord. Just a light to carry me through. Even if I don’t understand it yet.

As he said his Amens and laid back in his bed, Onyakopon had felt for the first time think that He wasn't listening.

By Sunday morning, the dreams still hadn’t left him. They clung to his shoulders like wet cotton.

But church folk didn’t care about dreams, especially not from a man like him. broad-shouldered and Bible-raised man, with a voice like honey on fire. The kind of voice that made pews sway and Deaconess Grant shout with both hands in the air.

Onyakopon stood at the front of the little white church he'd grown up in fingers wrapped around the wooden pulpit like every Sunday, his deep waves still damp from a basin rinse. Sunlight filtered in through stained glass panes, splashing color over the choir robes and sweating faces. The fans were flapping, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus but the heat was still wrapping necks like a noose.

“There's a leak in this old building... and my soul...” His voice filled the rafters, warm and booming.

Eyes closed. He let the song carry him. He tried to lose himself in it. But then

He saw it.

It wasn’t a flash. Not a trick of the light. It was there, really there, on the third pew from the front, sitting where Sister McGee always sat, legs crossed and grinning wide like it was proud to be seen. A thing with a stretched-out face and black gums, skin that shimmered like chicken grease thrown in water. Its eyes were hollow, but it always found him.

Mocking.

Ony’s throat caught on the next word.

“...This old building—keeps o' sinkin' and my... soul”

His voice had cracked like he was sixteen again singing for the congregation for the first time, he winced. Blinked. Shook his head.

Someone from the amen corner called out, calm and easy: “Take your time, brother.”

The thing was gone.

Just a trick of the heat, he told himself. Just his mind. The back doors of the church creaked open. Slow. Dust in the light. And there she was. Tall for a woman and wide-hipped, dark-skinned kissed by Gods given sun, like the earth after heavy rain, wearing a faded rose dress with puffed sleeves and lace at the hem. Her black cat trotted beside her like it belonged there. She held a woven basket over one arm and wore a wide-brimmed hat trimmed with dried lavender.

Every voice in the room caught in their throats.

Folks didn’t speak her name. Didn’t meet her eye. The bastard daughter of sin and prophecy. The daughter of a witch. But she just walked, quietly, deliberately, like the whole town wasn't against her and took her seat on the far back pew. Sitting there there like she always had a right to.

And while the choir tried to pick up the next verse, she began to knit. Small, neat stitches. Humming the melody under her breath in a voice soft as velvet.

Onyakopon stared too long.

He wasn't the only one.

Service ended with a shaky benediction and more side-eyes than hallelujahs.

Folks filed out quickly, muttering about the heat, about the hymnbook pages sticking together, about anything but the girl and her cat in the back pew. Onyakopon pretended to help fold chairs in the fellowship hall just long enough for everyone to disappear down the gravel road.

He stepped out the side door into the sunlight, breathing like he’d been underwater. But even outside, the church still felt-strange. Like it held its breath after she walked in.

She was still in the last pew. Alone now. Knitting the same deep thread with slow, sure hands. Her cat sat curled beside her like a guardian made of fur shadows. The rest of the sanctuary had emptied out like they feared catching something just by breathing her air.

Onyakopon stood at the door a moment, one boot scuffing the floor.

She didn’t look up. Just said, soft and almost teasing , delicate voice bouncing off the empty decaying walls.

“You feel it too.”

His spine stiffened as he straightens himself up, removing his cap from his head, deep

frown lines growing between his eyebrows.

"Ma'am?"

She tugged the thread once, looped it, pulled it through. Her fingers never paused.

“What don’t belong in the Lord’s house.”

His lips parted, but he said nothing.

Then she looked up. Wide, round, doll-like eyes — so dark they shimmered. She looked at him like a mirror. Like she saw every dream he tried to forget, every shadow that clung to the edges of his soul.

Onyakopon’s stomach twisted. A chill moved up his spine slow as molasses. He hadn’t told nobody about the thing that visited him in sleep or what he'd seen — not his mother, his father or brother. This was something just between him and God. He felt his fists clench, not in threat but in defense. That kind of knowing… it wasn’t natural.

He took a step in, boots creaking on the old wood. “You been watchin’ me?” he asked, voice low and rough like split wet oak.

“No,” she said, still sweet, still calm. “You came lookin’ for me. Even if you ain’t know it yet.

He frowned deeper, throat dry. “You don't know what you're talkin' about ma'am..”

“Mm.” She glanced down. “And yet, here you are, tryin' to defend yourself to a stranger who don't know what she talkin' bout."

The black cat stretched from its place at her feet and wound around his leg, tail brushing his calf like a whisper. Onyakopon looked down, startled, as it rubbed against his dress shoes, purring deep like a hymn. He tensed, stepping forward, and his shadow stretched over her like a giant. Despite their size difference, he felt a sudden weight in the air. Her presence loomed, even sitting, somehow bigger than him. Ony was always the biggest man in any room — 6’7, broad and built like a pillar. But this woman, in a worn rose dress and knitted calm, made him feel small.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

He swallowed.

“Who are you?” he asked, voice softer now, but no less honest.

She smiled just slightly. “You already know.”

“I don’t.” She hummed again, “Your dreams are becoming louder brother,” she murmured, threading her yarn again. “Woke the sky last night, Woke the dirt.”

He blinked, unsettled. He didn’t want know how to fight it. Didn’t know how to turn off the uncomfortable truth in her voice. Her fingers moved again. The yarn wound tighter. She added, without looking

It’s this town. Folks plant their evil here, water it, pray over it like it’s corn and wheat. And it grows.”

Ony’s jaw tensed. The cat flicked its tail once like punctuation. She tied off the thread, tucked the yarn into her basket like she was sealing something sacred or dangerous.

“When you start to see the truth,” she said, standing now, her basket in hand, “you’ll know where to find me.”

She lingered in the doorway, eyes on him like she already knew what he’d choose.

“May the Lord keep you, Onyakopon. Even when the ones close to you can’t.”

Then she vanished into the rain.

The church doors creaked as he stepped out, the rain had stopped sunlight dull and sour under a heavy sky. No birds singing. Just the wind dragging itself down the road like a dying hymn.

The woods swallowed her up quick, the church just a shadow behind her. Leaves brushed her shoulders, pine needles crunching beneath her bare feet. She didn’t look back once. Mama trotted at her side, tail high, silent as breath.

“He don’t even know what he is yet,” she whispered, mostly to herself, but also to the cat.

Mama meowed low, like a scoff.

“I know, I know. You don’t like him. Sayin’ I oughta let him stay lost.”

She paused by a fallen log, placing her basket on it carefully. Sat down, drawing her shawl tighter across her shoulders.

“But he’s dreamin’ the way I used to. That means somethin’. Ain’t many left who can see past the veil.”

Mama leapt up beside her, staring off into the trees like she was waiting for somethin, or someone.

The girl smiled faintly. “You always was overprotective.”

Mama blinked slow.

“I ain’t lettin’ him close, not yet. Just watchin’.”

She turned her eyes to the sky, where clouds pressed low and the wind smelled like storm.

“When he’s ready to see the truth,” she murmured, “he’ll know where to find me.”

Mama curled against her side, purring soft and wary.

And the forest, for now, held its breath.

Monday morning came like it always did — quiet, slow, and too bright.

The sky was washed pale like a bedsheet left too long in the sun, and the town lay still beneath it. No rain left, just the memory of it in puddles and soft mud tracks. Ony didn't dream at all last night, just darkness and cold.

Onyakopon stood by the porch steps, box of his mama’s peach pies tucked under one arm, the other gripping a thermos of chicory coffee. Caleb his older brother was already loading up the truck, hands moving fast and efficient, like always.

“Quit draggin’ your feet,” Caleb muttered. “These folks ain’t gonna wait forever.”

Ony grunted, climbing in beside him.

They rode through the back roads in silence for a while, gravel popping under the tires, air sticky with heat. Every house they passed had a porch, and every porch had eyes. Folks rocking slowly in creaking chairs, faces turned their way but not smiling. At the first stop, Miss Irene met them on her porch with a crooked grin and two dollars folded tight in her hand.

“Your mama’s a blessin’, she know that?” she said, voice thin as brittle paper. “Tell her I’m prayin’ for her.”

She didn’t look at Ony when she said it.

By the third house, he noticed it, the way people didn’t laugh the same. Didn’t talk the same. Brother Johnny Al who always joked with him just nodded and shut the screen door with a quick and nasty slam. He saw the elderly man peeking from the blinds as they drove away, he should have worn his glasses today because he swore his eyes flash completely dark.

Another one of their regulars wouldn't meet his eyes during prayer, just muttered “Amen” too fast and wiped sweat off his brow that wasn’t there.

The last stop was by the church, where Sister Myra handed Caleb her tithe and asked them to “keep an extra prayer for the sinful.” She smiled at his brother when she said it, but Ony felt it cut anyway when it dropped as she looked at him duly

By noon, Ony’s chest felt tight. Not like fear like being studied. Like his skin was a page someone was reading line by line. He wondered if this is his Jesus felt when they read his commandments though Caleb didn’t notice, or pretended not to. He was good at that.

Caleb was humming to himself on the drive back, fingers tapping the wheel in rhythm, until Ony finally spoke.

“Something’s off,” Ony said, quiet.

Caleb didn’t look at him when he responded, just snorted dismissively. “It’s Monday. That’s what’s off.”

“I’m serious.” Ony’s voice was low, almost unsure. “Like somethin’ shifted. Like the world ain’t sittin’ right on its bones no more.”

“Somethin’ off,” he said again, quieter now, letting the words hang in the cab.

His long legs stretched out in the passenger seat, feet braced like he was expecting a turn that never came.

Caleb finally glanced at him, just a flick of the eye, jaw tight. Then laughed, short and sharp.

“Boy, you feel off ‘cause you always by yourself, hidin’ in your own head like some daydreamin’ woman. You need to study more. With me and With Pa. Need to find you a wife. Get you right.”

“...A wife?”

The word stuck in Ony’s throat, and just like that she was there. Not in body but in that sudden, dangerous way dreams slide into daylight. She wasn’t doing anything grand just sitting on a porch, elbows on her knees, eyes half-lidded like she knew every secret he ever kept. Humming low. Thread slipping through her fingers like it had a mind of its own. Like he did.

Ony blinked slow, like the words took a second to land again he repeated "A wife.."

Caleb went on, voice firmer now. “You feel off ‘cause you always stuck in your damn head, day dreamin’. Walkin’ around like you waitin’ on signs and visions instead of doin’ what men do.”

Ony turned to him, slow. “And what’s that?”

“Work. Worship. Wife. Provide. That’s the order. That’s how Pa did it. That’s how I do it. You think I didn’t feel strange too before I married Leah? Thought the whole world was wrong. Now look, she carryin’ my child, and I sleep just fine.”

Ony shook his head, jaw tightening. “So you think I’m crazy ‘cause I ain’t found nobody to lay up under yet?”

“I think you lonely,” Caleb snapped. “And lonely men start believin’ in all kinds of foolishness.”

They pulled into the driveway and sat in silence, the weight of everything pressing down like the summer heat.

Caleb finally broke it, voice low and hard. “I think somethin’ needs to fix you. You been strange for weeks. Folks see it. You don’t even try no more—don’t talk, don’t help with the sermons, barely speak to Ma. And now you sittin’ here talkin’ like the sky’s fallin’.”

Ony turned his head to the window, jaw tight. “You don’t see what I see.”

“No, I don’t. And that’s the damn problem. You always talkin’ in riddles. Bein’ quiet ain’t the same as bein’ deep.” Caleb’s voice was sharp. “You need to come back to earth, Ony. You ain’t no damn prophet. You just lost.”

Ony’s voice was cold, clipped. “Maybe you’re the lost one if you think a woman and a baby in this rotting town gonna fix anything.”

Caleb’s eyes narrowed. “So you disrespectin’ the Bible teachings, boy?”

Ony didn’t look at him. Just said quietly,

“Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return.”

Caleb turned to face him, brow furrowed. Ony finally met his brother’s eyes. “That don’t sound like disrespect,” Ony said, voice flat. “That sound like a man knows this world don’t owe him nothin’. Not comfort. Not clarity. Not no wife or baby to fix what’s broke inside.”

Ony opened the door and stepped out, boots hitting the dirt like punctuation. The screen door creaked faintly in the distance, wind brushing against the trees. Caleb stayed in the truck for a second longer, jaw flexing, breath shallow. Then he shoved the door open.

“You always pullin’ them verses like a blade,” Caleb snapped, rounding the truck

“Think that makes you more holy? Makes you a better God-fearing man than me?”

Ony didn’t answer, just walked slow toward the porch, hands in his pockets like nothing touched him. Caleb caught up fast, grabbing his arm. " I’m talkin’ to you.”

Ony yanked back. “And I heard you. You mad ‘cause I know what I’m talkin’ about, and it don’t line up with your little box of how a man supposed to be.”

Caleb shoved him then, not hard, but hard enough.

“You think knowin’ scripture make you better than me? You think starin’ off into space and spittin’ riddles make you more of a man?”

Ony pushed him back, this time with force.

“I think pretendin’ like a wife and a baby make the rot go away is a lie. I think that makes you the fool.”

They were close now, breath hot, shoulders squared. From the porch came a soft creak the screen door opening slow.

Their mother stepped down from the porch, robe tied tight at the waist, her expression unreadable — but her eyes sharp as ever. Leah hovered behind her, one hand on her stomach, eyes wide.

“That’s enough out here,” she said again, sterner now. “I don’t care who’s feelin’ what you don’t raise your voices like that on this land.”

Caleb’s chest was still heaving, fists balled at his sides, but he dropped his eyes. Ony, jaw locked, He looked at her, really looked at her and something in him softened.

“I’ll be back ‘fore supper,” he said quietly.

Then he leaned in, pressed a quick, reverent kiss to her forehead.

“Love you, Mama.”

She nodded, the way only a mother could like she saw through him but loved him anyway.

As Ony stepped off the porch, he brushed past Caleb, shoulder knocking into his brother’s like punctuation. Deliberate. Firm.

Caleb turned after him, lips parted like he had more to say, but whatever it was, he swallowed it.

Leah reached for his hand from the porch.

“Let him go,” she said gently.

“He don’t need to wander,” Caleb muttered. Their mother didn’t look at him when she answered.

“Maybe he do.”

Onyakopon walked with no aim, boots kicking up dust as the cicadas screamed louder than the thoughts in his head. The town stretched out around him, crooked and quiet all heatwaves and peeling paint and eyes he couldn’t see but felt. His hands were in his pockets, his jaw still clenched.

He didn’t know where he was going, Nowhere, really but it felt like somewhere

Like something was pulling.

The sun hung thick and low, dripping gold between the trees, and for a second everything felt too still like the world had paused to hear his steps. Then he saw it.

A black cat, perched on a crumbling stone fence just ahead. Its fur looked wet, almost shining. It didn’t move when he approached.

Just stared, eyes like glass marbles catching the light. He slowed and the cat didn’t blink, didn't flinch. Just waited.

Ony felt a chill crawl up his neck despite the heat.

“You lost?” he murmured, barely louder than the wind. The cat tilted its head, eyes squinting like his question offended it, then turned. Leaping down, slipping into the brush like it had somewhere to be and maybe, just maybe, he was supposed to follow. So, he'd stand there for a while listening, waiting - for what exactly? He wasn't so sure himself.

Staring at the place where the cat had vanished. His breath slowed, the tension in his shoulders settling into something heavier. He didn’t move, just listened to the buzz of the heat, the rustle of leaves.

Thinking about turning around. About going home. Sitting down with his family at dinner telling them he was ready to look for a wife, asking his father to mentor him. Mold him to be just like him and Caleb. About pretending he hadn’t felt something shift deep in his gut the second he saw that cat.

Maybe Caleb was right.

Maybe he was strange.

Maybe he was just lonely.

A sharp, irritated meow snapped him from the thought. There it was again — the black cat, now sitting neatly a few paces behind him, tail curled tight, ears pointing upward, eyes narrowed like it was waiting on a child dragging their feet. It meowed again, louder this time, then stood and turned. Walked ahead slowly, stopping every few feet like it was checking to see if he’d catch on. Ony swallowed. Then, without a word, he followed.

The cat cut through a thicket like it had somewhere to be, glancing back only once before Ony followed. Trees arched above him like ribs, the woods swallowing sound until all he heard was his breath and the soft thud of his boots on earth. It didn’t feel like he was walking anymore. More like being led. They came to a clearing a patch of light cracked open like an eye between the trees, and there she was. She sat on an old quilt, colors faded like memory, her back to him. Her clothes clung loose and thin in the heat nothing like what women wore outside the house. Nothing a preacher’s son had any business looking at. But he did.

She was knitting again. Hands moving fast, like she was trying to exorcise something with every twist of thread. Her dark coils slipped loose, brushing her cheeks as she muttered to herself, angry and fast. The cat trotted over to her and curled up like it had been expected.

Without looking up, she said, “Thought you didn’t like him, Mama.”

Ony took a careful step forward, brow furrowed. “Your mutt don’t like me?”

The girl turned sharp, like she’d been waiting on that line. Her hands froze mid-stitch, and her head snapped over one shoulder. That chubby, soft face from church? It scrunched up like a storm cloud now, eyes suddenly sharp cutting.

“Only mutt here is you.”

Even the cat hissed, low and warning, tail flicking once like a whip before settling back down beside her with a satisfied grunt.

Ony stiffened.

She wasn’t sweet like she was in the Lord’s house. Not quiet and warm like the girl humming behind the pews. Her energy was strange now. Bristled. Her lips were dry, chapped pink from too much sun, and her voice carried something jagged underneath it.

“You always follow stray things?” she asked, threading again quick and harsh like the yarn had done her wrong.

He didn’t answer at first.

Didn’t know how.

Didn’t know why his feet brought him here at all. “You was knittin’ in church,” he said finally, more to himself than her.

“I was.”

“You knittin’ now.”

“Got hands, don’t I?”

He squinted at her, frustrated and fascinated all at once. “You always talk like this?” She shrugged, didn’t look up. “Only when men ask me stupid things.”

Ony winced, rubbing the back of his neck. His boot scuffed at the dirt, slow and awkward. He didn’t have much practice with women, his world was made up of his mother, elder ladies at church, and Leah when she needed something fetched from the pantry.

“Apologies, ma’am,” he mumbled, voice low and careful.

The girl paused. Her fingers stilled against the needles, eyes flicking up to study him for the first time without all that steel in them.

“No need to apologize,” she said, gentler now. “The day hasn’t been the kindest to me.”

She yanked at her project something half-made and angry with color, thread coiled tight like it was holding its breath. “I shouldn’t take it out on you. If anything, I should be used to it by now.” She huffed, more to the yarn than to him, jaw clenching like there was more she wanted to say but didn’t trust the space between them enough yet.

Ony shifted his weight, thumb hooking in his belt loop. His voice came quiet, almost a whisper. “Day ain’t been kind to me neither.”

That made her pause again. Just long enough for the cat to flick its tail against her hip, like it was waiting too.

She didn’t look at him when she spoke next, just patted the empty space beside her blanket, fingers brushing away twigs and grass. “Well… you can sit if you want. You look like you been walking without knowin’ where to land.”

Ony hesitated. His eyes flicked down, he hadn’t really looked before, not properly. But now the way the fabric clung to her arms, the soft rise of her chest as she breathed, the bare skin of her calves peeking beneath the hem, it struck him all at once.

It wasn’t scandalous in the way church folks used the word. But it was… intimate. Delicate. Dressed like that, back home, she’d be in her own bedroom or padding barefoot through the kitchen fetching tea for her mother. Not out here in the woods with a stranger.

His throat worked as he swallowed. “You sure?”

She gave a half-smile without looking at him. “I wouldn’t’ve asked if I wasn’t.”

He rubbed the back of his neck again, cheeks burning as he eased himself down beside her careful to leave a respectful distance, hands resting flat against his thighs like he was trying not to touch anything at all. The cat stretched between them like it was measuring the space.

They sat in silence.

Not the kind that crawled under your skin like Sunday tension or lingered like unsaid prayers, but something softer. Still. Ony sat with his hands folded, shoulders loose for once. The weight he always carried in his spine, the pressure to square his chest, to be something righteous and loud — eased without permission.

The girl kept knitting. Her fingers moved fast, urgent almost, like she was working through a thought with each loop and pull. The cat yawned, curling into a perfect comma between them.

Then, without looking at him, she said it low:

“Your head’s loud again. Makin’ the wind brush by a lil too fast. Gettin chilly. ”

Ony blinked, brows pulling together.

“Just breathe,” she added.

He did. And it wasn’t a deep breath or a proud one, but something real. It slid out of him slow, quiet. A breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

The wind slowed. The trees settled.

So did he.

The silence between them didn’t ache like it did at home. It stretched warm, quiet—not something to fix, just something to feel. Ony let his eyes drift to her hands, how fast they moved, like they had somewhere to be.

“You always knit this fast?” he asked, voice low.

She gave a soft shrug, not looking up. “Only when I’m tryin’ not to cuss or cry. It helps. Pullin’ somethin’ ugly outta me and making it useful.”

Ony nodded slowly, watching the rhythm of her fingers. The thread danced between her knuckles like it knew a secret language.

“You… think you could show me how?”

That made her pause. She looked at him for a beat, then down at her lap, like she was weighing it. Finally, she held up a half-finished square of fabric — dark, tight with frustration.

“You sure?” she asked. “Most men too proud to sit still with something this soft.”

“I’m not most men,” Ony murmured, not meeting her eyes.

She smiled, not wide but real, and shifted a little to the side. " I’ll show you.”

He shifted closer, slow like the earth might split if he moved too fast. She handed him the needles, warm from her fingers, and the yarn, coarse but strangely comforting.

“Keep your hands steady,” she said, voice softer now. “Let it pass through like water. Don’t grab it so tight.”

Ony tried, fumbling at first. She reached over, guiding his fingers without making a big deal out of it. Her hands were smaller than his, but surer—she shaped him like she did the thread, gentle but firm. “You’re teachin’ me to do women’s work,” he muttered, half teasing.

She snorted. “I’m teachin’ you to keep your mind from rot. Don’t matter what shape the work come in.”

That made him smile without thinking.

“You always talk like that?” he asked. he asked, glancing at her from beneath his lashes. “Like you halfway know what God whisperin’ before He even say it?” She didn’t answer right away. Just tilted her head, lips twitching like she was deciding how much to give away.

“You asked me that before,” she said finally.

He blinked. “Did I?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Well…” He scratched the back of his neck. “You talk like my granny, but you don’t look eighty-six.”

That made her laugh—real and full, spilling out of her like light. She leaned back a little, grinning at him. “Your granny must’ve been sharp.”

“She was,” Ony said, quiet now, surprised at the warmth threading through his chest. He let the silence sit between them again, but it didn’t feel empty — it felt close. And when their eyes met for just a second too long, something shifted.

Not loud. Not sudden. Just… true.

Then nip.

“Agh—damn!” Ony yelped, jerking slightly as Mama, the cat, sunk her teeth gently into his thigh like she’d had enough of the moment.

The girl rolled her eyes. “Mama don’t like when people get too comfortable.”

“She got good timing,” Ony muttered, rubbing his leg and glaring at the cat, who looked smug and settled right back down beside her. “Guess she figured you needed some grounding.”

They both laughed, the weightlifting again, but not gone. Just resting for now. Ony glanced down at the cat, still lounging like she owned the blanket and the girl both. He reached out a slow hand—Mama narrowed her eyes but didn’t move.

“How long you had her?” he asked, voice lower now, thoughtful.

The girl’s fingers slowed around the yarn. “Seven years,” she said, quiet.

He looked up. “That long?”

“She showed up a few hours after my mama passed.” Her voice was steady, but there was something buried in it—like a scar covered by a silk scarf. “Just… appeared on the porch. Sat right at the door like she was waitin’. Like she knew.”

Ony said nothing, only watched her face.

“I like to think she is my mama. In some way,” she went on, threading the needle through the yarn faster now. “Mama always said she’d come back as a black cat. Said it’d suit her. Misunderstood. Proud. Particular. Protective.”

Her lips curved faintly. “And she was all three.” Mama let out a slow purr, as if in agreement.

“I believe that,” Ony murmured.

She looked over at him, brows lifted slightly.

“Why?”

He shrugged, then shook his head. “I don’t know. Just feels true. Like the way certain songs make you cry even if you don’t understand the words.”

She smiled at that, soft, almost grateful.

“You always talk like that?” she teased.

He grinned. “Guess we even now.”

Their laughter faded into the breeze, the knitting needles tapping steady again. Somewhere in all of it, Ony realized — he hadn’t thought about the tightness in his chest for minutes now. Minutes that felt like something more than time.

The wind shifted, sharp and sudden, cutting through the thick afternoon air like a knife dipped in river water. It brushed against Ony’s arms and made the fine hairs on his skin rise. But it wasn’t the cold that made him stiffen.

It was the girl.

She froze. Fingers gone still, the thread limp in her lap. Her body locked up like a porch swing caught mid-sway. Even Mama, curled smug and sleepy just moments ago, lifted her head, ears flicking forward, eyes narrowed at something just beyond the trees.

“You alright?” Ony asked, leaning a little closer, voice hushed like he didn’t want to disturb whatever had just walked through them. She didn’t answer right away. Just blinked like she was trying to remember how. Then nodded slowly, though it didn’t quite reach her shoulders.

“Sometimes the wind don’t come to cool,” she murmured, barely audible. “Sometimes it’s just passin’ through, carryin’ somethin’ behind it.” Ony glanced around, suddenly more aware of how quiet it had gotten. No birds. No rustle of leaves. Just wind and the low hum of something beneath it.

“What’s it carryin’?”

She shook her head. “Don’t know yet. But Mama felt it too.”

The cat was on her feet now, tail low, pressed against the girl's side like she might need to bolt — or block. “You should get home soon,” the girl said gently, but her eyes didn’t meet his. They were somewhere else. “Sun’s not as strong as it looks.”

Ony didn’t move.

“I’ll walk you,” he offered, his voice surer than he felt.

But she just gave a tiny smile, one that didn’t match the new edge in the air. “I’ve walked through worse.”

They stood at the edge of the clearing now, where the trees swallowed the sun in long shadows. Ony hadn’t realized how far they’d wandered — or maybe how far she’d led him. The cat weaved between their ankles, brushing its side against Ony’s boot one last time before settling back by her feet.

He took a step back, not wanting to go, but knowing the air had changed again. “You gon’ tell me your name?”

She paused, gathering up her needles and thread. The question hung in the air like smoke before she finally spoke, voice light but low, like a secret.

“You already know it.”

“I don’t.”

She looked up, lips curving into something half-playful, half-knowing. “Well, that’s what makes it fun.”

He gave her a look, amused and a little flustered. “Alright then… I’m Onyakopon.”

“I know,” she said softly, the smile not leaving her face. He blinked, surprised, then chuckled. “’Course you do.”

Their hands met then — a shake at first, but it lingered. Her hand was soft but firm, warmer than the wind that had just passed.

They didn’t speak as they held it. Just let it stretch, like maybe neither of them was quite ready to leave. Then her fingers curled, just slightly. “Be mindful,” she said, voice almost too quiet for the air. “Of what you carry. Of whom you follow. Everything that feels wrong right now. It's not all in your head.”

Ony’s brows drew together. He opened his mouth to ask what she meant, but she was already turning away, Mama trotting ahead like she knew the way. He stood there watching, rooted in place, as the girl moved between the trees, slipping into them like smoke. Her nightgown caught the last bit of light, white and fluttering like wings.

Then she was gone.

Like something holy. Or something beautifully haunting.

By the time Ony reached the porch, the sun was kissing the edge of the horizon, everything soaked in that strange amber glow that made shadows long and soft. His boots thudded against the wooden steps, and the familiar creak under the third board welcomed him home like it always did. Inside, the house was warm and humming with domestic rhythm. Dishes clinked softly, the smell of stewed okra and baked bread thick in the air. His mother stood at the head of the table, her sleeves rolled to the elbow, humming a hymn under her breath as she laid out silverware. Leah was beside her, placing the cornbread down with careful hands over a dishcloth.

They both looked up when he stepped in.

His mother’s eyes lingered. “Told you I’d be back before supper,” Ony said, brushing a hand over his neck, suddenly conscious of how the wind still clung to his shirt, like he’d brought the outside in with him.

"Mm make sure you wash them hands before sittin' at my table." She didn’t say more and went back to setting forks.

Leah’s eyes flickered between the two brothers as Caleb appeared from the back hall, wiping his hands on a dish towel. Ony tensed instinctively, but Caleb didn’t say anything just stared at him for a second too long. The air in the room wasn’t hostile. But it wasn’t settled either. Ony felt it swirl around him, curious and careful, like everyone was waiting for something to crack.

He moved toward the sink to wash his hands, nodding toward his mother as he passed. “Smells good in here, Ma.”

She nodded again, this time more gently, then glanced toward Caleb like she was measuring something unsaid between them.

No one asked where he’d gone.

And he didn’t offer it.

But as he dried his hands and found his usual seat, he thought of her—bare feet in the grass, humming low, thread dancing between her fingers like it had a mind of its own.

The clink of forks against ceramic was the loudest sound at the table. Ma had made stew, rich and spiced, but it tasted like sawdust in Onyakopon’s mouth.

“Had a little heat between you two earlier,” Pa said without looking up, spoon cutting through his bowl. “Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity.”

Ony didn’t look at Caleb, though he felt the verse land like a stone between them. Psalm 1:33, yeah — but it had the weight of Cain and Abel behind it, and they all knew it.

Caleb just scoffed under his breath.

“Yesterday’s service ended early,” Caleb said casually, like a man mentioning the weather. “Soon as that girl came 'long Whole congregation cleared out like they caught the plague.

Ma sneered without missing a beat. “Never met such an unlady-like woman. Wandering about with a devil’s pet, whisperin’ to trees like they whisper back. But Lord knows she can stitch. Shame every thread feel like a curse.”

Ony’s grip tightened around his spoon. He stared down into his stew, letting the broth steam up his face like fog. He didn’t say anything — not about her hands, not about her voice, not about the way she said his name like she’d always known it.

Ony felt a strange ache twist inside him at her words, a pull toward the woman Ma so openly despised. He kept his jaw tight, the silence settling even heavier around the table.

Leah shifted uneasily, but no one else spoke. The candle flickered low, and the weight of unspoken things hung thick between them.

“Boy,” Pa said suddenly, voice firm. “You best get out your head. A man’s got no business sittin’ at his father’s table starin’ off into the dark.”

Ony blinked slowly, but didn’t answer.

“You think you grown? Then act like it. Ain’t no room in this house for cloudy minds and foolish obsessions. You wanna be a man, be one. Handle your kin. Get your head on straight. Get your spirit right.”

Still, Ony didn’t speak — not to him. His eyes stayed low, locked on the chipped edge of his plate. Then, like something creeping up from his chest without permission, his voice slid out low, almost like it didn’t belong to him

“What makes her a bad person for lovin’ trees a lil bit?”

The room froze.

Ma’s hand stilled halfway to her cup. Leah’s fork clinked quietly against her plate. Caleb leaned back slow in his chair, face unreadable. Pa narrowed his eyes. “What you just say?”

“I just mean…” Ony muttered, spearing a piece of fried okra with his fork, “she’s a woman with a pet cat? That knits.” He shrugged like it was nothing, then stuffed the food in his mouth, chewing slow, like he hadn’t just cracked the air in two.

Ma’s eyes narrowed. “That thing ain’t no pet. Strays like that don’t belong in the house of the Lord — or round decent folk like the ones in our community.”

Caleb scoffed under his breath, reaching for his cup. “Ain’t about the cat. It’s the way she carries herself. Like she knowin’ things she ain’t supposed to.”

“That woman ain’t right, Ony,” Pa said, voice low and warning. “Mark my words. Ain’t no good ever come from women who walk like they float and talk like they pray to the moon.”

Ony didn’t respond. Just kept chewing, like maybe the weight of the room couldn’t touch him if he didn’t let it. But his ears were hot, and his throat ached in a way that food couldn’t soothe.

Leah, quiet all this time, finally spoke, voice soft as usual. “She knitted my apron. The one with the sunflowers. It’s… pretty.”

Ma turned sharply. “And you best not wear it again. We don’t know what spirits she stitched into that thread.”

Ony’s silverware scraped the plate a little too loud when he's told up.

“I’ll go wash up,” he mumbled, though his plate wasn’t empty. “Y’all keep on eatin’. Thank you for the dinner mama"

He didn’t wait for permission. Just turned and walked toward the back, the screen door creaking open as he stepped onto the porch, letting the night air slap him clean.

Behind him, the candle flickered.

The back porch creaked under his weight, old wood sighing like it remembered too much. No one came out here anymore — not since Granny passed. Her wicker chair still sat in the corner, covered in a thin film of dust and memories. Ony didn’t sit there. He chose the steps instead, letting the night press in close, heavy and still.

Crickets sang. The wind tugged gently at the trees, and for the first time all day, nobody asked him to be anything. He let his shoulders drop. Let his jaw unclench.

Then came the sound — soft, slow, deliberate.

The screen door moaned open behind him.

He didn’t turn, not at first, until he heard the light step on the porch — and then a bottle clink. He glanced over his shoulder.

Leah stood there, caught like a deer in her round belly stretching the front of her dress. In one hand, a dusty wine bottle; in the other, just shame.

“It won’t hurt the baby,” she said quickly, blinking like she might cry or laugh or both.

Ony raised his eyebrows and looked back out at the dark yard. “I get why you need it,” he said flatly. “Dealin’ with this family’ll make you wanna drink holy water straight from the font.”

That earned him a quiet laugh — small and bitter.

Leah walked over and sat beside him with a sigh, the bottle tucked between her knees. “I ain’t drinkin’ for real. Just wanted to hold it. Make it feel like I had a choice, even if I don’t.”

Ony hummed, a low sound in his throat.

“You and me both.”

They sat in silence for a beat, the air between them not tense, just… lived in.

“You ever think ‘bout just leavin’?” she asked, voice soft, eyes fixed on the dark stretch of trees.

“All the time.”

She nodded like she expected that. “Caleb says I should be grateful. That I’m safe here. That the Lord provided. But safe don’t feel like freedom, does it?”

Ony didn’t answer.

Not out loud and the silence stretched on the kind that didn’t beg to be filled. Just two people watching the dark, pretending the quiet didn’t know all their secrets.

Leah leaned back on her hands, her fingers curling around the edge of the step. “That girl from service yesterday…” she started, voice light but lined with something sharper, “she the reason you were gone all afternoon?”

Ony didn’t look at her. Just let the question hang there in the air between them, weightless and heavy all at once.

Leah smiled to herself, not unkind. “She’s... different. Not like folks around here.”

“She’s just a girl,” Ony said finally, though it didn’t sound convincing. Not even to him.

“A girl with a black cat and a stare like she’s already seen how the world ends,” Leah murmured, like she was thinking more than speaking. “She got the whole town feelin’ itchy and lookin’ for salt.”

Ony gave a faint snort. “You 'fraid of her too?”

“No,” Leah said simply. “But I think you are.”

That made him look at her. Really look.

She met his eyes, steady, too old for her years. “Not ‘cause she’s strange. But ‘cause she see somethin’ in you been tryin’ to bury.”

Ony didn’t respond. Couldn’t, really. His throat felt tight.

“She’s not evil. You’re right bout that part. Just a girl with a heavy hurt, a cat, and a different sense of faith. This town… it’s so close-minded, full of fear. The moment someone different comes along, folks scream ‘Satan’ or worse.”

“We used to be friends,” she said after a pause, like weighing whether to share too much. “Before her pa got caught up in some things. Before he disappeared. She was always so strange. Picking up bugs, talking to the ground, like she’d been here a thousand years instead of thirteen.”

She laughed, a soft, distant sound. “I used to joke she was a grandma reincarnated.”

Ony huffed out a soft laugh but then her smile faded, shadowed by memories. “When her daddy vanished, she was… calm. Like the universe does things for a reason. Said everything done in the dark will come to light.”

Her eyes darkened further. “Her mother got real sick after that. Took her own life.” She flicked squeeze the dusty wine bottle, then leaned in closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “Your daddy… I think he’s got

something to do with it all.”

Ony’s heart tightened. "How so?"

“She told me once, before her dad disappeared, he was there. And minutes after he left, her mother… she was found splattered all over her bed.” She made a finger-gun motion, sharp and cutting through the heavy air.

Silence fell again, heavy and still.

Then Leah sniffled — barely — and blinked fast. Her voice wavered, thinner now. “You know… she’s the one who told me I was pregnant before I even knew? I really hope this conversation stays between us.”

She paused, swallowing thickly. “Couple months back, when I was real sick and you and Caleb were out runnin’ errands… she came by. Her and that damn cat. I hadn’t seen her since we were fifteen. Daddy forbid me from ever seein’ her again. Said she was a witch. Imagine my shock when she showed up at my doorstep eleven years later — all grown, and God help me, even more beautiful than when we were kids.”

She let out a shaky breath and laughed weakly, rubbing her stomach.

“She put her hands on my belly like she already knew me. Told me I’d be the most wonderful mother. Like she saw it, clear as day.” Her voice cracked. “Knitted me a little hat… and an apron to fit my belly. Softest thing I ever touched. But then she said somethin’ strange. Told me this wasn’t the place to raise a child. Said I should leave.”

Leah’s eyes lifted to his, wet but steady now.

Leah stayed quiet for a moment, her shoulders hunched and small despite the swell of her belly. The bottle hung loosely in her grip, the wine sloshing quietly like it too was listening.

Then, almost like an afterthought—but heavier than anything she’d said before—she murmured, “Something’s eatin’ your Ma, your Pa… even Caleb. They ain’t the same no more, Ony. I can feel it in my bones.”

She stood carefully, steadying herself with the porch railing. Her eyes met his one last time.

“You take care of yourself, Onyakopon. Don’t let ‘em make you blind to what’s right in front of you.”

She handed him the wine bottle, fingers lingering for a moment on his, then let go. Her silhouette disappeared into the dark hallway behind her, door creaking shut behind her like a breath held too long.

The next morning, Ony woke to a scream that didn’t belong to him for once.

It came from the guest room.

Leah had miscarried.

The house felt like it was holding its breath, heavy and suffocating. Caleb paced the worn floorboards, muttering under his breath, his footsteps sharp and uneven. Leah sat still in the corner, her eyes hollow, the light that had shone there just the night before completely gone.

Onyakopon watched them both, the weight of silence pressing down on him. His Ma and Pa were nowhere to be found — the house was emptier than usual, shadows gathering in every corner like unwelcome guests.

Caleb’s voice cracked as he whispered to no one in particular, “This ain’t right… none of it.”

Leah’s fingers trembled in her lap, her breath shallow, as if the air itself had turned to stone.

Onyakopon stepped closer to Leah, voice low but steady.

“I’m sorry, Leah. For everything.”

She gave a weak nod, eyes shimmering with tears but empty of hope. "You got time Ony. Leave before it touches you too"

Caleb’s pacing stopped abruptly, his shoulders stiffening like a coil about to snap. He glared at Ony, voice rough and sudden.

The house felt like it was holding its breath, thick with tension that clung to the walls like humidity before a storm. Caleb paced the floor in crooked lines, muttering beneath his breath, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Leah sat on the edge of the couch like her soul had drained out in her sleep, her eyes puffy and distant. She hadn’t spoken more than a whisper since the scream.

Onyakopon stood in the doorway, watching. His parents were nowhere in sight. The house was too still. Wrong.

“I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ to start a fire,” Ony said gently, “but you need to sit, Caleb. You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor.”

Caleb’s steps stopped abruptly. He turned slow, like a puppet pulled too tight on its strings.

“Oh, now you care?” he said, voice dry and full of heat. “Now you got concern?”

Ony blinked. “I’ve always cared.”

“No, you don’t. You stand around lookin’ like you see through everybody, like none of this is real to you. Like we’re fools for tryin’ to build a damn life here.”

Ony’s jaw tightened. “That ain’t fair.”

“Oh, but it’s true,” Caleb spat. “You think I forgot what you said a while back? ‘A wife and baby won’t fix nothin’? You said that. You looked me dead in the eye and said that. Like all this… like Leah—”

His voice cracked. “—like the baby didn’t matter.”

Ony’s voice was low. “I never said they didn’t matter. I said it won’t fix what’s wrong with this place. This town. You know that better than anyone, Caleb.”

“No. What I know is, you mocked me. You sat at that table with your silence and your damn half-smiles and judged me. You think you’re better than me.”

“I don’t—”

Caleb stepped forward, eyes wide, glassy, something off inside them now. “You don’t? Say it with your tongue then. Look me in the face and tell me I’m not a fool for wantin’ more.”

Leah stirred, voice soft. “Caleb—”

“Don’t,” Caleb snapped without looking at her.

Ony held his ground. “You ain’t a fool, Caleb. But you’re acting like one now. You’re hurt, and I get it. But don’t come at me like I put that pain in you.”

“You put the doubt in me!” Caleb roared.

“You were the voice in the back of my head every damn day since she told me she was pregnant. And now look! Gone. Just like everything else in this cursed house.”

There was a beat — the kind of silence that comes before something breaks.

Then Caleb lunged.

The scuffle was quick but violent — desperation making up for lack of form. Ony tried to hold him off, but Caleb fought like he wanted to draw blood, like if he hurt someone else maybe the ache inside him would let up.

Leah shouted, trying to reach them, tears running down her face. “Stop it! Stop!”

Ony finally shoved Caleb back, hard enough to knock him into the wall. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Caleb’s chest heaved. His eyes were wrong not just angry, but dark, as if something else had stepped into him. Something watching through his face.

“You mocked me,” he said again, quieter now. “You cursed me with your mouth. You always did.”

Ony stepped back, heart pounding. “I ain’t cursed you. This place did.”

Leah stood between them, shaking, one hand stretched out like she was trying to keep them both from falling off a cliff.

“Please, Ony,” she whispered. “Just go."

He didn’t want to. He wanted to fix it — to fix him. But he saw the look in her eyes. That pleading. That fear.

So he turned and walked out the front door.

And behind him, the house groaned.

The air outside slapped his skin like cold judgment. Onyakopon didn’t know when his feet hit the porch or when the front gate swung open — he only remembered the crunch of gravel under his boots and the warm sting of blood trailing down from his eyebrow. His lip was split, throbbing with each breath. The fight with Caleb replayed in flashes behind his eyes, quick and jagged like broken glass.

He kept running.

Not because he was afraid of Caleb, but because he was afraid of what he saw in Caleb.

The sky above had gone dull and gray, not quite evening but no longer day. Birds had gone quiet. The cicadas, too. All that remained was the pounding in his ears and the sharp inhale-exhale of lungs trying to keep up.

He didn’t even realize where he was until his knees buckled beneath him, and he hit the soft grass with a grunt. Hands splayed wide, he pressed his back to the earth, letting the air wrap around him. He was in the clearing.

The tall reeds swayed around him like ghosts with no mouths, whispering only through movement. And the sky above looked... too wide. Too still.

He lay there, panting. Sweat mixed with blood. His chest rose and fell like he’d outrun death itself.

And maybe he had.

Or maybe he’d run straight into it.

His chest rose and fell like a storm settling into silence. The sky above blurred, hazy from tears he didn’t know he’d let fall. Grass pressed cool and damp against the back of his neck. His lip stung, and his brow pulsed where Caleb’s fist had landed. Blood still crusted warm at the corner of his mouth.

He closed his eyes. Just for a second.

When he opened them—

She was there.

Standing over him like a painting left out in the rain. Skirt brushing the wild grass, curls coiled like shadows catching sunlight, eyes so ancient and wide they swallowed the sky behind her. Her face was soft, full of moonlight and mourning. The kind of beautiful that didn’t beg to be noticed — it just was, like wind or thunder. There was dirt on her hem, leaves tangled in her sleeves like she’d risen straight from the woods, or maybe the earth itself. Her cat, that little ghost pressed against her ankles, then padded forward, tail flicking, and nipped at Ony’s fingers with a quiet warning.

He flinched and blinked like he might still be dreaming.

“You,” he whispered.

“I always come when the house sends you away,” she said simply.

She knelt beside him, hand grazing the grass just beside his temple, never touching just near enough to feel the air between them hum.

“You’re hurt again, physically this time”

“Didn’t come here on purpose.”

“I know,” she said. “But your blood always finds its way back to me.”

The cat settled between them, purring low, eyes unblinking like it knew all the secrets neither of them could say. Onyakopon studied her — the way her presence dulled the pain just by existing, the way her eyes never flickered with fear. He wanted to say something. Apologize for the world. Ask how she knew so much. Ask how she still smiled like hope hadn’t died with the rest of this town’s soul.

Instead, he asked, “You always show up like this?”

She shrugged, curls bouncing lightly.

“Maybe I’m your guardian angel,” she said, and for a second, he thought she might mean it.

Then, her voice dropped to something softer, sadder.

“Or maybe I just know what it’s like to get pushed out by people who pretend they love you.”

She stood again without a word, brushing dirt from her skirt like it was nothing new, like she’d done this a hundred times before. The cat circled his shoulder once, then darted ahead into the trees.

“You comin’?” she asked over her shoulder, already turning.

Onyakopon hesitated. He should’ve gone back home. Should’ve checked on Leah. Should’ve tried, one more time, to reach the brother that looked at him like a stranger now.

But instead, he pushed himself off the ground, every bruise and scrape a sharp reminder of what waiting there would cost.

He followed her.

They moved through the woods like ghosts her steps barely stirring the leaves, him limping just behind. The path wasn’t marked, but she never second-guessed her turns. Like the forest knew her. Or she knew it.

A weather-worn cottage appeared just beyond a thick grove of oaks, roof sagging under moss and time. Wind chimes made of bones and rusted spoons tinkled faintly from the porch. A line of herbs dried beneath the windows, and a narrow chimney puffed with gentle smoke.

“Don’t mind the mess,” she murmured, holding the door open.

Inside, it smelled of lavender, ash, and something green not rot, not decay, but age. Lived-in. Safe.

He stepped in, and the warmth hit him like a balm. The fire crackled. The cat disappeared somewhere deeper in the house. She gestured toward an old kitchen chair.

“Sit.”

He obeyed.

She moved through the space like she belonged in every shadow of it. Wet a cloth, brought over an old metal tin, crouched before him like he was something precious.

She wiped his lip first, gentle, patient. Then his brow.

“You bruise easy,” she said, voice nearly teasing.

“You always nurse people back to life in the woods?”

“Just you.”

He didn’t ask why. He just watched her, close now the fine lines in her expression, the way she focused like this mattered, like he mattered. Her touch was warm, but her eyes. . . her eyes were still carrying something ancient.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

She didn’t respond right away. Just dabbed at the last of the blood, then looked up at him, expression unreadable.

“Next time,” she said softly, “don’t wait ‘til the world breaks your face to come find me again. Too handsome for all these and bruises."

Her fingers lingered on his chin, gentle, almost tender. He caught the faint scent of lavender and honey on her skin and felt heat rise in his cheeks. His eyes flickered down to his lap, suddenly shy under her steady gaze.

For a long moment, they just stayed like that close enough to feel the warmth of each other’s breath, the unspoken words hanging in the air. The cat nipped playfully at his fingers, breaking the spell, but even then, her smile held a softness that made his heart tighten.

"You hungry?"

He smiled softly meeting her eyes again, " I could eat."

She chuckled, the sound light and unexpected in the heavy silence. “Good. I don’t do fancy, but I can fix you something real.”

She stood and moved toward the small kitchen, the cat padding behind her like a loyal shadow. Ony followed slowly, still feeling the strange comfort of her presence like the world had shifted just enough to let a little light in.

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vyoleya · 3 months ago

Text

hihi here's some more stuff of my complicated DR au!! here's a big ramble + a doodle of their designs

annd here's a more detailed + more dramatic version of them :)

okay.. huge ramble/lore dump under the cut. you have been warned

all parts of my au

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

in a desperate attempt to find his parents, arin ended up joining ras and becoming shattered. arin justified everything that he (and ras by extension) was doing all in service to reverse the merge. his last mission was supposed to be killing lloyd that way ras could become the new conduit, only for arin to discover what ras's true intentions were with his master. (which was nothing short of a celestial takeover.) arin never wanted to kill anyone, especially not lloyd, and feeling very ashamed of his actions, he purposefully attempted to rile lloyd up and give him clear openings for lloyd to kill him instead.

lloyd, not really wanting to kill arin & not taking the bait, kept trying to get him to come home. arin's whole plan backfired as arin got more and more desperate and riled up for lloyd to kill him, and ended up doing object shatterspin which killed lloyd .

in his last moments of consciousness, lloyd clung to the fleeting life inside of himself and (somewhat) merged with his element . due to being a conduit and having carried divine energy by not only the source dragons, but also the FSM, lloyd was able to sort of become a divine guardian . (ill talk more about him later but this is just a summary lol)

lloyd then used his power of life to protect arin, essentially making arin (very reluctantly) immortal. (the drawing of arin is what he looks like when he's close to death, as lloyd expends a lot of energy to keep him alive, and his 'guardian angel' wings become visible, and everyone can kinda feel lloyd's presence watching everything. hence the eye)

sora, after finding out that arin was responsible for killing lloyd, who she saw as a father, she began to believe that the arin she knew died once he became shattered. eventually, after many encounters where she'd beg for him to be 'good' again, she began to search for ways to kill him and free lloyd's spirit.

they both started wearing these wooden masks with painted moons on them, very much inspired by the whole 'the fool who let the moon go' post. arin started wearing his first after he first started getting serious injuries that weren't being healed very quickly. arin found that sora preferred him wearing it, bc then she didn't have to see her best friend's face in her enemy.

arin goes by the name 'z' whenever he can, based on the scar on his cheek that actually looks like the letter z in ninjargan! (he also does because he believes that going by arin is an insult to who he used to be.)

sora, with the help of jordana, ended up tracking down the reversal blade. because if she can reverse lloyd ever dying and arin becoming immortal, then with lloyd's conduit powers, they can stop ras's plans and Everything Will Be Okay Again!

she was planning on taking both herself and jordana to the past, but due to the merge being reversed sooner than planned, sora didn't have time to take jordana with her, leaving her behind.

after… a lot of nonsense on z's end (like the world ending, but him being the sole survival due to lloyd's energy… yikes) (oh and also him recreating the merge despite everything thanks to lloyds conduit-ness + the oni and dragon in him) and he also ends up in the past. now both sora and z are wandering around in the past trying to stop the world from ending :)

(to make it more dramatic, neither of them knows that the other survived. it's a very big jumpscare when they run into eachother.)

anyway. i may draw them more + post drabbles about them on ao3! so .... consider this your backstory guide to my overly complicated au . if you read this far then congrats !! (because yes, this is just the backstory)

(also if anyone has any questions feel free to ask .. . it'd be fun to answer them)

doodles and jokes here !

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bowsergotdunked · 2 months ago

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ROTTMNT AU: STREET SMARTS!

so, i wanna start off by saying a HUGE thank you to the people who gave their time and effort to this au: @autumnmoon15 , @songdrop and @purplecaffeinecat ! autumnmoon helped massively with the boys designs along with designing Raph, songdrop gave me anatomy tips and purplecaffeinecat gave feedback on the story!! INCREDIBLY HUGE THANKS, I LOVE YOU PEOPLE!!! >X3 🩵🩵🩵

on with the yapping!! જ⁀➴

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ MAIN STORY

this AU is a take on the separated au trope! in this one, the boys are mutated by draxum and raised by him up until their early teens, but unfortunately get separated when an accident happens.

now without the guidance of any parental figure and scarred, the boys have to navigate life in the hidden city as the mystic menaces!

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ CHARACTER BIOS

(i'll add the design ref sheets when i draw them and clean this up for a masterpost eventually lol)

── .✦ Raph!

unable to fullfil his role as leader due to an injury, so he took on the role of teaching his brothers how to fight (with some help from Donnie),

only leaves the lair when absolutely necessary (usually to kick ass),

reserved, but still friendly when desired,

pseudo-leader,

basically 2k12!Splinter but harsher & more stressed,

mask inspiration: Shīsā

── .✦ Mikey!

the same as he is in-canon, although way more energetic and clingy (especially with Raph), likes to move around like a monkey,

leaves the lair basically all the time, whether it be with Donnie & Leo, or by himself

the most social out of the 4, has a lot of friends in the hidden city and a few on the surface,

powerhouse, usually the one running mystic powers training for everyone,

literally just mikey,

mask inspiration: Kitsune

── .✦ Donnie!

still the tech guy, experiments a lot with mystic energy, does research on mystic powers,

always in his lab, unless he has a reason to leave,

anti-social, prefers spending time with his brothers & April

brains + a bit of brawn, second in command,

personality of 2k12!Raph combined with rise!Donnie,

mask inspiration: Oni

── .✦ Leo!

this bad boy can fit SO much trauma in him, cockiest bastard in the hidden city,

leaves the lair often, likes to go watch the battle nexus,

likes socializing, but makes more enemies than friends,

leader, face man, professional boyfailure & team medic,

rise!Leo turned up to 11 with a villainous edge (aka the other type of edgy to not cope with trauma),

mask inspiration: Oni

── .✦ April!

same as in-canon, a bit more jaded due to her history with the guys, big sis 24/7,

visits the lair any time she can,

socializes a lot to gather intel in case the guys need it,

unofficial 5th member of the mystic menaces,

basically rise!April still,

mask inspiration: TBA

── .✦ Draxum & Splinter!

unaccounted for just yet >:3

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ EXTRA!

originally i wanted to make this au solely because i wanted to traumatize leo the least but well here we are where he is the main character yet again oops

i will make a fanfic for this at some point along with maybe a few comics, but that'll be way in the future, so i humbly ask for your patience. if you wanna see any kinds of updates, tho, you can follow my bluesky! i post wips there sometimes :33

THANK YOU FOR READING!!! X]]

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bones4thecats · 10 months ago

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Their Aku! S/O Competing in Ragnarok

Characters: Beelzebub, Adamas, and Loki Inspired By: A random video on Youtube A/N: I love Aku. He's literally my favorite character in the whole series. Anyways, enjoy I guess. ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Nothing (maybe mentions of fighting... idk) ⚠️ What I based the Reader's design on: Art by pachelbellart on Reddit (Original Post)

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Beelzebub ═════════════════════════════╝

🪰 As a well-known demon lord that once ruled Earth many centuries ago, your power was something that many wanted for themselves

🪰 Beelzebub and you were hailed for your differentiated personalities; you were far more outgoing and outspoken while he was more introverted and quiet

🪰 So, when you were both called upon for Ragnarok, you happily popped out of the shadows and accepted the opportunity to battle a human just so you could embarrass them and remind everyone why you were called the Shogun of Sorrow

🪰 Your husband walked alongside you as you both sat down and watched the many rounds, and while he busied himself with something since he found it boring at first, you smiled and cheered for the Gods as they fought

🪰 As you were called by Zeus for your round, you smiled at your husband and noticed how he put his data-pad down and allowed you to kiss his forehead, and how he wished you luck

🪰 The sound of Heimdall's horn coming through the arena made the many members look up and either shiver with fear or shake with joy as the mention of the fighters

"Introducing the defender of humanity, the Japanese Warrior Prince who once defeated one of the strongest forces of evil the world ever faced, the Samurai, the anti-Shogun of Sorrow, and the one nicknamed by those he defended... Samurai Jack!"

🪰 A human walked into the field and Beelzebub noticed how his kimono flowed in the wind alongside a cherry blossom tree nearby

"And defending the Gods and going against Humanity's rule once again, it is my mass pleasure to welcome the Deliverer of Darkness, the Shogun of Sorrow, the Master of Darkness, and the Dark Lord... Y/N!"

🪰 The sight of a large mass of darkness appearing from above made everyone stare, including Beelzebub. The sloppy-darkness splat down on the ground and began to mold itself into a familiar figure

🪰 Your long flame-like hair and eyebrows were the first thing that everyone took notice of, especially Jack. The way you smiled, holding up a half-oni mask making him grit his teeth lightly

"Samurai fool. I figured I wouldn't see you for quite some time. How fortunate for me that our paths have crossed once again." You laughed.

🪰 Beelzebub smirked as you pulled your mask and put it on before raising your left hand and molding it into claws while your other one revealed a sharp tekko kagi, moving around like the flames you produced naturally

"I shall defeat you once again, Y/N. And protect Humanity the same why I did all those years ago."

"We shall see about that, Jack."

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Adamas ═══════════════════════════════╝

🥀 You guys were one of the most powerful duos when it came to immortal-relationships. From his bloodthirstiness to your manipulative nature, almost all feared you guys

🥀 When he began watching Ragnarok and heard that you were going to be sent in as the newest addition to the Gods' Fighters, since Apollo decided to stand down, saying his beauty was far to important, he was beyond scared

🥀 He already lost two of his brothers, the youngest being the only survivor of the competition, he didn't want to lose his spouse next

🥀 Adamas ran up to you and yelled your name, making you turn around and look at his face, seeing how it contort into a more frustrated expression instead of his usual stoic one

"What were you thinking?! Going into a dangerous event, nonetheless Ragnarok without coming to me first?!"

"I'm sorry, Adamas. But last I knew, you were barely standing up in your new cybernetic body! Besides, I'm not doing this for the bloodshed. I was promised a fight to win no matter what, a fight to revoke the pain that I was dealt all those years ago on Earth."

🥀 He noticed how you bunched your hands into fists as your fanged teeth gritted together in anger, and he knew exactly what you were talking about now

"You're going against the Samurai, aren't you?"

"Correct."

🥀 Instead of getting angrier, Adamas sighed and laid a hand on your shoulder, making you face him with your flaming hair and eyebrows beginning to go down to resemble a calming campfire

🥀 He wished you luck and kissed your nose as you held his hand and kissed his palm in return before melting and moving down the many hallways towards the entrance into the arena for your fight

🥀 Adamas walked back to his stand alongside his brother, Zeus, and nephew, Hermes, and waited as he listened intently to Hermes' predictions for the battle. Thankfully, they were all in your favor

🥀 While Heimdall yelled the introduction of Samurai Jack, he rolled his eyes and began to pat his fingers against the railing in annoyance before yelling for him to hurry up, making the Nordic God jump and quickly say the human's name

🥀 But, when he said your introduction, he just allowed his smile to get larger and more smug as he continued with your many names, and sense of pride of being married to you flowing through his body

"Oh, Samurai Fool. What a funny coincidence to be fighting you today. I was just daydreaming about tearing you apart, maybe now I can make that dream of mine a nightmare for you and the rest of your foolish kind."

"I will not give into your manipulative wording, Y/N."

"We'll see about that, Jackie."

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Loki ═════════════════════════════════╝

🐍 Local psycho couple? Local psycho couple.

🐍 You guys are feared by almost all, the only not fearing you being those of Chief God's ranking or those like Poseidon and Thor. And despite the fact that many others fear you, you always found a way to make them listen to you

🐍 Loki adored your manipulative nature, the way you could make somebody do your bidding easily was something he adored

🐍 But, when you came by and said you were chosen to fight in Ragnarok, he was surprisingly chill with it. He was very confident with your ability to defeat any human that challenged you

🐍 He floated down from his tree and patted the ground next to him, signalling for you to sit down next to him. And instead of turning away like you would for others, you smiled and sat next to him

"Do you know who you're fighting?" He asked, a curios-yet cheery tone coming out of his throat.

"Yep. I'm fighting that Samurai from when I ruled Earth. Y'know, the one with that damn pure blade that could harm me."

"Oh yeah, that thing!"

»–•–«

"Y/N! You're up next to fight!"

🐍 Standing up from your seat, you patted your husband's head as he happily swung side to side while your nails scratched his scalp before you left

🐍 As he sat up to pay more attention, Thor and Odin conversed on how the fight would go, to which Thor praised your skill in mental warfare while Odin just nodded along, his birds voicing their hopes in your win for him

🐍 Loki smiled as Heimdall began his small rant on you, letting your multitude of names coming out of his mouth and into the ears of all there

🐍 The mischievous God began to laugh as you spoke to the Samurai, oh how much he loved you and your spirit~

"Y/N. I shall not allow you to lay harm to another generation of humans."

"Oh, what a brave claim, Samurai." You then yelled in anger, "Fool! Just because you defeated me once while you lived doesn't mean you'll defeat me again after life."

"We shall see."

"Yes, we shall." You laughed.

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baizhoobies · 5 months ago

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𝐎𝐧𝐢 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲…?

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕

Synopsis: f!Reader somehow finds herself trapped in the spirit realm. Whoops. She entrusts the help of a Yokai Detective Agency to get her back to the mortal realm where she belongs. Wait? A detective agency? In the spirit realm? And the only way of escape is to work with a disgruntled and hot headed Oni who is somehow spiritually bound to her? Sheesh.

A multichapter, Kamisama Kiss inspired story with your favourite Bungo man. Or at least, my favourite ~

Warnings: 18+, eventual smut, violence, swearing, blood mention, monsterfucking, knotting, ruts, omegaverse vibes, breeding

A/N: ooh boy. The big one. Merry Christmas and happy holidays!

Chapter Warnings: 18+!!!!!! Smut, swearing, monsterfucking, knotting, ruts, omegaverse vibes, breeding kink, scent kink? Cunnilingus, talks of pregnancy, wrap it up!

Masterlist

The days trickled by with an agonizing slowness. You could feel the weight of the ticking clock - 15 more days until you could return to the mortal realm. You reminded yourself often that this was what you wanted, what you needed. As much as you had enjoyed your time in the spirit realm, you felt a sense of duty, an obligation to return back to the mortal realm; your family and friends were there, your old life, everything.

Despite going over things logically, the pang of belonging tugged at you. Only 15 days in the spirit realm and you felt right at home. From the culture, the sights, the food the…company, everything seemed better to you. Perhaps it was the fact you didn’t have to do much work, getting three meals a day, heck, you started to no longer miss the sun. All that, coupled with Kunikida, the Oni who has helped you throughout your time here, the one who (despite having a piss poor attitude) was always by your side; you almost got used to it.

But the thought felt heavier than it should, especially when Kunikida was being so... distant.

He wasn’t being cold in the traditional sense. Kunikida still made your meals, ensured that you were safe, and stuck to his annoyingly rigid routines. But there was a chill in his interactions, a deliberate avoidance that gnawed at you. Especially when he started wearing a face mask, claiming he was ‘feeling under the weather’.

It was like this for a fair few days, although Kunikida had to stay by your side, he tried to keep as much distance between you as possible. Leaving breakfast at the foot of the futon, making sure he walks several steps in front or behind you, he even managed to get you doing a few jobs at the office as to stay away from you as much as possible. Whenever you tried to talk to him, he would face away, covering his hand over his mask and said some shit like ‘I don’t want you to catch this’ - not that you actually thought it was possible, considering he was an Oni, and you, a human.

Today, though, Kunikida seemed worse. His movements were stiff, his breathing shallow, and sweat beaded on his forehead. Even with the mask, his complexion looked pale, a sharp contrast to his usual robust energy.

“Kunikida, you look awful” you said bluntly as you watched him attempt to prepare your breakfast.

“I’m fine” he snapped, though his voice lacked its usual bite. “This is nothing.”

“Right,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “Because sweating buckets and wobbling on your feet is just a regular Wednesday for you.”

He ignored you, though you caught the way his hands trembled as he poured tea.

“Kunikida” you said again, softer this time. “You’re not okay. You should stay home today and rest.”

“I can’t,” he replied tightly. “There’s work to be done. We can’t afford to waste time.”

At this point, your frustration boiled over. “You’re not even human! You don’t get sick like humans do, I think, so what’s actually going on with you? And don’t say it’s nothing.”

His grip tightened on the teapot, the muscles in his jaw clenching visibly. “Drop it, Y/N.”

“No,” you spoke firmly, standing tall in attempts to look authoritative towards the pesky Oni. “If you won’t listen to reason, then I’ll just have to make you.” You took a step closer, locking eyes with him. “I order you to stay home and take a sick day. Rest.”

Kunikida froze, the weight of the spirit bond making your command impossible to ignore. He glared at you, his hazel eyes burning with frustration.

“You’re abusing that bond” he spoke through gritted teeth.

“I’m keeping you from collapsing in the middle of the street,” you shoot back. “Big difference.”

He sighed heavily, setting the teapot down with more force than necessary. “Fine. One day. But don’t expect me to enjoy this.”

Later that morning, true to your word, you made sure Kunikida stayed in his room, much to his irritation. You had him lying down, which he insisted he lay on his yoga mat, his default - you couldn’t help but notice how uncomfortable he looked. His tall frame didn’t fit well on the narrow mat, and he shifted restlessly.

“You know, you could use the bed” you offered as you placed a damp cloth on his forehead.

“I’m fine here” he spat, his voice muffled slightly by the mask.

“Right. Because the image of you passed out on the floor is so reassuring” you replied sarcastically.

Kunikida didn’t respond, but you caught the flicker of a frown beneath the mask. All you could do was sigh and sit back on your heels as you looked down at the pitiful Oni. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Better than being reckless” he muttered.

“Reckless?” You repeated, raising an eyebrow. “How is asking you to take care of yourself reckless?”

“It’s not about me,” he said, his voice strained. “I have responsibilities, to the agency, to you. I can’t afford to be weak.”

You frowned at this, your frustration softening into something more sympathetic. “Kunikida, even superheroes take sick days. You’re not a machine.”

He closed his eyes, his breathing uneven. For a moment, you thought he might argue again, but instead, he simply lay still.

As the morning wore on, you busied yourself with small tasks such as tidying up the already meticulous room, bringing him water, and checking his temperature. All the while you would notice his occasional glances in your direction, though he quickly looked away whenever you caught him.

By the time lunch rolled around, Kunikida seemed marginally better, though his fever hadn’t completely broken. You brought him a bowl of rice porridge, your attempts at cooking in the spirit realm improving slightly under his earlier tutelage.

“Eat” you instructed, handing him the bowl.

He sat up slowly, taking the bowl with a reluctant nod. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome” you said, sitting down across from him. You notice that his hands were still shaky and he would avert his gaze; at least he was eating though.

You ate in silence for a while, the tension between you less sharp than usual. You watched him carefully, noting the faint lines of fatigue around his eyes.

“Can I ask you something?” You ventured.

He looked up, wary. “What?”

“Why are you so hard on yourself?”

He stiffened, his grip on the bowl tightening. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do,” you said gently. “You push yourself so much, and for what? You can’t save everyone, Kunikida. No one can.”

His expression darkened, and for a moment, you thought he might shut you out again. But then he sighed, setting the bowl aside.

“It’s not about saving everyone,” he said quietly. “It’s about living up to the ideals I’ve set for myself. If I can’t even do that, then what’s the point?”

You frown again, feeling your heart aching at the weight he carried. “You’re allowed to falter, you know. It doesn’t make you any less worthy.”

He didn’t respond, his gaze distant.

“Just... think about it,” you said softly, reaching out a hand to touch his. He welcomed it, only momentarily until his instincts swiftly pulled away. You put it down to the sickness, he puts it down to restraint. Which all of this is. Having you here in his home whilst he enters a rut is dangerous, and micro-dosing you seems to be helping, but being an Oni deep in a rut, it won’t last.

Whilst you helped him, he was figuring out ways on how to remove you from his home whilst he gets through this rut. Maybe next door? Maybe just hold out until you have to go to the mortal realm where you belong? But 15 days is such a long time away.

‘The mortal realm’ he recalls in his mind, in 15 days you’ll be gone. Thats a good thing. Can’t attach himself to you, regardless of being able to pass to and from the spirit and mortal realm. It would be selfish to keep you, especially when the both of you are so deep in denial, it’s almost comical.

No matter how strong his urges are, he has to be distant, he has to uphold his ideals he has to.

Lunch had passed in a rare atmosphere of peace. Kunikida lay slumped back against the wall, his golden eyes half-lidded from exhaustion. You sat cross-legged on the floor, tidying up the tray you’d brought in earlier.

Your gaze drifted to him, watching how his broad shoulders heaved with labored breaths. The yoga mat beneath him was woefully inadequate - thin and rumpled, hardly suitable for someone of his size.

“You know” you started casually, “you’re going to wake up with a bad back if you keep lying on that thing.”

“I’m fine” he muttered, his voice still hoarse.

You rolled your eyes. “You keep saying that, but it’s painfully obvious that you’re not.”

“It’s not your concern” he replied gruffly, turning his head away, a bead of sweat rolls down his forehead. The rut is getting worse by the second.

“Oh, but it is my concern” you said with a mischievous glint in your eye. “Thanks to this lovely spirit bond, remember?”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond.

You stood, dusting off your hands before pointing to the bed. “Alright, that’s it. I order you to get on the bed. Now.”

His head snapped toward you, eyes narrowing. “What?”

“You heard me,” you said, crossing your arms. “Get on the bed. You’re supposed to be resting, not punishing yourself on that glorified piece of cardboard.”

His expression darkened, though the bond had already begun to work its magic. Begrudgingly, he pushed himself up, his movements slow and deliberate as he made his way to the futon.

“This is ridiculous” he grumbled under his breath, sitting stiffly on the edge of the mattress.

“You’re welcome” you quipped, sitting beside him. “See? Much better.”

He huffed, glaring at the wall and edging away from you. He covers his mouth, even with the mask. You think he’d cough but he didn’t. It was your intoxicating smell again. Oh your scent, soft and unmistakably yours, was intoxicating, his Alpha instincts clamoring for more; coupled with the fact you are both sitting on his bed. He could just pounce on you, how he would…

Instead, he shuffled under the covers and hid his face, this great and powerful Oni was acting like a wounded dog.

You put it down to him being dramatic like he usually is.

“Alright, mister grumpy” you say in a sing-song way, standing up and reaching for the damp cloth you’d set aside earlier. “Let’s cool you down again.”

“I don’t need-”

“Shh.” You placed the cloth gently against his forehead, ignoring his protests.

His body tensed under your touch, the warmth of your proximity making his fevered state even harder to bear.

“Why are you so stubborn?” You asked, breaking the silence, sitting on the edge of his futon.

“Why are you so insistent?” he shot back, though his tone lacked its usual bite.

“Because someone has to be,” you replied with a smirk. “You’re hopeless when it comes to taking care of yourself.”

Kunikida frowned, his gaze shifting to the floor. “I’m not used to this” he admitted quietly.

You blinked, surprised by the uncharacteristic vulnerability in his voice. “Used to what?”

“Being taken care of,” he said, his hands clenching into fists. “I’ve always been the one responsible. The one who... fixes things. It’s not my place to burden others.”

Your heart softened at his words, whats with him today? You’ve never seen him so vulnerable. After days of him pushing you out, putting up those walls, he is being so... open?

“Kunikida, that’s not how this works. Taking care of someone doesn’t mean they’re a burden. It just means... you care.”

He turned to look at you, his hazel eyes searching yours. For a moment, the tension between you shifted, something unspoken passing in the space between.

As the silence stretched, Kunikida found his hand moving almost of its own accord, reaching toward yours. The sight of you sitting so close, your gentle expression, your warmth - it was all too much. He wanted to feel the comfort of your touch, to anchor himself to something real amidst the chaos of his instincts.

But as his fingers hovered above yours, his Alpha senses flared. The thought of holding your hand - of touching you - was too tempting, too dangerous. His rut was already simmering beneath the surface, threatening to overtake him.

He pulled back sharply, clenching his fist to steady himself.

“Is something wrong?” You asked, your voice tinged with concern. This isn’t the first time you noticed him staring, threatening to touch you but to no avail.

“No” he said quickly, his tone harsher than intended. “Nothing’s wrong.”

You furrowed a brow, studying him. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m fine” he said, though the words sounded hollow even to him.

You sighed, leaning back slightly. “You know, for someone who claims to have everything under control, you’re kind of a mess.”

“Excuse me?” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“You heard me” you said with a teasing grin. “A mess. But don’t worry, I’ve got it covered.”

Despite himself, Kunikida felt the corner of his mouth twitch, hidden under his mask. You had a way of disarming him, of making him feel seen in a way that was both terrifying and... grounding.

As you busied yourself tidying the room from lunch, you couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye. Despite your constant bickering, there was something undeniably endearing about him - the way he carried himself, the weight of his ideals, the quiet strength beneath his gruff exterior.

And as you watched him, lying there with his golden hair tousled and his usual composure stripped away, a thought began to creep into your mind.

Were you falling for him?

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, your heart skipping a beat. Shaking your head, you pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.

Kunikida lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes. The fever had ebbed slightly after lunch, but the pressure in his chest, the searing heat in his veins, remained relentless.

His body screamed for something he couldn’t allow himself to take, something forbidden and dangerous. And you were right there, *right there*, separated from him by nothing more than a flimsy curtain.

Through the thin fabric, he could see your curvy silhouette in the kitchen, busy washing up the dishes from lunch. You hummed softly, a sound that inexplicably sent warmth spiraling through him. Kunikida clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms as he tried to quell the rush of primal instincts clawing at his resolve. Minute by minute he could feel the blood rush to his cock, it was maddening.

‘You can’t do this’ he told himself. ‘She’s human. She’s temporary. And you’re supposed to have self-control.’

But that control was slipping fast. The air between you was saturated with your essence, stirring his Alpha instincts into a frenzy. He turned his face into the pillow, willing himself to sleep it off, only to be met with more of your scent from when you slept in the bed the night before. Maybe he could subtly get himself off to your smell on his pillow.

Kunikida self indulgently bucked his hips into the duvet, nose pressed into your pillow as he slowly pulled the mask off the bridge of his nose all the way down until it came completely off, his defences broken, and all he is, is a whimpering mess sniffing your pillow.

However, this momentary bliss was cut short as a sudden sound jolted him upright - a clatter of something hitting the floor, followed by a soft curse. Through the curtain, he saw you reach for a towel, clearly having spilled water on yourself.

“Great,” you muttered, lifting the damp hem of your shirt. “Nice going, Y/N. Real smooth.”

He should have looked away. He knew he should have, but his body refused to listen. Instead, he found himself transfixed as you - thinking no one was watching - pulled the shirt over your head, revealing smooth, glistening skin beneath. The moment his eyes gazed upon your plump breasts hidden under a wet bra, that was it. That was the moment his restraint snapped.

Before you could even process the cool air against your skin, you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist, pulling you back against a solid, searing heat.

“Kunikida-?!” You gasped, your voice faltering as his breath ghosted against the nape of your neck.

He buried his face there, inhaling deeply, his grip tightening as his hand find and cup your breasts, groping and kneading them like fresh dough. “Stop” he murmured, though it sounded more like a plea than a command. “Ask me to stop, command me to stop.”

“I-I don’t?” You asked, voice trembling.

“Please,” he growled lowly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I can’t hold back any longer.” His fingers snaked into your bra, pulling free your pillowy tits as he marvelled at both size and weight of them. You didn’t pull away, not try to stop him. For whatever reason, his possessiveness and his rawness has you weak at the knees, whimpering as the pads of his thumbs meet and draw circles over your nipples.

“Kunikida, I can’t… I…what’s going on? I thought you were sick.”

“I’m not sick,” he said, his voice a mix of control and desperation. “It’s my rut.”

Your eyes widened, mind racing as pieces fell into place. The fever, the tension, the odd behaviour - it all made sense now. Oh lord, it reminded you of all those fan fictions you’d read before, but now happening to you.

He lifted his head slightly, hazel eyes dark and clouded with something primal. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his tone steadier now but no less intense as he gives your breasts another harsh squeeze, eliciting a louder moan from you. “It’s dangerous.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” You whimpered.

“Because,” he said, his voice dropping to a rough whisper, “you’re already too tempting as it is. Use your spirit bond, order me away and I can deal with it alone. Tell me to stop touching you…”

Your pulse quickened, the weight of his words sinking in. You felt the warmth of his breath against her ear, the strength of his hold, his cock pressed against your ass - he was a tall ass Oni with equipment that matched the size of him, and more. The throb between your legs gets stronger as you can feel him rut into you, needy and desperate - he was too far gone, and so were you.

“No...” you started, your voice hesitant and filled with arousal. “I can help.”

His grip on your waist faltered for a split second before tightening again. “Y/N…” he warned, his voice thick with conflicted emotion “Master…”

You turned your head slightly to see his eyes, his pupils fully dilated as he succumbs to his instincts. “I mean it” you said, your voice steadier now, a mix of curiosity and determination.

Kunikida’s eyes darkened further, his inner battle clearly visible in the tense line of his jaw. For a moment, he looked like he might say something, but instead, he closed his eyes, exhaling sharply.

“I want- no, need you. But don’t offer things you don’t understand” he said, his tone laced with warning, though his grip didn’t loosen as his restraint teeters on the edge of control.

“But I do,” you challenged softly, your own heart thundering in your chest. “This is an order. Let me help you through your rut”

The room was thick with tension, your words hanging in the air like a fragile thread.

And then, silence.

It took a good while to register what happens next. One moment you were standing in the kitchen, half naked and slightly soaked from washing up, the next you are laying on your back on his futon, the weight of a 7ft Oni pressed against you with your legs wrapped around his waist; the past few minutes a total blur.

You’ve never seen Kunikida act in such a way, from a refined perfectionist to a feral creature that can only be compared to a true Yokai; aggressive, powerful and unyielding. Whatever clothes you had on had all but disappeared aside from your bra and underwear, but even then your breasts were uncupped, free for this Oni to devour; and devour he did.

Kunikida spoke no words other than whisper in an ancient language to himself like a prayer as he nipped, tugged and worshipped your breasts with great need, squishing the flesh against his face like he had to survive.

“Kunikida…” you could only moan his name as he ravaged your mounds, pinching and rolling a nipple between his fingers and teeth, drunk on your body already; and he wasn’t even inside yet.

“Doppo. Call me Doppo, master” he rumbled a correction, ever since you granted your body to him, the spirit bond and the primal need to mate combined had made you his master, his little goddess in the sheets. And like a goddess, he praised. Every whisper, every low grumble, in the common tongue or the language of yokai, it was all praise. Finally, you were in his grasp, finally after what seemed to him like an eternity.

“You have no idea…” Kunikida began, moving his face away from your tits to bury it into the nook of your neck. “What you do to me. How dare you stumble into this world and into my bed” he curses you finally, after such blissful praise.

He pulls up to look at you, meeting his angry, horny and possessed eyes. His face is glowing from the heat of his rut, and you could swear his features had shifted, more Oni like. Kunikida was on the cusp of madness, unsure whether to lash out or cry from the intensity.

With his eyes never leaving yours, his hand then travels down your body and smooths two fingers over your quivering pussy, conceived behind some pitifully wet panties. You don’t know who shuddered more, you or him at the sensation. His hand dwarfing yours, as he savoured the feeling on the pads of his fingers, bringing them up to his lips and sucking on his digits.

“Fuck you. All my life planned out and you just had to go and fuck it up”

“Kunikida I’m s-“

Kunikida interrupts you by ramming his fingers he was sucking just a few moments ago into your mouth, watching you gag and whimper from his roughness.

“Let me fucking finish” he commanded, his angry cock smoothing over the wetness of your panties, frictionless, and begging for entry. As an Oni deep in a rut, his cock was almost inhuman, larger than a human with bumps and ridgets that rubbed sinfuly, you wondered however it will fit. Not that you could really think about it, with him pinned hard against his bed, his fingers in your mouth. “Fucking brat. I had my life planned, had my spouse planned but oh no, 15 fucking days and I am hooked, fucking hooked. And for the last time, its Doppo to you, understand?”

You could only nod as Kunikida rambled on, removing his fingers from your mouth as he places either leg on his shoulders so that your pussy was in his face. For a moment he breaths, eyes closed and engraving this scent into his very being. God you were the worst, this must be what the humans call hell, but how delicious this hell was.

“You undo me” he spoke, licking a stripe over your clothed folds and moaning deeply, allowing himself some sort of control in the moment to enjoy the sensations he craved ever since meeting you. “And now, I will undo you”

And with that, his sharp nails rip away your panties leaving you totally exposed to his tongue, which was also inhumanly large. As if by Oni magic, his prehensile tongue dives into you with an unrelenting force, starved a man he is as he stretches your tight hole. You could only cover your face, looking through your fingers as the Oni grips your hips, pulling him closer and deeper into your pussy. Not only all of this, you could feel something within you change, something warm like a soft buzz that radiated all the way into your womb.

“Fuck! Doppo, what is that?”

“Oni magic. Its to make sure you are prepared to take me” he spoke as his tongue moved from clit to hole to clit again, much like Kunikida, his movements were precise, almost practiced to ensure your pleasure. It must be his Alpha, instincts, or Oni instincts, whatever it was, he was working your abused pussy to the brink. “I cannot have my mate in pain”

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” You slurred out through babbled moans and whimpers, not exactly hearing what he has to say when his tongue is working your pussy this good. Through your hands, you watched him like a man possessed, praising you with his eyes and his mouth as you neared your impending orgasm.

Feeling you twitch around his tongue which had curled and massaged a particular spot, an arrogant grin crept to his face as he remained there, feeling you edge, edge edge…

“Doppo! Fuck!” You scrunched your eyes as your legs twitch and tremble violently until a single flick of his tongue to your clit had sent you over that dreaded edge. Your juices had squirted right on his tongue, into his mouth and covering his chin.

Lowering your legs, he lets you have a moments respite as you covered your face with pure drunken bliss, panting like a dog. He admired his craft, smoothing two hands over your torso, cupping your breasts and giving them a squeeze.

“What is it? Your bratty mouth ain’t got nothing to say?” He teased, squeezing you again.

“Fuck you”

“No, fuck you” he chuckled darkly, spreading your legs as if opening a holy scroll, eyes watching at each sensitive twitch of your cunt, knowing whats going to happen. “I don’t know if I can hold back any longer, knowing what you taste like” he warned.

For a brief moment, the madness in his eyes softened, almost caring despite being in the thick of it. You took advantage and reached up, needing him closer to you, to take you, but you’d want it your way.

“Then don’t, thats an order”

And as swift as he was before when you made the order, Kunikida’s hands grabbed at your hips and pressed the fat tip of his cock against your entrance; oh how he wanted to savour it, how he wanted to do this slowly so he could truly enjoy the moment, but he can’t, not in this rut.

Lunging forward, every thick, veiny inch stretched your hole open as he bottomed out balls deep inside of you. His bulbous head crushing your cervix, and in normal circumstances, this would hurt like a mother fucker, but whatever Oni magic he used, it felt like pure, unadulterated bliss.

“Fu-uck” the Oni moans out, strangled as he feels the pain of restraint fizzle away. He wasn’t expecting such an easy entry, and yet, there you were, the perfect girl opened wide and speared on his cock.

You reached forward and pulled at his horns, bringing him in for a messy kiss as his hips gyrate slightly so you could get used to his size. Kunikida obliged, tongue twining with yours as his thrusts become more confident, more needy.

The obscene noises made from each push, every wet slap of skin had both your minds hazy and desperate for more. Once again, his rut took hold and his hips were no longer this own, driven by the insanity that is his instincts to mate, to breed.

“Gunna breed this pussy, this -fuck- mine, all fucking mine” he growls under his breath in between kisses, slamming into you with purpose. You heard him, but you couldn’t process his words, too lost in your own pleasure as he fills you up continuously with his red Oni cock. Luckily, his bed was a futon, because he knows if this were a bed with legs, the two of you would have broken it.

“Y’feel that, master?” He hums, pulling away so that he can take a good look at your fucked out face, he gestures to bulge forming at the base of his cock; his knot. “I’m gunna fucking knot you, y’hear?”

Your eyes widen as if breaking the spell of ascension, you are grounded by his boating, by his knot forming, stretching you even wider. Your only response was moans and various curse words, which didn’t satisfy him at all.

“I said,” Kunikida pulls out momentarily and flips you onto your front before filling you once again and again. The new position allowed him to reach deeper, granting his knot entrance into you, and of course, the source of your bonding; the back of your neck. “I’m gunna fuckin’ knot you, knock you up. You’d like that pretty human?”

At this angle, he is able to lean forward, arching your back almost painfully as he thud thud thuds against your cervix, his mouth finally making its way to the nape of your neck, licking the salty sweat that beads down, tempting him, inviting him to bite.

“Y-yes! Fuck pleasepleaseplease” you begged, the knot inflating more and more inside you so that each pull out was becoming more and more impossible. It didn’t stop him though, slamming into you with all his might, with his black nails digging into the fat of your ass as if you would escape him. Every time he pulled out, the tightness of your walls only sucked him back in, the pleasure almost nauseating.

“Is that an order?” He whispered in your ear, hitting that same spot over and over.

“Yes” you babbled out, barely able to speak from the pillow you had buried your face in. Kunikida reaches forward and clasps a hand around your throat to lift your face, hearing more and more of those beautiful moans he had so wished to hear.

“I can’t hear you, master”

“Fuck!! Please, Doppo, thats an order!! Please please knot me, knock me up!” you cried, tears running down your face as you tried your best to speak. Your pussy gripped him tightly and he cursed out, ramming into you one last time as his knot locks you in place. He finds that delicious spot on your neck, biting down with feral need and piercing your skin with his fangs.

“Fuck!” You cried once more, from both pleasure and pain as your womb is pumped full of copious amounts of thick, Oni seed. Kunikida was driven beyond insanity, never letting your neck go as he could feel ropes upon ropes spill into you, hot and full of him.

This lasted a full 2 minutes.

After a little while, Kunikida finally let go of your neck, licking the droplets of blood from your wound and kissed them like you were precious. The post nut clarity kicking in as he realised what he’s just done; you are now his, he now yours, beyond the spirit bond contract.

He held you for a little eternity before rolling to his side, his knot taking you with him as he laid with you, burying his face where he had bit you and continuously kissing the spot as a silent apology.

The world cleared in your mind as you regained conscious thought. What the fuck did you just do? You allowed an Oni to mark you, just as you thought you would be rid of him in a fortnight, you had given your entire being to him.

As much as it frightened you, all of his tender kisses and affections eased any worry; even just a little. You were warm, you were safe, you were…happy.

The room was heavy with the aftermath of your union, the air thick with a new, undeniable bond.

Your fingers brushed the faint wound on your neck as your mind swirled with everything that had just happened. You tilted your head slightly, wincing at the sting on your neck.

“Does it hurt?” Kunikida’s voice was softer now, but there was an edge of concern as his hazel eyes flickered down to where you brushed at your wound.

“A little,” you admitted, running your fingers absently over the spot. “You have sharp teeth, you know.”

Kunikida huffed, his lips twitching into a rare smile. “I wasn’t exactly in full control of myself.”

“Understatement of the century” you teased, your voice light despite the lingering tension in your chest.

“You’re hardly innocent in this” he retorted, but there was no venom in his words, just the usual bickering that now felt more like home than annoyance.

You turn your face slightly to him, your gaze locking with his. “I suppose that makes us even.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Kunikida’s hand rested on your stomach which had bulged with the sheer size of his cock and knot, his thumb drawing slow, deliberate circles against your skin. The contact was grounding, comforting in a way that surprised you both.

“You realize,” he began, his voice quieter now, “we barely know each other.”

“And yet here we are,” you said softly, your lips quirking up into a small smile. “You’re stuck with me now, Oni-boy.”

Kunikida chuckled lowly, a sound so rare it made your heart skip a beat. “Don’t remind me. I was just starting to enjoy the thought of getting rid of you.”

“Charming” you raised your brows. “Though I am surprised, you spent the last two weeks lecturing me about rules, traditions, and how annoying I am. And yet you choose me as your mate?”

“You are annoying,” he muttered, though the faintest blush spread across his cheeks. “But… I suppose you’re also tolerable. Occasionally.”

“Tolerable?!” You feigned annoyance, “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me. Be still, my heart.”

Kunikida groaned, covering his face into your neck. “This is exactly why I preferred you asleep.”

Your laughter rang through the room, warm and bright. You reached for his arm and brought his hand to your lips for a quick kiss. “You’re not so bad yourself” you murmured.

After a moment of silence, Kunikida spoke again. “I meant what I said,” he said quietly, his usual stern tone softened. “You’re mine now, Y/N. Not because of the spirit bond, but because of this.” His fingers brushed the fresh mark on your neck, reverence in his touch.

“And you’re mine” you replied, your voice steady despite the weight of your words.

His hazel eyes darkened, and for a moment. “Do you regret it?”

You paused, considering. You thought of your family, the mortal realm, everything you’d left behind - and then you thought of him. The way he held you, the way his guarded nature softened just enough to let you in. And it wasn’t exactly like you couldn’t visit the mortal realm and see your family and friends again, but it would just be different.

“No,” you said finally, your voice resolute. “Do you?”

Kunikida didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled you closer, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of your head. “No,” he murmured against your hair. “It feels… right. You feel right.”

You closed your eyes, letting his words wash over you. For the first time since you fell into the well, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

“I guess we’ll figure the rest out,” you said, your tone light but laced with meaning.

“We will” he agreed, his voice firm.

A content silence fell again, your bodies still locked into place. You didn’t bother asking how long the two of you were going to be like this for, mostly because you didn’t care. You relished this feeling, this warmth and this comfort.

As the quiet stretched on, Kunikida’s voice broke the comfortable stillness. “Just one other thing,” he said, his tone carrying that familiar weight of seriousness, “that after what we’ve done, raising our young will be a priority.”

You, who had been trailing your fingers lazily along his forearm, froze. You lifted your head to look at him, your mouth opening and closing as if trying to find the right words. “Our… young?”

“Yes.” His eyes met yours, completely earnest. “It’s only natural. Ensuring their future would be the next logical step. I’ve always envisioned how I’d raise them - structured, disciplined, with proper values and-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” you interrupted, holding up a hand. Your lips twitched, caught somewhere between laughter and sheer panic. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Oni-boy.”

Kunikida frowned, his brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

You sighed, lifting up your arm. You tapped the small, barely noticeable bump beneath your skin with a sheepish grin. “This little miracle of modern medicine? Contraceptive implant. So… no young. Not anytime soon, anyway.”

For a moment, Kunikida just stared, his expression unreadable. Then, with a deep exhale, his entire being relaxed. Relief flashed across his face, but it was quickly replaced by something else - mild disappointment, tinged with the faintest hue of frustration.

“Well,” he muttered, his voice gruff, “I suppose that simplifies things for now.”

You bit back a laugh at his conflicted tone. “I’m flattered, really. But maybe let’s take it one step at a time? I just became an honorary Oni, after all.”

Kunikida shot you a pointed look. “The moment you return to the mortal realm,” he said, his tone firm but laced with exasperation, “we are getting that thing removed.”

“Sure thing,” you teased, grinning as you wiggled your hips slightly to get comfortable in his embrace. “Right after I make an appointment for a vasectomy for you.”

His groan of exasperation was drowned out by your teasing laughter. Though you bickered like usual, the bond between you was stronger than ever - unshakable, undeniable, and all yours.

#bungo stray dogs #bsd kunikida #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs kunikida #kunikida x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #doppo kunikida #kunikida doppo x reader

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undercovergamer · 2 years ago

Text

❤️“Squeaky Toy” Who?❤️

(I know, fantastic banner again, thank you, /lh /sarc)

⚠️This fic focuses mainly on tickling. Do not read it if that upsets you.⚠️also contains kisses, one swear and arms being held at some point so beware⚠️

Basically, it was time for bed. Time to sleep. Gorou was ready to drift off to dream land, but unfortunately for him, Itto was full of mischief rather than sleepiness.

wee bit of inspiration from @duckymcdoorknob hehehe

Word Count: 3314

It was time for bed and Gorou was very sleepy. The only problem was that Itto wasn’t. He was full of energy and claimed to not need sleep yet, but this wasn’t unusual. Gorou knew he’d calm down enough to go to sleep eventually, so he wasn’t concerned. All they needed to do was snuggle real close and drift off to dream land.

Itto had his eye mask ready on his forehead, waiting for Gorou to come cuddle. After the general had changed into his pajamas, he turned the lights off, crawled onto his partner and laid his head on his chest, snuggling up real close and listening to his heartbeat. Itto wrapped his arms and a blanket around his beloved boyfriend, playfully nuzzling the top of his head and giggling to himself. He was always excited to spend some snuggle-time with his beloved warrior.

“Are you comfy?” Itto asked, kissing his head.

“Hmm... yeah. You’re so warm…” Gorou replied, softly nuzzling into him and happily wagging his tail.

“Mm... so are you. You’re like… really snuggly. Your hair is so soft…” Itto held him closer and nuzzled his head more, filling his cuddles with more love and affection.

“Hehe, thanks. You’re very comfy...” Gorou smiled, reaching up to gently scratch Itto’s head before nuzzling his chest. The two cuddled like this for quite a while, ready to fall asleep at any moment… until Gorou felt a weird sensation in his ear, making it flick on reflex.

“Huh… hey… don’t do that…” Gorou said sleepily.

“What?” Itto replied, resting his chin on Gorou’s head. Then, he felt the same sensation again.

“Hey! Do not.” Gorou complained, flicking his ear twice.

“What?? I’m just breathing.” Itto replied with a giggle. Turns out he was gently blowing air at Gorou’s ears without permission, because he thought the way they twitched was funny.

“Itto! It tickles! Stop it!” Gorou protested, holding his giggles in.

“Hehehehe, so cute…” the oni replied, blowing air yet again.

“Grrr… leave my ears alone!” Gorou whined, finally covering his ears to prevent that ticklish feeling.

“Hahahaha! You’re adorable!” Itto laughed and hugged him close in response. “Aww~ Is someone angy?” He said in a silly voice, gently rocking his beloved left and right.

“Pfft.. shut up. Stop blowing on my ears! I’m trying to sleep…” Gorou complained with a frown.

“Ah, alright, fine. I’ll stop, hehe!” Itto replied with a chuckle, kissing him on the forehead. “Can I rub your ears though? You like that, right?”

“Oh! Uh… s-sure. G-Go ahead.” Gorou replied, shyly accepting the headpats and ear rubs while wagging his tail.

“Aww, you’re so cute~! Who’s a good boy?” Itto teased, gently squishing Gorou’s face and giggling at his cuteness.

“Hngh.. d-don’t say that!” He whined and buried his face into Itto’s chest, feeling embarrassed.

“Hehehe! You’re so adorable! Have I ever mentioned how fluffy you are?” Itto said, basically massaging Gorou’s ears and head at this point.

It felt amazing… Itto was a headpat expert. He had tons of experience with petting dogs, cats, Ushi and even humans. That and as a fellow headpat enjoyer, he knew exactly how they should feel for maximum relaxation. After a while though, Gorou asked him to stop because his ears were getting overstimulated. So instead, they returned to soft snuggles. Itto started gently and slowly scratching Gorou’s back. The tingles felt so relaxing that he could fall asleep any second… until another strange sensation took place on his ear.

“Mmh… Itto...” Gorou groaned sleepily. What was he doing now..?

“Hm? What’s up, pup?” Itto asked quietly.

“What are you doing..?” He was getting annoyed with these antics now.

“Just having a midnight snack.” Itto had started gently nibbling on the doggos left ear for the funny.

“It’s not even midnight…” He tried to flick his ear away, but… couldn’t? “Wha…? Hey!”

Itto was holding the doggy general’s ear stuck in a nibble, playfully giggling with his mouth closed. Gorou rolled his eyes. “Ha ha, very funny. Let go!” he said, gently trying to pull away.

“M-m.” Saying ‘Nuh-uh’ wasn’t possible without opening his mouth, but Gorou understood it anyway. Itto thought this was hilarious!

“It’s not funny! Ooh, I’ll give you something to laugh at!” He growed, swiftly unleashing a playful punishment.

“Mhmhmhmhm-hmhmhmhm!! Mhmhmhehehahahahaha!! W-Wait nohohohoho!!” Gorou successfully freed his ear by tickling the oni’s sides, making him open his mouth to laugh out loud.

“This is what you get for all that mischief!” he said, scribbling all over Itto’s sides and ribs.

“Hehehehehehahahahaha! I’m sorry!! I’m sorrehehehehee!!”

“No you aren’t! You do this almost every night!” Gorou exclaimed. He actually didn’t mind it that much, but this was a good excuse to tickle his beloved oni and admire that beautiful smile of his.

“Hahahaha!! I-hehehe! I mehehean it thihis tihihihime! EEK! Nohohot thehehehere!!” Itto squeaked, giggling his head off and squirming.

“You say that every time!” Gorou started playfully vibrating his fingers into his lower ribs. Itto’s squirming quickly grew as he threw his head back to laugh louder. That’s when his eye mask slipped down over his eyes, which made the tickling feel worse.

“BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! IHIHI- PFFWAHAHAHAHAHA!! I really mean it this time!! PlehehEHEHEHAHAHA!!” Itto managed to get a quick sentence in before being interrupted by his own laughter.

“Ugh, you say that every time too. Boooo, get new material!” Gorou taunted playfully, moving his hands up to poke and tickle Itto’s upper ribs.

“Eehehehehahahaha!! Ihihi can’t help ihihihit!” he giggled, trying to defend himself.

“You’d best behave yourself, or else you’re in for more tickles!” Gorou said, playfully clawing at Itto’s abs and tum, making him wheeze and laugh louder while playfully kicking his legs.

“Will you behave? Hmmm~?” Gorou gently scratched at his bellybutton.

“EEK!! NAHAHAHAHAHA- *hic* N-NAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE!!” Itto squealed and shook his head on reflex.

“Tickle tickle tickle~” Gorou teased, moving back to playfully dig below the oni’s ribs before blowing a raspberry in the middle of his abs.

“SHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT- *hic* AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! STAHAHAHAHAP!!”

“Whoa!” Itto squirmed so much it was getting hard for Gorou to stay on top, so he stopped tickling to keep himself balanced. But once it stopped, Itto quickly calmed down to a giggling mess rather than an earthquake, moving his eye mask back up to defend himself better.

“Will you behave now, you big goofball?” Gorou asked, playfully poking over and over at random spots.

“Ack-! Ehehehehehehehehe!! Nohohoho!!” Itto began giggling like a maniac at the random sensations, trying to grab the general’s wrists. Unfortunately, he’d had his hand-eye coordination tickled out of him, so he couldn’t quite reach.

“No? That’s too bad… I’ll have to go for more drastic measures then!” Gorou saw his opportunity and quickly jabbed his hands into Itto’s armpits, trapping them under his arms and making him yelp loudly.

“Will you behave now?” Gorou asked, holding his hands still.

“EEK! OKOKOKOK I’ll behahahave! I swear! I’m sohorrehehehehehe!!” Itto said through his frantic giggling, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Reeeaally? Hmm, are you sure~?” Gorou teased. For once it was his turn to be in charge…

“Yehehehes!! Yes I’m sure! Plehehease!! A-Anywhere but there!” Itto pleaded, giggling desperately. “I-I’ll leave your ears alone, I promise!”

Although winning like this was a lot of fun, Gorou decided to show mercy and stop tickling. “Oh, alright, fine. I guess I’ll spare you this time. Gimmie my hands back!” He said, pulling his hands out after Itto loosened up, still giggling a lot. Then, Gorou playfully nuzzled and kissed him all over his face before laying back down and lovingly snuggling up to him.

“Did you have fun, sweetheart?” Gorou asked, smiling and booping his nose. He looked so adorable, he thought, holding his face for a moment to give him a kiss.

“Yeheah… hehehe… that tickled..!” Itto giggled, catching his breath. His cheeks were flushed red from all that.

“I know, hehe! I’m still surprised you can squeal like that.” Gorou teased, giving his boyfriend a cheeky grin.

“Wha- Huh?! Excuse me? I don’t squeal!” Itto protested, feeling an embarrassed blush coming.

“Yes you do, I heard it!” Gorou replied with a laugh, gently nuzzling his neck.

“Pfft- n-no I don’t! I would never!” Itto scoffed and looked away stubbornly. How dare this little guy make such a claim about the one and oni?

“Oh really? Hmm…”

“Yeah, really- wh..?”

Gorou slipped the eye mask down…

“Hey! I can’t seEEEEHEHEHEHE!!”

…and blew a raspberry on his neck while tickling his ear.

“Ahahahahaha!! Come ohohon! I wasn’t ready!”

“What was that noise?” Gorou teased, gently tickling both ears while uncontrollable, high pitched giggles poured out of the oni.

“Eeheeheheehehe!! Not the ears!” Itto squeaked, trying to cover his ticklish ears.

“‘Ooh I don’t squeal’ he says…” Gorou taunted, quickly scribbling over Itto’s now exposed armpits, which did in fact result in a surprised squeal as he clamped his arms down.

“Hehe, you liar~” He said, kissing his beloved on the cheek.

“Th-That doesn’t count! I wasn’t ready!” Itto moved his eye mask back up so he could see.

“Ok, what if I prepare you then~?” Gorou grinned with mischief.

“Three…” Gorou wiggled his fingers around above Itto.

“What- wahahait..!” Itto began giggling nervously.

“Two…”

“Dohohon’t..!” He couldn’t tell what his next move would be!

“One!” Gorou quickly poked Itto’s bellybutton, resulting in another surprised squeal.

“EEP!! Hahahahahaha! Stop tickling me!!” Itto blushed with embarrassment, still refusing to accept that he, of all people oni, just made that noise. He would never!

“Hehehe, you’re like a squeaky toy!” Gorou exclaimed, giggling at how adorable Itto was and gently squishing his face.

“I- wha- s-squeaky toy?!” He could mot believe his ears!

“Yeah! You’re so cute~ Hahaha!”

“Who are you calling a squeaky toy?! How dare you?” Itto questioned, sitting up dramatically and glaring at Gorou. He seemed mad.

“Aha, I-Itto, my love, I was just joking! No need to get ‘angy’ now…” Gorou booped his nose, instantly regretting his taunts. Oh, he shouldn’t have done that…

“Oohohoho, that’s it! You’re in BIG trouble now!” He grabbed his wrist.

“Whah-? AAH!” Itto playfully wrestled Gorou off of himself, turning the tables by pinning him down, with a mischievous grin on his face.

“Wahahait! Wait!! Ittohoho dohohon’t!!” Gorou pleaded as Itto pinned his arms above his head, rendering him giggly and helpless.

“Did you really think I’d let you get away with that? Huh?!” Itto growled, playfully faking his so-called anger with an obvious smile on his face, and teasingly moving Gorou’s shirt up to reveal his tummy.

“AAH!! W-Wahahait! N-Not there!! Plehehehehease!” Gorou squirmed, trying his hardest to pull his arms back down, fearing the ticklish assault that would come.

“Yes there~ hehe! What do you have to say for yourself, pup?” Itto held his hand above Gorou’s tummy, wiggling his fingers and grinning with mischief.

“EEK!! Wahahahait!! Dohohon’t!! I’m sorry!! Forgive mehehehe!!” Gorou pleaded, giggling excitedly and wagging his tail uncontrollably.

“Hmm, not a very convincing plea. Hehe, you’re about to be destroyed!” Itto said, giggling to himself. His boyfriend was so cute! “I’m gonna get you~”

“Nononononohohoho!! Wahahahahait!!” Gorou couldn’t contain himself as those pesky fingers began wiggling faster and inching closer. It’s like he could feel the tickling already!

“Hahahaha! Why are you laughing so much? I’m not even touching you yet! You’re so silly~” Itto teased, laughing along and smiling brightly.

“Plehehehehease!! Dohohon’t tehehease!!” Gorou whined, feeling his face heat up.

“Hehe, why not? Are you ticklish? Hmm?” He began moving his hand around in circles above his giggling boyfriend, wiggling his fingers around to tease the rest of him as well.

“Ihihihittohohoho!!” Gorou wasn’t strong enough to pull his arms down, so he could neither protect his tum nor cover his blushing face. His squirms and laughter increased whenever that darn hand came closer.

“Is youw wittle tummy ticklish? Aww, so cute~ I wonder what would happen if I tickled it~” Itto cooed, choosing to murder the poor general with silly baby-talk.

“Itto plehehehease!! No more!!” Gorou cried, trying very hard to hide his face and failing to keep his wagging tail still. That teasing was unbearable! Oh Archons, how embarrassing…

“Hehehe… fine, fine, any last words~?” Itto asked menacingly, pausing his hand for a moment. The anticipation was certainly funny to watch.

“WAHAHAIT!! Plehehehease!! I’m sohohorry!!” Gorou was already squirming like crazy to escape, but to no avail.

“Hmm, maybe I can forgive you. But the tickle monster won’t! Imma getcha! Mwahahaha!” Itto wiggled his fingers again to bully the giggling general some more.

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!! IHIHI’M SOHOHOHRREEHEHEHEHEHEHEE!!” Gorou’s pleas got interrupted by loud squeals of laughter as Itto’s hand finally descended onto his tummy, playfully and quickly scribbling around all over the place. He made sure not to tickle too hard.

“Whoops! My hand slipped! Hehehe, tickle tickle tickle!” Itto teased, giggling along with Gorou’s hysteria.

“AAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! PLEHEHEHEASE!! IHIHIT TIHIHICKLEHEHEHES!!” Gorou squealed, kicking uncontrollably and squirming wildly, wagging his tail at the speed of light.

“Aww, is the wittle doggy general a wittle ticklish? That’s so cute! Kitchy kitchy kitchy kitchy koo~” Itto teased, playfully tickling on Gorou’s bellybutton. Who knew being evil on purpose could be so much fun?

“AHAHEEHEHEHAHA!!! NAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE!!!” Gorou bucked his hips as much as he could, but couldn’t escape those vicious claws.

“Hehehe, I see that tail waggin’~! You’re having fun, aren’t you? Aren’t you~?” Itto teased and slowed down to light tickling so Gorou could answer properly.

“Ehehehehehehe! Plehehease! It tickles!!” He squeaked, giggling his adorable head off and dodging the question.

“Aww! You’re so cute! Hehe, I’m not done with you yet~” Itto teased, booping Gorou’s nose.

“W-Wahahahait!!” The general got really nervous once Itto’s face changed from silly smiles to a devious grin.

“Heheheh… tickletickletickletickle!”

“EEEEAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!”

Itto suddenly let go of Gorou’s wrists and began tickling his tummy again, using both hands to quickly scribble around while Gorou’s squeals of laughter returned.

“Who’s the squeaky toy now, huh?” Itto teased, giggling to himself as Gorou failed to protect his sensitive tum.

“EEEHEHEHEHAHAHAHA!! I’M SOHOHORRHEEHEHEHEHE!!”

“Hehehe! You’re so ticklish! It’s so cute… Hmm… how ‘bout that midnight snack?” Itto said with a smile before leaning in to lovingly nuzzle and nibble on Gorou’s tum, using his hands to hold his hips in place.

“You’re so cute I could eat you up~!” he said adoringly.

“EEK!! N-Not thahahahahat!! EEHEEHEE!!”

“Grr! The tickle monster is hungry!” Itto teased, playfully nibbling on Gorou’s ribs and tum, making him squeal.

“PLEHEHEHEASE!! It’s sohohOHO BAHAHAHAHAD!!”

“Om nom nom nom! Mmm! Yummy!” Itto teased, giggling before playfully blowing raspberries on him while gently tickling his sides.

“AAAIIEEHEHEHEHEHEE!!! NAHAHAT THAHAHAHAT!!” Gorou screeched, squirming and flailing like crazy under his boyfriend’s tickles.

“Yes that~ hehehe!” Itto replied, inhaling and blowing more raspberries on him for the funny.

“WAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!! *hic* M-MEHEHEHERCYHEHE!! MERCY!!!” Gorou screamed through his wild laughter, grabbing Itto’s horns to pull his head away from himself.

“Ow! Ow- ow ow-! Hey!” Itto stopped tickling and grabbed Gorou’s wrists so he’d let go.

“Plehehehehease!! No mohohohore!! I can’t breathe!” Gorou pleaded, giggling his head off and trying to catch his breath. He’d reached his limit, the poor thing. His tail was still wagging, though.

“Aw, alright, alright. I’ll give you a break! Hehe, sorry, pup. Are you alright?” Itto replied, letting go of his wrists and giving him soft belly rubs and headpats as rewards for surviving, and to help get rid of the leftover tingles.

“Ahahehe… haha… he…! Wahahait a sehehec…!”

“It’s okay, pup. You can breathe aaallll you want. Hehe, who’s a good boy?” Itto said, petting him more to help him calm down.

“Wh-?! Hehehe...! H-How dare you..?” Gorou whined, blushing and covering his face in embarrassment. He was still full of leftover giggles from all that tickling.

“Hahahahaha! Sorry, pup. Just messing with ya. You took all that like a champ!” Itto replied, gently squishing the general’s face. “You’re so cute!! I love you~” he said, kissing his forehead.

“Hehehe… love you too, hehe...” Gorou blushed. He felt so loved… and so happy…

“Do you need some water, sweetie?” Itto asked, gently stroking his cheek.

“Y-Yes, please...”

“Don’t you worry, lil’ guy! I’ll be right back!” Itto said with a smile, ruffling Gorou’s hair before leaving to fetch him something to drink. When Itto came back, Gorou had caught his breath and calmed down, sitting up to accept the glass of water while wagging his tail.

“Are you alright, pup?” Itto asked,

“Hehe.. yeah, I’m alright. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you had fun, haha! Hehe, can I kiss you, you cutie pie?” Itto asked playfully.

“O-Oh- uh- um… s-sure...” Gorou was too shy to answer properly. Itto smiled and gave him a lil’ kiss on the forehead. Then he kissed him on the cheek. Then the other, making sure to go “mwwah!” every time. Multiple soft kisses for the little warrior, all over his face!

“Aww, you like that?” Itto asked with a big smile, which made Gorou blush like a cherry.

“Uh- I- u-um-” he struggled to reply properly, opting to hide his face instead. Itto laughed in response and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Itto... I’m really tired… can we please go to sleep now?” Gorou asked, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

“Wha? Already? But.. we ca-..” Before he could protest, he was interrupted by a big yawn, too. They are contagious, after all.

“Yes, already, silly...” Gorou said sleepily, booping the oni’s nose again and softly giggling at the expression he made. “Come on, let’s snuggle…” he said, laying down.

“Suuuure, let’s snuggle!” Itto responded with a playful smirk and laid down on top of his boyfriend, covering them both with a blanket.

“Ah..! I-Itto! Y-You’re too heavy!” Gorou said, squirming in that snuggle trap. They’d both forgotten how heavy Itto was in comparison.

“Hey, you wanted me to come cuddle...” Itto said, playfully nuzzling the general’s neck.

“Eep! Th-That tickles!” Gorou squeaked, giggling and weakly trying to push Itto’s head away.

“Mm... you’re warm...” Itto replied sleepily. He sorta didn’t seem to be tickling on purpose this time, but kept nuzzling anyway to show affection.

“Ehehehe! G-Get ohohoff..!” Gorou whined, mercilessly poking and scribbling at Itto’s sides and waist in retaliation.

“EhehHEEHE! WheHEhehey!! EheheHehehEHEH!” The oni wasn’t able to stay on top for very long as Gorou was determined to tickle him away. “EhEHEhe! StohOHOHOhop! I’ll get ohohoff!” Itto giggled and rolled to the side, feeling too sleepy for a second round.

“Phew… y-you’re a little too big for that…” Gorou said, stretching before turning on his side.

“Hehe… nah, you’re just tiny.” Itto replied, stretching as well before wrapping his arms around his beloved boyfriend from behind, being the big spoon for their sleepy cuddles. Itto held him close in a warm, loving embrace and nuzzled his head.

“Hehehe! Teeny tiny little man~!” Itto had just found The funniest joke of all time, apparently.

“Oh, quiet with you.” Gorou replied, playfylly trying to cover Itto’s mouth. “Stop laughing! It’s not funny!” he said, starting to giggle as well.

“Hehehehehahaha!” Unfortunately for both of them, because Itto was so sleepy, he couldn’t stop giggling at the phrase “teeny tiny” for a solid two minutes, accidentally bringing Gorou down with him. But once their giggling fits had finally died down, they could resume their warm snuggles as if (almost) nothing happened. Gorou’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much…

“Good night, Itto... you big goober…”

“Hehehe… good night, Gorou…”

“Sleep well, my love~” Gorou reached back to try to stroke his cheek.

Itto smiled and mumbled a sleepy “I love you” before nuzzling his head again and dozing off. He forgot to pull his eye mask down first, so Gorou carefully did it for him so that he wouldn’t wake up too early. Then, after enjoying more warm snuggles, the two were sound asleep, snoring quietly and drifting off to dream land…

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