#just...... ink demon death stare

[inkdemon-whore]

thinkin about....... bertrum witnessing the ink demon and favorite playing with him.......

thinkin about

ink: "I'm only keeping you alive, because you are what keeps this ride operational. But if you say ANYTHING... You. Are. Dead... Understood?"

bertrum's just.... happy someone's playin in bendy land. but is absolutely terrified and confused, and feels like he can't tell anyone about the soft he's accidentally witnessing from the ink demon and fave doing stuff like saying "hi" to each other as he spins her around and the ink demon watches gkjclrq;lcgk

[cherubfae]

love letters || hazbin x reader

with alastor, lucifer, sir pentious, angel dust, husk, & vox!

You think you're being sooo sneaky leaving all these sweet love letters for your favorite guy. You're not. They 100% know but if they'll do anything about it is another question entirely.

tags: gn!reader! but implied male/masc reader for Angel ofc :3 mostly fluff!! mildly suggestive in Luci's & Vox's, slight angst for Angel, mention of alcohol consumption in Husk's! Alastor being his usual self lmao

Alastor

You must think you are quite the clever little thing, leaving such sweet notes around for anyone to find. Little letters you think he doesn't know come from you. His shadows haunt every crevice aware of all that goes on within the hotel's interior, and especially those that dwell within his radio tower. It is amusing watching you slither into his abode to leave yet another sweetly decorated note on his control panel while Alastor lurks within the darker corners of his tower. Scarlet eyes soaking you in like a lion hunting a gazelle.

Then, like smoke, you slip out the hatch and down the ladder towards the hotel as quickly as death. Trying to seem casual, whistling an off-key tune.

Curious, he grins. What a curious creature you are, hmm? He picks the letter up, his red claw caressing the crease of the seal. His name stares up at him, written in exquisite cursive and emboldened red ink he wished was blood.

With a single claw he slits open the top of the envelope with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel, withdrawing its contents that had piqued his interest. Immediately, his smirk widens. Positively Cheshire-like.

"My, my, darling. You are endearing, I hope you know that!" Alastor cooed with crackling static. He traced his finger along the penmanship.

He pictures you hunched over your desk fretting over such a delicate piece of stationery. Your words oozed admiration for the Radio Demon. How truly touching! The sentiment was most definitely mutual. Next time, he'll be sure to catch you in the act, little lamb.

Lucifer

The King of Hell was quick to move in upon Charlie's insistence. Eager to make up for lost time with his daughter, he takes on all sorts of tasks and attends every event she has planned. Every team-building exercise, there was Lucifer at the forefront; lest his rubber duck depression returned.

Initially, he's quite confused by the sight of a white and gold foiled envelope placed neatly on the center of his pillow when he returns to his quarters to rest. He's never seen his name written with such care. The scent of love and genuine fondness exudes from the small parcel and tempts his senses. It catches him off guard, a puff of hot air escaping his lips, blinking owlishly.

He's lightheaded as he reads the letter with one hand braced against the wall beside him. An apple-red blush coats his cheeks and creeps down his neck. The scent of you clouds his mind and corrupts his thoughts. He's starting to feel dizzy yet oh-so-happy!

You... You wrote this didn't you, sweetling? Red eyes wash over the page. He closes his eyes and presses the letter to his lips as he leans his back into the wall. It's surely from you, but why didn't you just come and talk to him instead of being all mysterious and cryptic? Has he not made his affections for you clear enough? Perhaps you were shy and felt more confident in staying anonymous.

Lucifer couldn't promise you or himself that he wouldn't go and find you immediately after he calmed down enough to be well-composed in a public space. He was practically vibrating with excitement.

Shaking out his hands and jumping in place, Lucifer straightens his tie. If all goes to plan, he'll have you snuggled in his warm embrace as he flies over Pentagram City before sundown.

Of course, he will make sure all six of his massive wings are preened and looking their best first. Hey, he is the King of Hell after all! He's gonna show off for you a little.

"Alright, darlin', I hope you're ready for a night on the town." Lucifer sucked in a sharp breath and exited his room swiftly making his way to you.

Sir Pentious

Sweet man is so flabbergasted! Surely this is a prank, yes? No? Oh my, then that must mean--! His pupils dilate and water, a big cheesy grin sneaks across his cheeks. His tail swishes behind him lightly and it's hard to fight the blush off his cheeks. It takes everything in him to collect his breath as he clutches the letter to his chest.

"What'cha got there, boss?" Points out one of his Egg Bois. Sir Pentious all but squeaks and shoves the paper unceremoniously into his breast pocket.

Pentious rasps, "No-nothing that needs to concern you!"

"Oh, okay!" Chirps his Egg Boi, waddling off.

Sir Pentious sighs, slitted eyes wander over to where you sit at the bar engaged in deep conversation with Angel and Husk. There's a weird tug in his chest he's never felt before. A longing. You catch his eye and give a gentle smile and offer him a tiny wave which he returns eagerly. He sighs dreamily, coiling in on his tails. I hope I may catch you at a more opportune time, my heart.

Angel Dust

Whenever he's had a particularly rough night at Valentino's, Angel retrieves a pastel blue shoe box from deep within his closest, almost completely filled to the brim with letters, gifts, and keepsakes you'd given him. Even the silly little half-assed doodle you made of him as a spider. He saved it all.

You're so cute, thinking that you're all anonymous when you are absolutely not, leaving him the cutest fuckin' letters that make him want to explode. It's nice. Having someone want you and not for sex. The pure heart of gold of yours was gonna be the double-death of him.

Angel hasn't quite worked up the nerve to ask you out yet. It's something he ponders every day, especially when reading your newest letter. He feels too stuck, too... Fucked up. That's not something he'd wanna put on you. You've never treated him like anything but a person. You saw the real him.

Instead, he lives for your letters. Wishing things could be different, that he could find the power to cut the contract with Valentino, and truly become yours when he's no longer that fucker's pet.

His eyes well with tears as he cradles your latest letter, praising him for how well he'd done at Charlie's little team-building experiment. He pretends it's you that he's holding. His fingers combing through your hair, smiling to himself when you lazily lean up his body to kiss him ever-so-softly. A true kiss made of real love, not lust. You snuggle into his chest fluff with your arms around his waist.

"Baby, I," with a blink, Angel is back to reality. The weight on his chest had only been a snoozing Fat Nuggets. Angel sighs, stroking his little buddy's ears. "Maybe one day, I can be strong enough for both of us, baby." He says out loud, hoping your heart will find his words.

Husk

He's quick to snatch the new letter up before anyone else sees, sending his half-drunk whiskey all across the countertop with a clang. Husk cussed under his breath, stashing your thankfully dry letter beneath the bar for safe-keeping until he could read it later.

"Why'dja gotta leave it out in the open?" Husk grumbles without malice. The playful sway of his raised feathery tail and soft hum as he wipes up his spilled drink was always a good sign of his rare, pleasant mood.

You're growing more and more bold with each letter. Leaving them places where someone other than Husk could accidentally misinterpret them: Charlie.

The last thing he needed was the well-meaning Princess of Hell to overextend herself and start playing matchmaker. Husker was doing just aces on his own. His love life was his and his alone to fuss about. He finished cleaning up the bar for the night, keeping the booze secure in its display case until the following day.

Husk peruses the letter freely in the privacy of his bedroom, one arm folded beneath his head. His golden eyes flicked from word to word. His pupils expand as he exhales an airy chuckle, lingering on the word handsome. The sound of his own trill rumbling in his throat startles him enough to drop the letter and slam his elbow into his nightstand.

Hissing, Husk pressed his palms against his shut eyelids. "Fuck, baby, ya really got this ol' cat comin' undone, huh? Sneaky little minx." He lied back down with a huff. "If only ya knew." His eyes slip shut. Tomorrow. Husk would finally approach you tomorrow.

Vox

"I see you still don't wanna text these, huh, baby?" Vox scoops up the letter taking residence on his seat, hastily clawing it open. He plops down on his chair, leaning back. "Too shy to be so vulnerable for me?" Vox's sharp-toothed grin spreads wide across his display screen, red dripping from the corner of his mouth as he hungrily drinks in your words.

"You are too fuckin' cute, aren't'cha, darlin'?" Vox chuckles, smashing his fist against his console with triumph. A bolt of electricity spirals around the system, causing him to yelp as it spans across the entire city. He created another blackout. "FUCK."

Vox is at your doorstep in a matter of minutes despite the darkness of Pentagram City. The forever-flushed red sky is light enough to find your apartment building. He's dressed in a new suit and feigned ignorance when you opened your door, holding a new letter. Surprised to see him there. Hah, caught with your hand in the fuckin' cookie jar, babe.

Allowing him into your home, Vox easily towers over you with a big grin. You looked fuckin' adorable, staring up at him so meekly.

"You didn't need to hide your feelings from me, sweetheart." He gently tilts your chin upwards. A single cyan claw grazes the line of your jaw, sliding to cup your cheek with his full palm.

"Vox, I," you stammer. Your sentence goes no further than those two small words. Vox traces your lower lip with the tip of his sharp thumb, smiling as your eyes flutter shut. He waits to see if you continue to speak and when you don't, he nods and tugs you to him by your hips. You gasp against him and he smiles, a bit softer now.

"I know, baby. I've gotcha," Vox's mouth presses tight to yours, lifting you up further into his arms for better access. Electricity soon ignites the house and city, Velvette must've gotten things running again.

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

[sparkbeast20]

Last Command

Summary: Just one day... All you have to do is stay quiet for one day so that the curse will be lifted. However...

Warning: Death, Hurt no comfort.

You have no to blame but yourself. Why... Why you had to be touching a curse book.

It was on the glass case in the Library of RAD. Saying "DO NOT TOUCH" in bold demonic letters.

The curse mention, "Speak your final death", you franticly check the book and it said that you have to keep your mouth shut for a day in order for the curse to be lifted.

A simple request, for fucking dangerous curse.

You thought of it, that you might and lift the curse, however that means you speaking or worse.

You manage to not speak at all. You tried to write down just in case, but every time you've tried. The ink fades so quick that you thought that the pen was broken.

But this might be the curse. So you had to avoid talking to anyone. And you did!

Up until class is over, cause as you walk down the courtyard. Someone calls out to you-

"Oh... No"

Lucifer

"You think that you can avoid your responsibility" He sounded furious.

Right you have papers to do in the Counsel room with him, but you've been preoccupied not fucking talking that you have ignore all of Lucifer's calls and texts. He might've think that you are giving him the cold shoulder.

But you can say or write what's going on. Afraid with the situation you're in. You panic and turn towards the gate and start running.

But before you can even start sprint. Lucifer appears right in front of you in his demon form and place both hands on your shoulder.

"You can't avoid me all day! Now... Answer me!"

You shake your head franticly with eyes shut. "Please... Lucifer-"

"MC!"

"K̷̰̑i̷̟͐̓ͅl̵͉̂̓ļ̵͈̍ ̷̲̓̆m̷̲͙̓e̴͊̽ͅ"

It all happened so fast. Lucifer's eyes widen as his gasps, but before he knew it. He grab your head with both hands, digging his claws into your skull... He in a spilt second...

Snap!

He snapped your neck.

Lucifer's blood runs cold, with only the sound of ringing can be heard as he stared blankly at his lover's limp body, their head in his hands.

Mammon

You instinctually covered your mouth and keep on walking, or more so, you started to quicken your pace to the gate.

You ignore Mammon's voice calling out to you.

Worried that he might think that you are ignoring him on purpose, well you are. But for a good fucking reason!!

You are getting close to the gates of RAD when suddenly you were trapped in an embrace.

"Yo! Why are ya runnin' from me!!" Mammon asked, but you shook your head in protest as you try to escape his arms.

Concerned, Mammon frowned.

"MC?" Now, he sound worried. "Did... I do something wrong to ya?"

"No!!" you scream in your mind, you knew that you had a rough night with him, so you started your morning a bit more quieter then usual.

So, maybe Mammon assume that you're giving him the cold shoulder, which is the last fucking thing you want-

"MC-"

"K̷̰̑i̷̟͐̓ͅl̵͉̂̓ļ̵͈̍ ̷̲̓̆m̷̲͙̓e̴͊̽ͅ"

Mammon stiffed for a spilt second as he feels the power of the pact taking affect.

Before he cause say something. He changed into his demon form, nails grew into claws, before pulling back his hand and slam it straight back to you.

You groan in pain as you feel his sharp claws dig deeper and deeper into you.

"Ma...mmon" You spoke quietly.

"I'm sorry-" But he couldn't finished it as he felt his hand jerked hard, stabbing his claws into your chest.

You went limped... And Mammon stare blankly, eyes franticly shaking as he feels your body growing colder.

Leviathan

You look back to see no one is behind you. That made you sigh in relief.

But that was short lived when a hand grab your wrist. Causing you to gasps in silent.

"Yo-You've been ignoring my texts!!" Levi can be sneaky at times. "Did I do something wrong?!?! If so- Tell me!!"

You shook your head as you try to pry out of Levi's grip.

"I did, did I! I knew it. I'm sorry MC- I'm so Sorry!!" He dropped down his kneels and start apologizing.

You were getting scared of this situation. Leviathan was panicking all because he thinks that you are intentionally ignoring him.

You slowly stepped away as he balling his eyes out, while keep reminding yourself that this is for his own good and your safety-

"MC!?!" You got startled when he calls out your name, and quickly grab your leg. You shook your head as you kept your mouth shut tight.

But Leviathan didn't let go, and just keep on saying unrelated things that he can blame for his action.

However he didn't realize that he was grabbing your leg as tight as he can, to the point he is digging his claws into you-

"Levi!!!" At that moment you froze in place, you try to slap your hand on your month but it's too late. The curse made you say "K̷̰̑i̷̟͐̓ͅl̵͉̂̓ļ̵͈̍ ̷̲̓̆m̷̲͙̓e̴͊̽ͅ"

That made Levi be taken aback. He let go of your leg, looks at you with dread filled in his eyes. While yours is filled with fear and worse of all. Regret.

Before he knows it. He shifted into his demon form and with one swipe of his claw, he slash you across your chest. Ripping off most of the skin and muscle off. "Huh... He is the Great Admiral" Before you completely fall back hard on the ground-

"NOOO!!!" Levi scream in aguish before rushing over, grab your limped body...

What did he just do?!?!?

Satan

You only glance over your shoulder to see Satan, hands on his hip with 'I'm not mad, but disappointed' look on his face. Of course you would clear things up... Tomorrow, "Please, be angry with me today, so I can live for tomorrow" that what you were thinking as you looked at him before looking forward and started to walk to the front gates. You ignore his call, in fact you quicken your pace.

Then you heard him walking- No, running behind you and that made you start running.

However, as soon as you reach the front gates. Satan manage to grab your wrist then gripped it tight causing you to- "Ouch! Satan- No..." You realized too late.

"What!"

"K̷̰̑i̷̟͐̓ͅl̵͉̂̓ļ̵͈̍ ̷̲̓̆m̷̲͙̓e̴͊̽ͅ"

Those words alone made Satan's face lose his color and his blood ran cold. And before he knew it. He shifted and with trembling hands spun you around to face him and quickly he grabbed your face, digging his claws into your face, you scream in pain and that caused him to cringed and sick to his stomach. He wants to stop, but the power of the pact is too strong.

The next thing happens, would burn into Satan's mind. As he mutters under his breath that made him start to cry.

In a split second, his palms ignited and start to burn your face. You scream in pain and agony, while Satan scream your name as he try to pulled away, but couldn't.

In mere second, your whole head was burnt to a crips and that's when he felt the pact break and he can finally let go, but he didn't. Instead, he cradle your corpse in his arms as he cries and wail on the top of his lungs.

Asmodeus

You didn't get to react, as Asmodeus being quiet when he needs to manage to sneak behind you and wrapped his arms around your arms, preventing you from wiggle your way out of his grasped.

"You're sooo, Mean!!" Asmo start to whine as he buried his face on your should. Here it comes, Asmo's dramatical whining while you would entertain this, but not today. God not today.

You try to pry out of his arms, but he hugged you tighter. And this starting to annoy you.

"I've been call your D.D.D, calling it and what? You've been ignoring me!!! MC!! How could you-"

"Asmo! Please- No, no, no, no, NO!!" You gotten frustrated that you didn't realize that you talked and now, its too late... "Asmo..."

Asmo was a bit confuse, but he hums in responds.

"K̷̰̑i̷̟͐̓ͅl̵͉̂̓ļ̵͈̍ ̷̲̓̆m̷̲͙̓e̴͊̽ͅ"

Before Asmo scolded you for this sick joke, his body react and shifted to his demon form and he immediately dig his sharp nails or rather claws into your arms. And he cry out for you to stop, but you can't.

Then, you felt it something is being injected into your arms. Ah, yes. He is injecting you with his venom.

You can it flowing through your bloodstream, and soon your heart start to beat fast. You groan as you find it hard to breath as each passing second, all the while Asmo is crying out to you to tell him to stop. However its too late.

You feel sleepy, you can describe it you aren't tried nor exhausted... Its more like the life is fading away and soon you closed your eyes... and went limp.

Asmo held you tight when you did, and start franticly shaking you awake, but there's no use. The venom destroyed your heart.

Beelzebub

You turned only to see a huge chest right at your face. It was Beel's.

"You haven't answering my calls and Belphie's, is there something wrong?" you didn't need to see that he has a frown on his face.

"No, no!! You or him didn't anything wrong. But I can't, not today" You shook your head before taking a couple step back. However you trip on a rock causing you stumble back. But Beelzebub was quick, he reacted and grab you by the waist. You gasped and looked up and saw his handsome face, you smiled and- "Thanks Beel- Shit..."

"You're welcome...?"

"Beelzebub" That gave Beel unease feeling in his guts but he responded.

"Ye-yeah..."

"K̷̰̑i̷̟͐̓ͅl̵͉̂̓ļ̵͈̍ ̷̲̓̆m̷̲͙̓e̴͊̽ͅ"

Beel's eyes widen and he gasped. And before he knows it. He grab you hold on your waist with both hands, and he quickly shifted to his demon form, and his nails grew into claws and dug in deep into your skin, causing you to groan in pain. And what happened went to fast.

He opened his mouth showing his shaper teeth and lunged into your chest, ripping off your uniform exposing your skin to the elements and he lunged again bit your skin and ripped off a chunk of your chest, he keeps doing it over, and over soon both you and he are covered in your blood.

He stopped when he saw that he remove all the flesh and bones off your chest and there he spots your heart beating. He was crying and drooling he couldn't swallow what is in his mouth, cause its bits and pieces of you. But he drive his head back into your chest, biting your heart and with one swift move he ripped your heart out of your chest.

You went limp in his arms, Beel immediately dropped down on his knees and he gently yet quickly lay your body on the ground.

Sadly, Beel franticly try to put your heart back, like a child fixing what he broke. But there is no fixing this.

Belphegor

You looked around but didn't see Belphie anywhere, you sigh in relief before you being to start walking to the gates.

But suddenly someone grab your ankle causing you to gasp. Then you heard a smug chuckle, you looked down to see a hand coming out of the bushes, and next a head popped out revealing to be Belphie. It seems like he was skipping class and slept in the bushed near the front gates.

"Damn it Belphie!" 'Oh shit' You just realized that you spoke.

"That's what you get-"

"K̷̰̑i̷̟͐̓ͅl̵͉̂̓ļ̵͈̍ ̷̲̓̆m̷̲͙̓e̴͊̽ͅ"

That send shiver down Belphie's spine. You are joking right? Belphie thought. As he quickly shifted into his demon form. He crawled out of the bushes then stood in front of you. "M-M-MC! You're joking right... RIGHT!!!" Belphie was panicking. This whole thing fucking scaring him.

However, you said the last words he never wanted to hear.

"Kill me... Like last time" Belphie started to cry his eyes out as his body moved on his own, he raised both arms and quickly grab you by the neck. Causing you and him to scream in fear.

He tried to pull back and run away from this, but that made his hands on your throat tighten even harder. You gasped and choked as you claw on his hands.

"Yes, MC, fucking claw my hands off!!! for the love of hell!!! PLEASE!!" Belphie was begging at this point, as he watch as your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your face turned purple.

And then-

Snap

Belphie eyes widen to the sound of your neck break, and soon you went limp. He had no emotion as he stare into your open eye face, eyes bloodshed and drool leaking on the corner of your mouth.

By the time that any of the brothers got to the courtyard, cause they heard the screaming. All the saw was Belphie on his knees cradling your dead body muttering "You're just sleeping... your just sleeping"

Note:

Don't know if I'll write an "Aftermath" for this. But we'll see if I get motivated. Also, this was my first time making hurt, no comfort type of headcanon fic.

If there’s grammar or spelling error, please let me know and don’t be shy to leave a comment or reblogging with cute tags. I just love to see you guys thoughts on this :3

[lanitaminaj]

once upon a dream

a strange man, or an entity, finds itself plastered on your wall. toji, you begin to learn, finds himself intertwined within your life. inspired by this post.

cw; female reader, sexual themes, cussing, mentions of suicide, mentions of death, paranormal, horror.

he simply stared, unmoving nor unblinking as he observed you. 

you gazed back, your doe-eyes large and your babydoll-lips parted as they took in the entity etched on your lavender-purple bedroom wall. 

"are you going to hurt me?" you rasped, your voice low as you kept your sleeping parents next door in mind. 

he just smirked; the left corner of his lengthy, scarred lips were pulled mockingly upward.

"are you going to kill me in my sleep?" you whispered, your eyelids heavy as a tiny yawn escaped your plush lips. 

his chest bounced, as if he was laughing in a tone impossible for your human ears to gather. 

"okay," you shrugged, wrapping the pearl-white, cotton-soft blanket up to your shoulders. 

he was merely composed of a head and a chest; composed of raven-black, messy tresses. his eyes were almond-shaped, their sunken composure indulged in your form as if you were prey. all you could make out beneath his thick, veiny neck was a set of toughened, herculean shoulders. even covered by the hellish-cloud of ink, you could make out every inch and bulge of inhuman brawn. 

"what are you?" you questioned, your body comfortably entangled within the fluffy fabric. you knew he was outworldly, yet you couldn’t discern from where he’d come from. was he your guardian angel? a spiritual protector sent to guard you as you dreamt? or was he demonic, an impish spirit serving as a reminder of the sins living within you?

he, unsurprisingly, refrained from responding. his smirk dropped, yet his nightshade-eyes remained draped on you.

“fine,” you huffed, before you allowed exhaustion to envelop your resting form. Your feather-stuffed pillows molded themselves to accommodate the shape of your head, the baby-powder scent seducing you into succumbing to a peaceful slumber.

wordlessly, you blinked your eyes twice at the strange, ghastly man on your wall, before the world around you became pitch-black. 

-

there was a little bunny that often paraded around in the emerald-green grass of your backyard. some mid-days, when your parents were off at work, you would gather some baby carrots from the refrigerator and feed the little creature. it was a cute thing, you decided, with its long, floppy ears and fur which copied the pattern of cowskin. the only difference was that the darker patterns were a light, caramel-brown rather than a deep, mocha-brown. 

the soft baby chewed happily, a soft coo escaping your lips as its rosy-pink nose twitched happily. 

the little bunny was an adorable distraction from the source of your recent frustration: the demon in your wall. 

you’ve tried for weeks to try and communicate. on your side, you’ve provided a multitude of prompts to ask him. 

“where’re you from?” was one. “what’s your name? why’re you in my room?” were others. 

of course, there’d been a lack of answers from the demon, causing you to angrily cease your one-sided conversations. 

you’d even gone as far as to script a lengthy paper to him, leaving it on the cedar-wood surface of your dresser one night for him to read. when you’d awoken, however, you discovered the letter to be ripped up and discarded messily on your oak-wood floor. 

how rude. 

your parents had been gone; your father was harvesting bee-honey while your mother attended to her floral shop. 

you picked up the little bunny, holding its bustling form close to your warm chest. a light breeze whispered around you, an indignation of the twilight-purple evening sky’s soon arrival. 

your bare feet kissed the blades of the clover-green grass, ignoring how the sharp tips provoked slight pain as you stepped. you trekked through the vanilla-white door of the baby-blue painted cottage, the wood underneath you groaning as you inched closer and closer to your lavender-lilac room. 

your bedsheets had been in a disarray; all messy with the indent of your body pressed into them. your single window had been cranked open, the smell of ivory and pine-trees surrounded your room. your cotton, white blanket reminded you of the clouds you’d seen that morning. the bubblegum-pink tulip on your dresser was dying.

“there you go,” you softly cooed, gently setting the shaking bunny on your cloudy comforter. it settled in quite nicely, its little nose nuzzling the comforting texture and smell of your bed.

you peered at your wall. he wasn’t there. 

a timid grumbling caught your attention.

your eyes widened, your ears focusing on the rumbling occurring again. it didn’t take you long to realize the bunny’s stomach had been thundering, its doll-eyes peering up at you pleadingly.

“hungry?” you questioned it, as if the furry creature could truly understand your human words. it appears that it could, however, its whiskers twitching in response.

“okay,” you nodded, your legs setting for the kitchen. “wait here,” you commanded. “i’ll find you some food.”

there hadn’t been much, honestly. your mother’s produce jars had been empty, the only evidence of there ever being fruits were the royal-blue blueberry and scarlet-red raspberry juices that lined the glasses. you had honey-baked bread, but you weren’t sure if bunnies could eat loaves. a jug of lamb’s milk sat tranquilly in the refrigerator, but you figured it’ll make the tiny creature sick. 

suddenly, you remembered the strawberries that your father had been planting. sauntering out the door once more, you set forth to the patch that grew quietly near your home.

like a christmas tree, the bush stood soldierly while the blooming strawberries served as ornaments. 

you picked gingerly from it, making sure to pick generously in fear of your father being upset. 

somewhat alone, the wind’s embrace and the soft singing of the mockingjays accompanied you as you slipped into a daze.

you thought of your parents, how often tired, yet content, they seemed with their lives. your mother’s serene smile was a sight you adored, while your nose regularly basked in your father’s constant scent of honey. you thought of your little world, how you indulged in simple pleasures such as reading jane austen and producing grains of your own poetry. the other townies often depict these simple pleasures as boring, yet there was some comfort gained in you as you embraced your creative side. 

there wasn’t much time left to indulge in your deepest thoughts, of course, as you remembered the little bunny that laid hungry in your bed. swiftly, you gathered the harvested strawberries as you set off for your home, the tranquil little cottage soft in your honeyed-eyes. 

you trampled through the door, a whistle on your lips as you chopped up the strawberries in a tiny, heart-shaped ceramic plate. it was a ruby-red shade, messily painted with strawberry and tomato juice from when you were seven-years-old. 

“bunny,” you called, your voice sweet and high like a hummingbird’s song. the bunny refrained from trotting to the kitchen, its soft paws against the wooden-floor abstained from entering your ears. you turned towards your bedroom door, the pearl-white hatch suddenly closed and foreboding. you couldn’t remember if you sealed it before you slipped out, yet you disregarded it as an unimportant thought compared to the direness at hand. 

“bunny?” you called once more, crouching slowly towards your bedroom with the heart-shaped plate in your left hand. the door ahead of you was coated with hand-painted lavender and pink tulips that scattered beautifully against the colorlessness of the canvas. the sky behind you had turned into a hue of tangerine-orange and violet-purple. 

the door creaked as you pushed it open. the plate in your hand thunderously shattered as it dropped in shards against your bedroom floor. 

near the lavender wall, where the entity lived, laid your little bunny. 

a sob emerged from your throat. your beloved bunny rested in the hands of the entity, the furry creature coated in blood as the wall’s ghost ate from it. when it was done, it simply tossed the slain bunny on the ground, a squelch sound made as it dropped in its scarlet-red bloody pool.

you submerged the urge to vomit, yet couldn’t fight the urge to pass out.

-

a coral-pink bowl of tomato-soup laid carefully against the palms of your slightly-shaking hands. 

you observed the entity, the inhuman-man licking the bunny’s blood that had coated on his fingers. 

you hadn’t quite noticed it, but the entity was growing.

he grew arms, the muscles bulging and long. his hands were just as big, with veins coating throughout the flesh. or, form? you wondered if his veins contained blood, or if they were like plant vines. you imagined it was the latter. after the events from earlier, you were convinced that this thing was surely subhuman. 

and yet, you couldn’t halt yourself from showing some form of sympathy for it. “i didn’t know you were hungry,” you grumbled, your eyes darting down as you simultaneously spooned your soup. you weren’t very hungry; your appetite had been satiated for at least a week. “i would’ve gotten you something had you just told me.”

he simply stared, his sharp-eyes trained on your smaller form as he sucked. you could feel the little smirk that rested on his bloodied lips. barbaric, you couldn’t help but think. your thoughts translated on your face, a subconscious snarl present on your angry lips. 

“you’re evil,” you choked out, placing the soup-bowl on your pearl-white nightstand. “i’m not speaking to you anymore.”

you tucked yourself into bed, your pillowy-sheets brought up to your warm face. you could imagine that the entity was simply staring at you, that nonchalant expression on his face as if he couldn’t care less about eating your precious baby bunny. you tried your best to block out any thoughts of today’s events, your subconscious allowing your mind to dream of pleasant things such as your mother’s cherry-lime pie and your father’s lullabies from your childhood.

within a few minutes, you succumbed to sleep.

-

by the time you woke up the next morning, you feigned surprise at the entity not being plastered on your wall. good, you thought. yet, there was some wicked pulse in your heart that ached at the usual disappearance of the ghost.

your legs carried you out of bed, your yawning self delighted at the sight of your mother and father eating and chatting blissfully at the kitchen table.

“good morning, honey,” your mother greeted, her lips planting a small kiss on your rosy-pink cheeks. your father squeezed your arm. 

“honey,” his resonant voice boomed. “i think my strawberries have bloomed, can you pluck them?”

your back fought the urge to straighten itself rigid, your voice fighting the urge to say “i’ve actually plucked some yesterday”. 

you complied, however, like the good daughter you were. “i’ll go get them,” you beamed, grabbing the woven-basket near the front door before you set off for the meadows. 

it wasn’t anything peculiar. you merely picked the remaining berries, placed them in your basket, and set off back home. you arrived back to your parents on the porch, their tanned fingers wrapped around mason jars filled with what appeared to be peach-tea. 

“honey,” your mother sang your childhood nickname. “set the basket down in the kitchen. we left a glass on the counter for you.”

“thanks, mama,” you thanked, your steps echoing as you entered the tiny kitchen. you sat the basket down, yet something peculiar occurred. a thumping sound emerged, a noise consistent and erratic as it bounced frighteningly on what you determined to be on hardwood-flooring. you listened intently, before you realized the sound was coming from your own bedroom. 

your skin suddenly felt very cold. 

your crept towards your room, your heart pumping as your hand pushed gently against your colorful door. you swore your heart fought not to stop as the door creaked eerily.

the thumping stopped once you entered your room. you froze, your mind racing with a multitude of thoughts at once. oh god, you cried to yourself. perhaps i’m losing my mind. it wouldn’t be a possibility too far fetched. after all, what sane person sees a ghost in their wall?

but then, there it was. a bunny emerged from under your bed, the thumps it created verified that it was the source of the anxious noises produced. you sighed, but then you realized under sudden inspection that this wasn’t just any bunny. its long, floppy ears; its caramel-brown cowskin patterns.

this was your bunny. 

“what,” you breathed to yourself, its pink nose wobbling as it inched closer to you. you couldn’t believe it; your little bunny had been brought back to life?

you bent down to scratch the beloved creature behind its ears, but gasped as it disappeared underneath your touch. within a heartbeat, it was gone once more. 

you choked back a sob. 

“no,” you huffed, your throat tightening and your heart broken. “no, my bunny.”

a tear slid down your cheek, before something in the corner of your eyes caught your attention. you turned your head, your eyes widening in pure surprise. 

there, on your wall, decorated with black-gunk, purple-ink and burgundy-blood, was a simple appellation. 

toji.

-

when you first started seeing choso, you refrained from bringing him home for select reasons. 

for one, you didn’t want your parents to flock and coo around him like doves. for two, you didn’t want him to be frightened by the man in your wall.

toji, you discovered, had gotten stronger as the days progressed. the wall carved out indentations of his thighs, the tendons within them muscular and large. similar to his arms, you noted. 

you additionally noticed how jealous he’d get, for reasons you didn’t quite know.

during late nights, when your parents were whisked away by either deep sleep or work duties, you found yourself gushing over choso to the shadow man. 

“he’s a gentleman,” you blushed, your fingers toying with the loose fabrics on your comforter. “he sometimes doesn’t have much to say, but he’ll bring me little flowers here and there. specifically baby’s breath cause they’re my favorite. i’m surprised he remembered i told him that the one time i did.”

toji kept that common smirk on his ghastly face, yet his features often altered when he heard you speak about choso. for one, his eyes switched. a fire ignited in them, a violet-purple glint in them that never went unnoticed. his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly, with his nose flaring ever so slightly. 

there was one day you were enthused over choso so bad that it caused toji to completely disappear for three nights, only to smugly reemerge as you pathetically called his name in the dead of night. you’ve received the message, of course. you’ve refrained from raving to toji about your date after those nights. 

tonight, however, you’ve gotten the home to yourself. your parents had been flocked away to attend to some dire work obligations, their presence not revered as that meant you were able to bring choso in. you’ve forgotten about one presence, however, too blissed out to remember.

you ransacked your parents’ liquor cabinet, your fingers pulling out a bottle of jack daniel’s tennessee honey whiskey. your father’s favorite.

it was disgusting, of course, your lips pressing bitterly into each other as you took little shots of it. you were never a huge alcohol enthusiast, but you read somewhere that it was an aphrodisiac. from the way a sudden warmth blossomed between your thighs coupled with the way you could feel your tits hardening underneath your white-sundress, you knew the effects were taking place. with choso’s low-eyes and his palm practically caressing your bare calf, you could tell that the alcohol was affecting him as well.

“you’re beautiful,” he uttered above the soft voices of ella fitzgerald and louis armstrong singing ‘the nearness of you’ on the living room’s mahogany-wooden vinyl player.

“thank you,” you breathed before the sudden liquid courage got a hold of you. you got a hold of his hand, guiding it so that it reached the inner warmth of your thighs.

“do you wanna?” you asked sweetly, your cunt dampening as you heard choso rasp out a soft little ‘fuck’. 

“we’re all alone, right?” choso asked, to which you gently nodded your response. “no interruptions?”

“no interruptions,” you promised, before letting yourself be whisked away to your bedroom with your date in tow. 

-

he was so muscular; a fact you didn’t know as his body was constantly concealed underneath the robes and baggier fabrics that he donned. his buffed chest rubbed consistently against your softer breasts, causing them to swell underneath his touch. melodic moans and gasps escaped from your lips, your eyes pressed shut from intense ecstasy and pleasure. his cock, god. his cock was veiny and thick; your lips had previously been wrapped around his salmon-pink dick as it began to rise in your throat. currently, it was being punched routinely in-and-out of your tight, soaked cunt. your nails dug into the man’s pale-back, the ruby-red scratches contrasted beautifully against his canvas-like skin. 

it was all too much; you didn’t know if you’d be able to withstand how his cock was fucking you deeply and roughly as he breathed heavily in your ear. 

“yeah, you like that?” you could hear his heavenly, sexed-out voice question you. the boldness and confidence in his words caused your blissful eyes to open-up slightly, before they immediately bolted-open in shock. 

just a few centimeters from your face had been choso’s own, yet something had changed in his eyes. 

they glew a violet-purple hue. right there, just below his sweating nose, was his mouth; his lips were pressed into a familiar, hunting smirk. 

you could’ve died right there, but you would’ve found it absolutely humiliating for your tombstone to read; death by bomb-ass-dick. 

“yeah,” choso’s voice questioned once more, yet your heart thumped at you in both nirvana and in warning. was this truly choso? “you love this dick, don’t you?” he spoke, causing you to subconsciously moan in response. “love how your cunt squeezes on it, huh?”

“yes,” you nonetheless answer, too fucked out to ponder anything less in the moment. “love this dick.”

“love how it makes you go dumb, don’t you?” choso’s voice began to transform into something unfamiliar. the base in his voice lightened, yet changed its tone to that of something more cocksure. a voice you would later be able to put a face to. 

“choso,” you whined, an action that erupted voluminous noises to pass out your mouth as choso slammed his cock deeper in your throbbing pussy. a veiny hand snuck to grasp at your blushing tit, before the same hand trailed upward to carefully hold your throat. 

“you’re mine,” he hissed, as if something were causing him great pain. “all fucking mine. this cunt belongs to me.”  

“all yours, choso,” you swore, your head bobbing up and down the best it could against the grasp of his hand. you could feel the wave of your orgasm beginning to crash, your heightened ah,ah,ah’s the indicator of what was starting to arise. 

“gonna cum, aren’t you?” choso solicited, his fingers rubbing against your cunt’s pearl. “cum then, pretty girl.” 

and so you did. you cried as your cunt clenched around his cock. choso groaned at the vanilla-reminiscent ring of cream you produced, the man pulling out just as he filled the trojan wrapped around his tip with his own salty-flavored cream. with a huff, he pulled the condom off his cock before he tossed it in the midnight-black tiny trash can behind him, his naked body then collapsing adjacent to yours.

you laid like that for a while, your bare breasts rhythmically rising up-and-down with each deep breath you took. you allowed your left forearm to press against your shut eyelids, allowing yourself a moment to recover from the orgasm that passed you. 

“that was good,” you laughed through a string of heaving breaths. “did you like it?”

“yeah,” choso replied, a hint of confusion inked his steady voice. a pregnant pause filled the air, his arm draping across your bare shoulders. “would you find it crazy if i said i didn’t remember any of it?”

“what?” you chuckled, taking his words to be some form of a joke. your laughter halted, however, once you took in his serious lips contorted to that of a flat line. “did you black out?” you then question, your breasts bowing shamelessly as you sat up against your soft pillows. 

“i might’ve,” he shrugged, allowing his form to press into your blanket underneath him. he left it as that, causing you to sigh out an ‘oh’ and nod your head dumbly. you wanted to say how he seemed normal, his usual self except for the fact he was a much bolder personality in bed. you blamed that on the arousal, however. wasn’t it normal for one to act more daring during sex? 

“i’ve got to get going, anyways,” choso suddenly remarked, his taller figure swiftly bouncing off your bed which left you downhearted. you loved company; those fleeting moments after sex never failed to even be cherished by your heart. “your parents will be home sometime soon, won’t they?”

“yeah,” you smiled, although it was gone just as quickly as it appeared. it was sad. you felt like a pathetic little puppy dog all depressed once its owner had to leave for work. “do you want me to walk you out?”

“sure, honey.”

-

you then quickly threw on your discarded sundress from off the floor, trailing behind choso as his fully-dressed form strode casually through the living room, his right hand clasping around the front door’s handle. 

“are you free next saturday?” you asked him, a blush on your face as he bent down to kiss your warm cheek. “yes,” he replied, flicking your cheek as if wiping an invisible tear from it. “i’ll call you. goodnight.”

and then he was off. “goodnight,” you called after him, closing the door behind him as you did. you didn’t lock it, of course, for your parents’ sake.

trailing sadly back to your room, you screamed at the sight before you. 

it was toji, but he’d been out of the wall. there he was, in all his cruel glory, sitting nonchalantly on the edge of your bed. he’d developed his lower limbs; his legs and thighs, of course, just as muscular as the rest of him. yet, there was something about him that contrasted his buff appearance. maybe it was his clenched waist, a waist you slightly envied. maybe it was his fringed hair-style, an unserious look for a demon. 

he looked, nonetheless, dare you even say it, normal for an evil creature. in evil creature standards? 

and then you felt ridiculous for casting so much attention onto his appearance when there was a much larger issue at stake. 

“what are you doing on my bed?”

he didn’t answer, of course, his devilish eyes glancing up-and-down your swaying form. you wondered what he was thinking about, wondering if you could even touch him. you strode towards him, your thoughts governing your impulsive thoughts. your hand stretched to caress his cheek, but right before you did, he vanished. 

you gasped, goosebumps growing across your skin as you felt the presence of him running up and down your arms. his aura possessed you entirely, but not literally; in a metaphorical sense, toji’s spirit danced all throughout your shivering form. you could tell he reappeared behind you, the buzzing sensation of his arms interlocked across your waist as he put his ghostly lips just below your earlobe. it must be frustrating, you thought as you allowed him to quietly take you in. it must be frustrating to not be able to communicate, at least not in the vocal way. 

he bit at your earlobe a little, causing you to laugh angelically at the playful, ticklish feeling. you could feel his chest against your back bounce happily. at least you knew entities could laugh. 

he placed a little kiss at the nape of your neck, his arms unlinking themselves from you. you turned around, interested in seeing what clever expression toji would have on his handsome, evil face. your smile dropped when you discovered he wasn’t there, wasn’t hiding away in any little corner of your room.

“toji?” you called, but to no avail. “toji?” you nonetheless tried again, your legs pacing across your room and into different parts of the cottage room in some attempt to find him. he was gone.

that night, he hadn’t returned to the wall, either. you’ve gotten used to his glowing eyes staring you down as you slept, a strange conformality you so desperately missed. even when your parents returned home, kissing you a goodnight on the top of your forehead, you still found yourself crying to sleep.

the sorrowful cries continued throughout the duration of two-weeks, the fever of your sobs heightening as you would soon discover choso had been found expectedly dead the week afterward. 

-

everything felt the same to you these days.

your bedsheets had gone unwashed for four weeks, the comforter stained with the scarlet-red residue of your menstrual and your pillows damped by your constant tears. you’ve been planning on washing them, of course, had your father not reminded you that the blueberries were ready to be harvested.

“your mother had been planning on making blueberry compote,” he explained, clearing his throat as he reassuringly rubbed your arm as you laid motionless in bed. “blueberry compote over those buttermilk pancakes you like.”

you thanked God you at least had parents who loved you. if it hadn’t been for them, you would’ve hung yourself with your soiled bed sheets. you’ve been having those thoughts at least once a day, now. 

puffy-eyed, you zoned out as you carelessly plucked at the blueberries, chucking them in your mother’s woven basket. why couldn’t your father pick his own blueberries? you tried to think positively, this outdoorsy excursion providing some form of distraction from your own thoughts. 

there were no bunnies hopping aimlessly around the grassy-patch. there were no songbirds chirping melodically among themselves. there was only you, the woven basket, the fucking blueberries.

then there was a snapping. your head jerked in the direction of what you determined to be an animal stepping on a fallen branch. you hadn’t seen anything; your eyes narrowed before they darted back to watch your own hands work.

another snap. you tilted your head once more, your heartbeat beginning to race. two more snaps commenced, causing your legs to rise up to your full length. 

and then, emerging from the bushes and branches of the forest just to the right of you, there he stood. 

“choso?” you gasped, the blueberry basket in your grasp collapsed towards where your feet rooted. 

there were clear indications that it was him; his exhausted, heavily bruised eyes, his cocoa-brown tresses, the scars that laid across his delicate nose’s bridge. yet, there was something sinisterly new about him. his eyes were narrowed, his gaze pointed hungrily at you as if you were a delicious bambi-doe. his lips curled upward into a simper, as if there was some inside joke between him and only him. his irises, interestingly enough, glowed a soft, orchid-purple hue. 

realistically, you should’ve known that it wasn’t truly choso. he wasn’t Jesus, the simple human unable to rise himself up from his perish after months. perhaps it was the lack of sleep, or the desperation that constantly lurked through every crevice of your brain. you ran to him, ran to the figure who you presumed to be your beloved choso. 

“choso,” you sobbed and heaved pathetically against his chest. you hugged your arms tightly around his waist, so tight that the man could die again. your body mournfully bounced against his, your tears so intense they stained the entire front of his tunic. he merely patted your head with his right hand, his left hand softly held your waist. “you have no idea how bad i missed you,” you hiccuped, your body suddenly heaving over as if you were about to throw up.

his hands, their softened nature, tenderly held your damp face. he peered deep into your eyes, as if he was opening the gateway to your soul. 

“choso,” you rasped once more, before he pulled you in to plant an amorous, long kiss on your lips. you hadn’t quite known what ghost lips tasted like; maybe Earth and rot. you internally gagged. you thanked God, however, that ghost kisses tasted exactly like nothing. there’d been no smell nor taste, similarly to those unscented soap bars your mother would make every first of the month. 

you kissed for quite a long time; his tongue suddenly found itself slipped deviously inside your mouth. you moaned, his ghostly hands curiously exploring the mounds and curves of your body. 

you don’t recall how or when, but you do remember finding your back kissing the bark of an old sycamore tree. his hands roamed throughout your body, his hands cupping the softness of your tits and the plumpness of your ass. you squealed in his mouth, feeling his cock harden against your thighs. 

he fucked you right there and then, his cock suddenly in his hands before he slipped it between the warm folds of your cunt. 

you moaned, the songbirds above you seem to chirp along to every little sound you made. he ripped the top of your baby-pink dress, your hardened tits peeking out at him as he pinched them. he nipped at the soft of your neck, his bite becoming intense as you began to reach nirvana. 

“fuck,” you rasped, your eyes shut in ecstacy as your mouth formed an erotic ‘o’ shape. “fuck, fuck, fuck.”

you peeked an eye out, your movements and noises suddenly stilling as you noticed toji’s face smirking back at you.

you then orgasmed, your screams of both pleasure and horror scattered the crows that were once perched on the tree branches above you. you fell to your knees, your screams growing in fervor as tears began to stream down your trembling face. 

you remained in your state of shock, even long after your father had ran to you and carried you home. the basket of blueberries had been left on the ground. 

-

everyone had thought you were crazy; you were sure of it. you were beginning to think you were truly crazy, too. 

you were in your bed once more, a bowl in your hands. hazelnut soup this time, another one of your mother’s delicacies. 

you felt awful; your head was throbbing, your eyes were puffy, your ass hurt from falling on it. you were sure your hair looked disarrayed, but external beauties didn’t mean shit if internally you felt suicidal. 

your parents had left you at home again, your father heading off to town to find a shrink while your mother set off to find some medicinal treatments. town wasn’t too far, thankfully, so you wouldn’t be left alone for too long. 

in the window behind you, something tapped irregularly. you ignored it, at first, your perpetual state of numbness too strong to escape from. you only managed to snap out of it when something hard was thrown at your window, the sudden bang of it making you jump in place. you scurried to the sill, your shaky hands swiftly opening the pane to peek your head out. 

nothing save for the cool breeze and howling owls were out there. peculiar.

closing the window behind you, you immediately shouted when you turned back round to face your bed. 

there he was again; choso’s form, but toji’s face inhibited it. it was something out of those stephen king novels, something so eerie it couldn’t possibly be reality. 

“leave me alone,” you howled, falling to your knees and scurrying to the corner of your room where the evil entity prowled closer. “leave me the fuck alone.”

“why?” choso’s raspy, creaky voice questioned, when in truth it was truly toji’s. his smug face sneered, his sharp teeth bared and shining. 

you screamed, your hands interlocked as you dug your face into your shaky knees. you rocked madly back and forth, the stench of rot and swamp drawing closer to your trembling form. 

“what’re you so scared of?” the terrifying tone questioned, his hands resting on your moistened-from-sweat thighs. you timidly glanced from between your tresses, your heart suddenly stopping once you took in toji’s face. you could feel the pumping in the organ coming to a halt, your pupils dilating to the extreme as your mouth was opened in a silent scream. his purple-hued scleras coupled with the emergence of sharp, razor-teeth influenced every tissue in your body to remain very still. you could see the entity move closer to your horrified form, the teeth then sinking harshly into the skin of your neck. you couldn’t even wail; you were forced to wordlessly endure his brutal torture. 

your waterlines, to toji’s accord, began to kiss each other as your eyes found themselves closed shut. the sensation of an unexpected breeze whoosked throughout your entire body; had you could, you would’ve intensely shivered. the hair on your skin’s surface found itself raised, and then instantaneously rested. the world around you had grown quiet and dark, a fact you were able to govern even from behind the mulberry-colored darkness of your eyelids. 

-

you felt very light, like a fairy soaring over a beautiful field of dandelions. there’d been no weight on you, not from what you feel as you arose from what appeared to be an extremely restful slumber. you rubbed your eyes, your brain too foggy and tired to completely register the darkness that encompassed your glowy figure. you’d then noticed, of course, as you eventually would’ve had to, anyways. 

you rubbed your eyes once more, somehow convinced that this would’ve changed the trajectory of your current predicament. “mom?” you called out, your voice light and unsure as you contemplated if this was another nightmare you were in. no response from your mother, as predicted. you began to slightly panic, your chest labored and your airy legs began to pace in circles. “dad?” you wailed, your voice growing in tremor. “mom? dad?”

“they’re not here,” a voice – toji’s – captivated your startled form. you spun dangerously around, your vocal chords dancing as you screamed bloody murder. 

“where am i?” you sobbed, sinking down to your knees as you cried and shook. “where’s my parents?”

“they’re not here,” toji simply repeated, his muscular, whispery legs drawing closer to your woeful, tiny body. “you’re home.”

“no,” you hissed, crawling away from toji’s extended arms and handsome smile. “no, i’m not fucking home.”

his smile never faltered, but the little devilish gleam in his eyes subdued. “you are,” he insisted, your angry scowl and furrowed eyebrows challenging his claim. “this is your home now, too.” 

“the fuck are you talking about?” you cussed, your smart-mouth suddenly shutting as he presented you with an image. your sight was replaced with the visual of your cold, murdered body on your bedroom’s oakwood-floors. your beloved parents had been crying over you, crowding your form.

your throat tightened as you felt the urge to gag.

“no!” you wailed, your body shaking violently as you pressed yourself deeper into the deception-flooring beneath you. “nonononowhycouldyoudothistomehowcouldyoudothistomewhatthefuckareyou.”

toji simply stared, unmoving nor unblinking as he observed you. 

“isn’t this what you wanted?” you could hear him question, a sheen of scarlet-red coated your vision as you peered up at him through glaring eyes. 

“what the fuck are you talking about?”

“that one night,” he began, his expression and tone steady. “when you wrapped that fabric around your neck-”

“-that was not for you to fucking take,” you interrupted, unable to bring your dead spirit form off the floor. “that would’ve been on my fucking terms, toji.”

silence. you found yourself growing silent for a beat, too. 

“i’m enamored with you,” toji then admitted, your eyes softening not from love, but from pure defeat. 

“why, toji?” you couldn’t help but question. “why did you have to appear in my wall?”

“i saved you,” he responded, surprisingly without cockiness or smugness. 

you scoffed. 

“you had a mundane life-”

“-i had a happy life,” you corrected. “comfortable, even.”

“is that why you tried to kill yourself?”

“oh my fuck-” you screamed, burrowing your head into into your palms. 

“don’t fight it,” you could hear toji say, and you could hear the stupid little smirk he had plastered throughout his words. 

“what now?” you despairingly questioned his ghostly, vibrant form. “what do you expect from me, now?”

“i expect you to wed me,” he shrugged, his head cocked as if that statement had been fucking truly expected.

nonetheless, you did wed him. it was a simple wedding; a few other ghostly figures attended, none of which you personally recognized. toji tried to pass them off as your ancestors, but you knew he was lying shamelessly through his teeth. you hadn’t worn a beautiful gown, nor had he’d worn a luxurious tux. you’d both been adorning the outfits you’d passed on in the human realm. 

it’s funny, you noted; funny how the only marriage you’d ever have would not have come until you were passed into the spirit realm. you used to daydream about your possible marriage to choso, now here you were getting wed to his murderer. you wondered where choso’s spirit had gone, his presence not sensed nor seen in the small crowd present. you suspected that he’d gone to a better place, perhaps somewhere like heaven. he was an angel on earth with you, it would only be right for him to be where lightness constantly shone on his skin like crystals.

toji simply had his soul banished.  

“do you accept her to be your wife?” the unearthly priest-ghost questioned.

“i do,” toji answered.

the priest swiveled to peer into you, his pearl-like eyes sunken into his wrinkled-face.

“do you accept…” his cracked voice began. “...to take toji as your husband for eternity?”

you peered into the eyes of toji, his scalera’s enticing as they shone an adoring hue of orchid-purple just for you. 

“i do.”

[bones4thecats]

Can you please do Loona x Short Nerdy Male Reader? Like his walls are covered various collectibles and things. Thanks for your time!

Loona with a Short and Nerdy, M! S/O

Type of Writing: Request Name: Loona with a Short and Nerdy, M! S/O Characters: Loona Buckzo Requester: Anonymous

A/N: This ended up being nearly three pages long and around 950 words! I'm pretty sure this is the longest thing I've written so far, lmao. Anyways, I hope you male and gender-neutral readers love this thing with our favorite gothy-hellhound!

⚠️ TW: Swearing, mentions of murder, stillborns, miscarriages, and neonatal-deaths ⚠️

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Male-Envy-Ring-Hellborn! Reader ; How You Both Met (Seeing Stars Episode)

🐺 You were the heir of one of the most powerful families in the Envy Ring, but despite the pressure to become the perfect sadist, you were far from it

🐺 Unlike your constantly flowing stillborn/miscarriages/neonatal-death caused younger siblings, who produced from both your father and mother’s infidelities, you were far from interested in the power that comes from the corrupt system of Hell's, you were more interested in human things such as comics

🐺 When your parents were sent to the Greed Ring for a meeting with the Knolastname family leader and were found deceased mere weeks later, you decided to stay with one of your godfathers, Stolas Goetia and his wife, Stella, and daughter, Octavia

🐺 Eventually, Stolas had come to keep you in the home with his family, much to Stella’s annoyance. But, at least Octavia had someone to rant with!

🐺 The Goetia male was now dragging both you and Octavia throughout the ordeal of his and Stella's divorce, and only you and her seemed to realize just how desperate she was to see these stars in the human world

🐺 You were there when Stolas burst into the room in an anger because Octavia had gone missing with the grimoire, and seeing Stolas' and your demon forms almost made the three imps and the hellhound piss their pants in both fear and shock

🐺 Loona was not happy to be in the human world, and when you just offered her a hand and pulled her up, she saw just how you really looked. Your hair looked like it was made out of the fins of a fishes' and your skin had littered amounts of scaled

🐺 You really were from the Envy Ring, weren't you?

" Now! First things first if we're gonna do this the old fashioned way, we're gonna need disguises. "

🐺 The next thing you knew, you were staring at a humanoid Stolas and Loona while the three imps stood out like sore thumbs

🐺 Staring at Loona made you flustered and look away shyly, causing her to chuckle when she caught sight of you. You looked just as cute in this form as you did in your demon one

🐺 As you walked through this city Loona called LA, you had noticed that Moxxie and Millie had randomly disappeared while Blitzo and Stolas were kicked into a van and drove off after the head of I.M.P. gave you and Loona the order to find Octavia, making her and you flip him off

🐺 Okay, maybe this was getting out of hand…

" Hey. Ya' want one? " " Sure- uh, what're you listening to? " " Eh, the norm'. Blistering Skulls and whatnot. " " Oh! That's nice… I guess. " " Heh, you sound a lot like Stolas when he’s around my da- I mean Blitz. "

~

🐺 Loona and you were getting tired. You've been running around the city trying to find Octavia by her posts on Sinstagram, much to no avail, as she always was one location ahead of you all

🐺 Now you were here, at some random building that you couldn't remember the name of, but they way it looked out and onto the city reminded you of the old hellborn-comic series, Inked Blood, which had gone out years prior to your birth

🐺 Looking around slightly, you both came to see Octavia. And you looked and Loona and slightly bowed, allowing her to go in first, after all, females get females better

🐺 You just sat behind the building's large curve as Loona and the young Goetia female spoke, and your heart warmed at hearing her words. Dads really did have issues, like yours did back when he was alive…

" If he cares, where is he? " " He's somewhere down there. " " He’s here? " " Looking for you. I mean… try to cut your dad some slack. He may not always get it right, but he's trying. That's more important than you think. " " Ain't that the truth? " " Y/N? " " I agree with Loona here. Dads aren't always gonna be the best, but, despite the either minor or major flaws they have, the fact that yours is actually actively trying to connect with you before it's too late is something you need to hold dearer than now. "

🐺 Loona stared at you as you spoke, despite you looking silly wearing a demon-version of a Hatsune Miku shirt, the way you looked so lovingly and soft at the one you viewed as your sister made the hellhound flush slightly

🐺 As the smog and clouds cleared to allow the moon to shine, Loona stood and held a hand out to Octavia, making her drop the magical book into her hand as she stood and readied herself before smiling at you

🐺 All of a sudden, Octavia tackled you and Loona into a hug, making you wrap your webbed hands around the two, landing your left on Octavia's shoulder blades while your right laid on Loona's side

🐺 Why was your touch making her flustered so much?!

~

🐺 Seeing Stolas and Octavia finally discuss things was heartwarming for you. Now that that disgusting bitchy cunt Stella was out of the picture somewhat, they could finally connect like a father and daughter should

🐺 Looking up for a second as you stood beside Loona, you saw the fireworks that burst in the sky in multiple colors, and the sight of your eyes opening widely in admiration of the effect caused Loona to smile gently and sneak a photo of you, saving it to her camera roll in a folder she named to remember this day for a while

Y/N L/N - the best nerd i’ve ever met <3

[starsfic]

Chaos

Summary: Azure Lion and Lady Bone Demon are in the void. They aren’t alone.

Notes: The mention of a sparrow is a reference to this comic by @dr-chalk. There's not actually any spoilers, this is just working off a theory brought up by the new season, but better safe than sorry.

-_-

Death was boring.

At least, in Azure's case, it was. Nothing but white stretched as far as he could see, with no shadows, no noise, and no company...

Besides hers.

He had awoken to her hovering over him, her dark curls flowing down her back like spilled ink. Her face, although lovely even with her skin stretched taunt over her skull, had been void of expression. "So, he killed you too," she had said, with no explanation of who he was.

Azure already knew.

Supposedly, her name was Baigujing, although most had called her Lady Bone Demon at the end of her life. She had supposedly attempted to save the world as well by burning it to ashes. Azure had asked how that was considered saving the world, and the following words had shut his mouth.

(He would never think of sparrows the same way again.)

Azure hated her company but clung to it. There was nothing else in the void that stretched for what felt like miles, nothing but his own mind and memories. And with the nothing of the void, he had time to think over his life, his actions...his relationships...

He missed the warmth of Flower Fruit Mountain. He missed the joy of his brothers. He would've gladly never looked at Heaven again if it meant he was back there.

Baigujing never spoke much about her life as they sat together, backs pressing together. He figured that she too was stuck thinking about it, though.

He wasn't sure how long this dragged on. It could've been seconds. It could've been centuries.

Just, one day, there was a splat.

Azure brushed it off as being too deep in a memory of a silly food fight Bull and Wukong had once. Half a heartbeat passed before another splat made his ears twitch. He brushed it off again.

The third splat was followed by Baigujing sighing "What is that?" and him cracking an eye open.

There, right in front of him, was a small puddle of...something. It had a deep, dark color, almost like the ink of the memory scroll, but as he watched it, it shimmered to shimmer through the rainbow, from gold to white to red to lavender... Azure reached out and experimentally poked it, finding it to have the same texture as clay.

Before he could wonder, there was another splat as more of the strange stuff dripped down from the ceiling.

He craned his head back and felt himself go pale.

There was a massive crack in what he supposed must be the ceiling of the void, revealing stars and galaxies and ominous dark clouds. And, staring out, is a giant mass of clay, staring him down with empty sockets.

Without a word, Azure knew it was hungry. That it would consume whatever it could find.

And, right now, they were the closest thing.

"...Nope."

Without a second to think he jumped to his feet, grabbed Baigujing, and took off running. He heard a shriek from the creature behind and sped up.

He just had to stay away from it. They just had to stay away.

Hopefully, the thing would get bored...

Right?

[jokeringcutio]

Abijah Fowler x (f) Assassin Reader Drabble [ Warnings: Smut]

AN: On popular demand, another Abijah Fowler x Reader. You are an assassin set out to kill Fowler. It doesn't go according to plan.

Warnings: Non-con/dub-con content, SMUT (not as detailed as you're used from me, sorry, I'll give the prompt a retry in the future, possibly as a consensual forbidden love fic >D ), Not beta-read. Quick Drabble. ~~ Masterlist - Request Box - Ebooks&Website - Support me on Ko-Fi ~~

You watched him through the slats of the ceiling, your heart a drumbeat in the silence. Abijah Fowler, the man with the soul of a serpent, was seated at the head of a long, dark table. Such an outlandish habit. His fingers, stained with the ink of sin, traced the lines of a map that plots downfall and destruction. The other men, shadows in the dim light, nodded and murmured their assent to his vile plans — willing puppets dancing on his twisted strings.

Corrupted souls, all of them. But they weren’t your concern.

Your grip on the hilt of your dagger tightened. You had memorized the layout of this place, moved through the corridors like a ghost, unseen, unheard. Now you hovered above them, an angel of vengeance poised to strike. Your mission was clear: end Abijah Fowler.

He was explaining something, his voice a gravelly melody that carried tales of violence and power. His strong and broad shoulders moved, dipped backward as if he tried to loosen the muscles in them. His oddly colored hair captured your attention, thinking it had been a color akin to bronze or perhaps even gold once. But streaks of grey made him seem more like the other old men in this country. If it hadn’t been for his distinct facial features, the pale color of his skin, and the large shape of his bright-colored eyes.

An angel of death you saw in him. Anyone else called him a demon.

He regaled them with stories of conquests past, painting pictures with words dipped in blood. They laughed, a chorus of discordant notes, and you felt the bitterness rise in your throat.

"Of course," Fowler's voice sliced through the laughter, "it all depends on eliminating any... unexpected threats." His eyes, predator green, suddenly fixed on you, turned upward to the ceiling and straight at your hidden person. A cold smile curled his lips. "Isn't that right?"

The room fell silent. Every muscle in your body tensed, ready to spring, to fight. But you remained still, barely breathing. There was a chance this was all just a bluff, that he hadn’t seen you. But then you saw his unwavering gaze, saw the unnatural bright green eyes that rested firmly upon you, and you knew that you were exposed, the advantage lost. You cursed inwardly, waiting for his next move, knowing the game had changed.

"Come now, don't be shy," he coaxed, his tone mocking. "Join us."

You dropped down gracefully despite the hammering in your chest. Standing before them, outnumbered but unflinching, you refused to let them show any fear. Stoically, you faced them, thinking of all the lessons and all the training you had. The men stared, their gazes ravenous, but it was Fowler who held your attention. A dangerous dance awaited, everyone could feel it in the air. But you knew his moves, knew how he could react, knew you stood little chance in a hand-on-hand combat.

Especially if he brought his demon guns.

You needed a distraction, something that could increase your chances of survival. Your heart raced, a wild drumbeat in the cavern of your chest. Words, like poisoned arrows, flew from your lips as you stepped closer to Abijah Fowler.

"I've heard tales of your prowess," you murmured, voice a silken thread designed to ensnare. "They say no man can match you in the dark arts of war and pleasure."

Fowler's green eyes glinted, a predator basking in the glow of his prey's admiration. He let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling through the tension-thick room. "Flattery will get you nowhere, my dear." His words were honey-laced with venom.

One step. Another. Close enough now that you could count the lines etched into his weathered face. You felt the heat emanating from his broad frame. Fowler's hand shot out, swift as a striking snake, clasping your wrist in an iron grip. The trap snapped shut.

"Gotcha," he whispered, a taunt wrapped in a victory.

Instinct took over. Your body remembered its training before your mind caught up. You twisted, a flash of movement, wrenching against his hold. The element of surprise was on your side, for a heartbeat or two.

"Feisty," Fowler observed, almost admiringly.

The dance of death began. A ballet of blows and blocks. You lunged, struck, kicked—each move a desperate plea for freedom. Fowler countered, effortlessly, his strength overwhelming. The other men watched, wolves observing their alpha.

"Should we help?" one ventured, doubt lacing his voice.

“No, he can take her, easily,” another one guffawed.

You hated him for the comment and wanted to punch his face in, but you knew he was right. Fowler was bigger than you, broader, heavier, and more skilled in combat. You were trained to be a silent creeper, someone who brought death without being seen, a shadow of mercy, or an anger of hell.

Another heroic block of his attack, but your underarm was smarting. Pain shot through you, your body feeling sore. When he finally landed a blow that sent you staggering back, you tasted the copper tang of defeat.

"Never send a child to do a killer's job," Fowler sneered, advancing on you, the space between you charged with the promise of pain and something darker still.

Breath short, chest heaving. His presence loomed, an oppressive shadow eclipsing your tumultuous thoughts. Abijah Fowler's green eyes glinted with a predatory gleam, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a macabre grin that set your nerves on edge.

Was he studying you? The feeling that settled in the pit of your stomach was unsettling. Abijah Fowler was an attractive man, despite all his oddities. And hadn’t his character been so devilish, you might have fallen for his charm. But he was a demon. And in his eyes, you now saw demonic thoughts rise as he studied your features, eyes roaming your skin as if you were unclothed.

You felt the grip of his hands around your wrists, squeezing just a bit tighter. Felt the calloused skin of his thumb as it brushed gently past the mouse of your palm.

"Outside," he commanded, voice low and laden with dark promise. The men hesitated, exchanging leering glances that spoke volumes of their wretched character. "The lass and I need privacy."

"Seems Fowler's got himself a new plaything," one of the men chuckled, coarse laughter bubbling up from the others as they filed out, their intentions thick in the air like a miasma.

Your heart thrummed against your ribs, each beat a silent drum heralding doom. He was close now, too close; the heat from his body mingled with yours. You could kill him—if only you could reach your weapon. But he had smacked it out of your hand with the first blow, it had clunked to the wooden floor aimlessly. You couldn’t even tell where it was from where you stood. Your fingers twitched, betraying the urge.

"I'm not some doll for your amusement," you managed to say, words edged with a defiance you didn't feel.

"Oh, by the time I am done with you, you will wish I’d killed you sooner,” Fowler murmured. You could smell the odd sourness of his breath and wondered what had caused it. His grip on you tightened.

“Who sent you? And why would they send someone so young and unqualified," Fowler murmured, cruel satisfaction seeping through his tone. His breath caressed your ear, sending involuntary shivers down your spine.

The room cleared, the door clicking shut behind the last man. Silence fell heavy, punctuated only by your ragged breaths and the pounding of your pulse. Then, movement. Fowler's hands were upon you, guiding you with unwanted familiarity—a predator toying with its prey.

"Let's see what you've made of," he said, pressing you down forcefully over the table that dominated the center of the room. Your cheek met cold wood, and you flinched as the ink from the maps smeared beneath you, staining your skin with the blueprint of their vile machinations.

"Consider this a different kind of battle," Fowler whispered, his voice a serpent's hiss as he leaned over you, his weight an unspoken threat.

Fowler's hand slithered up your leg, rough fingers catching on the fabric of your clothes. A tug, a deliberate pull, and the material gave way to bare skin, your exposed calf a pale contrast against the darkness of his touch. His breath hitched ever so slightly, a sign of his burgeoning arousal not lost on you.

You struggled on instinct, but stilled when you felt the bulge against your thigh increase. This didn’t actually arouse him, did it?

"Fight me," he growled, a low rumble in his chest as you twisted beneath him, struggling for leverage. "I do love it when you struggle like that."

Your muscles coiled, ready to spring, but he was a slab of stone pinning you down. The heat of his body radiated through the thin barrier of your clothing, igniting a reluctant fire within. You hated how your body betrayed you, responding to his proximity despite the storm of loathing raging in your heart.

His hand wandered with more audacity, venturing into forbidden territory. A gasp tore from your lips, unsanctioned pleasure sparking along your nerves. Fowler chuckled, a sound laced with darkness, as if he relished in pulling these reactions from you.

"Good girl," he purred, his breath hot against your ear. "Let go, just for a moment."

You fought against the tide rising within, but the dam broke under his relentless pursuit, waves of reluctant ecstasy crashing over you. Your climax hit with the ferocity of a tempest, leaving you shuddering and vulnerable in its wake.

He wasted no time, freeing his aching long cock, the size and girth you had never seen before. A gasp tore from your lips as he sheathed himself inside of you, bottoming out with little mercy. He set a grueling pace, showing little care for your pleasure or well-being at this point. But your core was slippery, your walls fluttering around him with passion, and you had to bite your tongue to keep from moaning loudly with each and every deep thrust his foreign body gave you.

Was this how it had been for every lover he had ever taken, forced or otherwise?

A second orgasm wracked through your body. You’d find an excuse for this later on, if you were to survive this ordeal. You would find a way to condone the liquid that dripped from your core and onto the table below, the way the stained ink brushed past your nipples, the way your body pulsed with pleasure after Abijah Fowler found his release.

You felt a hot palm on your naked back, gently caressing the skin there, and heard the low hum that came from his lips. He sounded pensive, as if he were determining your fate. Your thoughts slid back to your weapons and the many ways to get your hands on them, but his body still kept you trapped underneath him.

As you lay there, trembling, Fowler's voice slithered in your ear once more. "There's a task I need done," he murmured, the words vibrating against your skin. "A certain individual who needs to be...taken care of."

His implication was clear, an order veiled as an offer. "Do this for me," he continued, "to my satisfaction, and I shall spare your life."

"My life..." you rasped, your voice laden with the weight of reality. There was no choice, only the illusion of one. You nodded, sealing a devil's pact, while inside, a lethal promise took root. Fowler had ignited a vengeful blaze, and from its ashes, you would rise—his destruction, your sole aim.

This was not the end. It was a twisted beginning, and you swore to yourself, to the silent gods of retribution, that you would have your revenge.

Abijah Fowler would pay.

~ AN: I want to do this character more justice (and the smut). But quite frankly, it is a bloody miracle I have been writing anything at all. Things don't go well health-wise, but we'll know more at the end of this month. I hope to feel good enough soon to write a better drabble for Abijah and Reader.

[avesque]

hi sweet darling my my myyy i adore your writing so very much and wanted to know if you are still taking requests from that one post you linked? if so i would love to see something with tsu’tey for the “i am in love with a moment we never had” + angst? something about him with some angst just scratches an itch in my brain idkkk lots of love btw mwah !<3

across the stars — tsu’tey

INCLUDES fem!reader, human!reader. angst. 1.1k words.

NOTE anon you are so sweet omg thank you so much! <3

jakesully hands tsu’tey a note one afternoon after the battle, a crumpled piece of folded paper with specks of dirt on the edges. it looks tiny and, tsu’tey admits, unimportant.

he refuses to take it.

the olo’eyktan sighs, pushing the scrap back in his direction. “come on, brother. it’s important.”

tsu’tey begs to differ, taking a step back and scowling at the chief. a small, immature part of him is still stingy about the turn of events; how he had no choice but to pass his title to jakesully when he was on the brink of death.

“it’s from y/n.”

tsu’tey stills. his ears fall back in his hair at the mention of your name, tail swishing in curiosity.

you were one of the researchers — a biologist, he remembers you saying — alongside grace who studied pandoran flora and fauna. before the war, you had wormed your way well into the clan with your bright smiles and tinkling laughter. despite being one of the sky people, no one was able to resist you.

you were magnetic.

tsu’tey prides himself in his great resolve, his firm judgment. he is as untrusting as one can be; calculative when needed and always skeptical.

though he cannot deny how even he was left defenseless to your charm. it pains him to admit it but he grew fond of your excited chatter, especially the way your little demon face would light up at the mere mention of new plants, among other things.

he snatches the paper in jakesully’s hands and leaves without a word.

the note has been tucked under the woven mat in his hut for days now. tsu’tey has convinced himself there are far more important things to focus on than your flimsy little gift, and as dawn breaks over the moon, he finds himself grappling for excuses he can tell himself to prolong the inevitable.

a frustrated scowl mars his face, jumping off his hammock and kneeling on the floor, lifting the carpet to reveal the folded scrap. it seems almost threatening as it sits there, staring back.

he chooses to get it done and over with.

he turns it over a few times, looking for something; anything, but all there is is smeared dirt. finally, with bated breath, he slips a finger in the crease and unfolds it.

the paper is filled with your neat handwriting, dark ink nearly glowing on the white background. his heart sinks a bit as he sees how little you wrote but he ignores the feeling.

my dearest, tsu’tey, it reads.

his hands shake and the paper crumples beneath his fingers.

you may be reading this while i am already off this moon, or you may be reading this with a scowl perfectly painted on your face with me in front of you. either way, i just hope you’re reading this.

i would first like to thank you for your warm welcome.

tsu’tey grunts at that, shifting on his haunches, something ugly bubbling in his chest, one he cannot name.

i know how difficult it must be to accept someone like me yet you did not push me away. (you did, but you are unsuccessful! i am just stubborn, and i’m glad i am.)

the countless moments i have spent with you are everything to me. i will hold them close to my heart forever.

from the deepest crevices of my heart, thank you. i appreciate all the things you’ve done for me. for showing me the flowers and telling me about them, letting me come with you on hunts, and for merely walking with me in the forest. i hope you enjoyed those moments as much as i did.

the sky people are going back on earth soon and i have decided to come with them. before i go, i will tell you a secret.

my heart has grown too fond of you. sometimes, i fear you can hear the way my heart beats a little faster when you’re near. you have enraptured me. you are the most beautiful creature i have ever laid my eyes upon.

but i —

the letter is cut off, scrawled over by strings of ink. it starts again below, and the words sends an arrow straight through his heart.

i am in love with a moment we never had. not entirely, i suppose, since i do not go over our moments the way you do. i do not experience them in a… friendly way, shall i say? the way you do. it does not translate the same way between us.

i have spent nights with you clouding my mind, the sound of your voice a hazy lullaby in my head. i have dreamt of holding you, of kissing you, of telling you i love you.

i see you, tsu’tey. even when i am no longer in this moon, remember that somewhere in this vast universe, someone out there sees you.

thank you for sharing a part of yourself with me.

yours, y/n.

the letter is nearly balled up in tsu’tey’s firm grip. it is miniscule compared to his hand, and it is a reminder of how small yours had looked in his when he guided you over rocks that one time he showed you around.

something sits heavy in his heart. guilt, he’s come to know. the sky people left just two days ago and jakesully had given him your letter a week before.

he falls back on the floor of his hut, the mat digging under his left thigh.

had he known of your feelings… had he conquered his fear and read your letter earlier…

because tsu’tey may be known for his great resolve but all it took was your blinding smile to spear through his walls. he was untrusting as one can be but the trust you have shown you had in him had him wavering.

he suppose it is just right that he was stripped of his title. one so mighty will not cower before a piece of paper, but he had, and he missed the one chance eywa has given him to let you know of his feelings that had grown and bloomed over the course of your moments spent together.

he has nothing of you to remember by except this letter and the guilt that has taken root over his chest. he knows it will stay right there as long as he lives.

[pocket-sized-nightmare]

this post by @teapot-of-tyrahn reminded me that pearl was canonically in a coma on empires s1 for long enough to fill her empire with cobwebs. which made me wonder – how did she wake up from it? so consider: gempearl

The creatures just keep attacking.

They’ve morphed from skeletons to demons to faceless shadows, but they refuse to stop. Pearl’s swords never last. There’s nothing in her environment that’s stronger than wood, and something seems to weaken its durability with every new sword she makes. Pearl can feel her energy waning and her strength slipping away. She doesn’t have much fight left. The worst part?

None of it is real.

Pearl’s body is heavy with the weight of sleep. She knows she’s dreaming. The realization would normally be enough to awaken her, but somehow, she’s remained unconscious through this one. She’s tried everything – pinching herself, screaming, splashing water on her face, even cutting herself with her blade – but the nightmare refuses to release her. Whatever she does, PearlescentMoon will not wake up.

A shadow grabs her by the hair and drags her backwards. She claws at its arm until it lets go of her, then stabs through it with the remains of her last sword. It bleeds with crimson ink, but it refuses to die. Pearl turns and runs, desperate to find another tree. I can’t let them kill me. This can’t be the end. If I die in the dream…

She doesn’t want to think about that.

I have to get out of here. I have to wake up.

Gem has done a lot of questionable things in her life, but she’s never broken down a castle door.

It’s Pearl’s castle door, too. Her partner. If there’s anyone whose infrastructure Gem wants to preserve, it’s Pearl. There is absolutely no reason why she should be approaching the castle gate with an invisibility potion and her staff.

It’s just… Pearl hasn’t responded to her messages in two weeks. She hasn’t been seen since then. Jimmy only just rescued Gem and Scott from imprisonment, and Xornoth’s new minions are still furious about it. And now, the Gilded Helianthian castle is locked.

“It’s just to make sure,” Gem mutters to herself. “Just to check on her.” With a deep breath, Gem points her staff at the locked door and whispers a breeze spell.

Even with her wind charge, Gem has to use her full body weight to get the door open. She stumbles into the entryway and stares in concern. The spell definitely broke the lock, and Pearl’s door is not that heavy. The pit in Gem’s stomach grows. Something’s wrong here. “Pearl?”

Her voice echoes through empty hallways, but there’s no response from her partner. She sees cobwebs in corners and dust on shelves. Still, the lock was on the inside of the door. Someone must be there. Unless…

The tiniest thought of what if she’s dead crosses Gem’s mind, but she refuses to let herself process it. She would have seen a death message. Pearl must still be alive somewhere. She has to be. “Pearl, where are you? Please say something!”

The castle remains silent and still. Gem takes off running, checking every room she passes. It barely registers in her mind that she has the castle layout memorized as though it was her second home. It doesn’t feel like home right now. She needs Pearl. She has to find Pearl.

Gem runs up the stairs and reaches Pearl’s bedroom. The door is closed, and there are cobwebs across the doorframe. It looks like it hasn’t been opened for…

for…

for as long as Pearl’s been missing.

Gem doesn’t so much as hesitate before casting another wind charge.

She has no idea what she’s going to see when the door flies open. Her mind races through a thousand possibilities, each more horrifying than the next. She casts another wind charge at the door, desperate to reach her partner. “Please. Pearl, no, you’ve got to be alive, please just be alive, please be okay…” She’s not used to this feeling. Even while Sausage and Joey were holding her captive, she refused to beg until the very end. She refuses to make herself vulnerable for anyone’s sake. So why is it that now, when she isn’t even the one in danger, she can’t hold herself together?

Gem casts one more spell and throws her entire body against the bedroom door. This time, it splinters and cracks in two. She collapses into Pearl’s bedroom, leans her head against the wall, and takes a deep breath. A piece of her wants to turn around and run away before that awful feeling can hit her again. Her stomach aches. She presses the cold crystal tip of her staff to her forehead and closes her eyes. Void, what would Pearl say?

The cool, smooth texture against Gem's skin is grounding. She takes another deep breath. “She’d say… she’d say something like ‘letting your walls down is good for you,’ or ‘loving people can scare you sometimes,’ or…” She blinks back a stray tear. “Or honestly, she’d say something like, ‘Aw, you nugget, I’m really that important to you? When did that happen?’” Gem laughs under her breath. “But I’ve gotta…” She uses her staff to push herself to her feet. “I’ve gotta find her first. And then she can make fun of me.”

There’s a soft, distressed sound from across the room.

Gem’s smile fades.  She races over. “Pearl?”

----

Pearl has known she’s dying for days, but now it’s starting to scare her.

She misses once every few hits now, and it’s getting harder to get up when she falls. Her whole body aches. No matter how loud she screams for help, nothing she does breaks through to the real world. Giving in sounds more appealing by the minute. 

No. Don’t even think about it. She’s a warrior, isn’t she? She’s supposed to fight through everything, to defend her empire and her friends without so much as a cut on her skin. Xornoth wants her gone, but she’s fought him before, right? She can win this. She’s not hopeless. She’s not–

A shadow shrieks and dives for her, pinning her to the ground. The weight on her chest makes it hard to breathe. She’s never been more tempted to give up.

There’s a sudden sound from behind her. It’s soft, almost imperceptible, but familiar – a voice, speaking in low tones. She knows that voice. It’s Gem’s voice. Either she’s somehow hallucinating within her own nightmare, or her partner has found a way back to her.

The shadow tries to claw at Pearl’s skin, but Pearl summons a newfound wave of energy and kicks it in the chest as hard as she can. She stumbles to her feet. “Gem? Is that you? Help me! Get me out of here! Please!”

She isn’t sure how much of her message has gotten through to the waking world. All she can do is hope it’s enough.

----

“Pearl!”

Gem shakes her shoulder, but Pearl stays fast asleep – beyond asleep, really. Her skin is clammy and pale, and she looks like she’s starving to death. If it wasn’t for her unsteady breathing and pounding heart, Gem would think Pearl was already gone. “Pearl, wake up! You have to get up!”

Pearl doesn’t move.

“Oh, void.” Gem struggles to hold back tears. “Pearl, no, what’s happening? Are you sick? Is there a cure? What happened?”

She doesn’t even stir.

“Pearl, wake up! Please, just give me a sign! How can I heal you?” She’s not going to cry. GeminiTay, Wizard of the Crystal Cliffs, does not cry. She keeps a level head and solves problems before they can hurt her. She does not let Xornoth or their corruption emotionally affect her. She has to keep herself safe. She has to keep herself safe, even if Pearl isn’t. Right?

“Fuck it,” Gem says aloud. Her eyes spill over with tears. “Not doing this. Not today. Pearl, please, you have to come back to me.” She kisses Pearl on the forehead, trying not to focus on how cold Pearl’s skin is. “I love you so much.”

Pearl doesn’t stir. She doesn’t make a sound. But somewhere in the emptiness of her body, she manages to make her hand grab Gem’s wrist.

Three short squeezes, three long, and then three short again. Gem doesn’t know much Morse code, but she does know exactly what an SOS signal looks like. That’s a distress call. She’s in danger. But how can she be in danger if she’s asleep? Unless…

The locked doors. The unbreakable quiet. The impossibility of communication. Gem knows this story. 

She’s lived it.

----

The voice grows closer and louder, surrounding the whole dream. It’s still unintelligible, but it’s more familiar now.

Four words – give me a sign – cut through the noise. Pearl punches an approaching shadow. “I’m trying, Gem! I can’t! Where are you?”

More noise, and then a whisper. You have to come back to me. It’s the clearest phrase yet. The shadows hiss and shrink away.

And then, for the first time in days, she can sense again. A soft, warm point of pressure on her forehead. The scent of glowstone and nutmeg. Words she hasn’t heard in weeks but keeps with her every day: I love you so much. The fuzzy outline of her partner sitting next to the bed. A way out. She has a way out.

Pearl puts every last ounce of strength she has into wrapping her hand around Gem’s wrist and sending out a distress signal. Her energy ebbs away. Xornoth’s got me, she tries to whisper, but sound refuses to escape her lips. Please help me.

From the way Gem reacts, Pearl hopes she’s right to believe her partner got the message anyway.

----

Xornoth kidnapped Pearl. Jimmy found me and Scott too easily last time. He needed somewhere safer to hold her, somewhere she wouldn’t be found. And she’s beaten him in a fight before. Where better to hold a fighter than a realm of her own monsters?

Gem's mind goes unsteady with a new wave of panic. But I’m not a healer. I explode things and make potions. Katherine is good at healing people. Sausage is– I mean, Sausage was the one who always took care of us before everything. I’m not a savior. I don’t know what I’ll do if I try to save Pearl. I should get– That thought dies quickly in her head. No, I don’t have time to get anyone. If I leave, she might not make it. This one has to be me.

Gem takes out her staff and presses the crystal against Pearl’s forehead. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay. Please hang on. This is gonna take a lot out of me.”

She closes her eyes and whispers a spell under her breath. A small beam of purple light illuminates the crystal, then floods into Pearl’s mind. Gem searches, reaching out with all her power to break through shadowy fog. “Pearl, it’s me. Just try to move towards the light. I’m gonna get you out.”

The shadows scream and swarm Pearl, dragging her back into the darkness. She struggles forward, reaching out in desperation. “Gem, they won’t let go of me! Help me!”

Gem reaches deeper into the nightmare spell, breaking through concealing walls and monsters. She will destroy the whole nightmare if she has to. “Keep going. You’ve got it. I’m not going anywhere. Not until you’re with me.”

Pearl summons everything she has left in her, throws the shadows off of her, and runs into the purple light. “Gem, do it now!”

Gem uses her full concentration to drag Pearl’s soul out of the nightmare prison and back to earth. As the prison dissolves, Gem slumps against the bed and tries to catch her breath. “Please tell me that worked. I don’t think I can do it again.”

Pearl sits bolt upright, barely able to breathe herself. “Gem?”

Gem gives up on compartmentalizing her emotions and breaks down sobbing. “Oh, void, Pearl…”

Pearl collapses into her arms and blinks back tears of her own. “You did it. You saved my life. Thank you…”

“Of course.” Gem tries to get her emotions in check, but she can’t. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to… this hasn’t… it’s wrong. Nobody’s died before.”

“Correct,” Pearl says with the tiniest smile. “Nobody’s died. And that’s because of you.”

“You know I’m nobody’s protector.” Gem’s hands shake as she pushes Pearl’s hair back to cradle her face. “I barely figured out how to save you in time.”

“But you did.” Pearl struggles to her feet. “How long was I out for?”

Gem doesn’t meet her eyes. “Two weeks.”

A flicker of alarm passes across Pearl’s face, but she shakes it off. “My empire’s probably grown cobwebs by now, huh? I should deal with that.” Her stomach growls. “Also, I think I’m about to starve, so I should get… breakfast? Lunch? Dinner? My schedule’s still all thrown off.”

“Lunch,” Gem says softly. “I’ll get you some bread and soup. Please eat slowly. I don’t want you to make yourself sick.”

“Nobody’s protector, huh?” Pearl chuckles.

She expects Gem to laugh, but instead, Gem wraps her in a tighter hug than she’s ever given before. “You scared me. You disappeared. I thought… you were… I really thought…” She can’t finish her sentence.

“Bread and soup,” Pearl says. “And tea, and a bit of gardening later once I’m really awake. I can celebrate you saving my life forever, or we can never speak about this again. It’s been a scary few days. I know that.” She kisses Gem on the forehead, then hugs her back even tighter. “If Xornoth thought I had a dysfunctional sleep schedule, they could’ve just told me.”

Gem snorts. “Glad to have you back.”

“Anytime.” Pearl stops in the hallway and takes Gem’s hands. “Listen to me, okay? No one is going to die. We’re going to defeat Xornoth, and no one is going to die. This isn’t the end of the world. I promise.”

Gem doesn’t let go. Pearl doesn’t either.

[hornyhermitry]

Eat Me, Drink Me

Word Count: ca. 5,000 Sukuna x Reader, True Form Sukuna x Reader

Rating: NSFW, 18+

Warning: dark, explicit, gory, filthy, violence, power dynamics, horror, porn without plot, consensual near death sexperience, monsterfucking, vaginal sex, anal sex, double penetration, blood, blood as lube, sukuna in chains, drinking blood, its a lot of gory fucking but its hot, in case anyone is wondering what it's like to die on his dick - this hopefully comes close // I was invited to a beheading today I thought I was a butterfly next to your flame A rush of panic and the lock has been raped This is only a game, this is only a game I see my horror mirrored in the sundown of your blank stare Eat me, drink me, this is only a game - Marilyn Manson - Eat me, Drink Me // Eat Me, Drink Me - Sukuna x Reader

Sukuna found himself in the middle of a dimly lit space, sitting on an old-fashioned wooden chair, his wrists and ankles chained to the ground. The air was hot and muggy and when he scanned the area, the ancient curse noticed candle-lit walls with all sorts of rusty chains attached and others dangling from the ceiling.

You closed the distance between you and him and put both your hands on his thighs, absentmindedly straightening his loose-fitting robe’s wrinkles with your thumbs. You leaned over him and whispered an “I’m glad you’re here.” into his ear that he met with a confident laugh and forcefully yanked at the chains, expecting them to break free so he could snap your neck in an instant.

The metal pieces rattled and bit into his flesh. Sukuna’s laugh died in his throat and he stared at you - a lowly human turned into his captor - in disbelief.

He pulled at the chains again using more strength, expecting them to rip any second, but nothing happened. The chains withstood his attempts at breaking free. Not even with cursed energy did their links budge.

“How are you...?”

You let go of his thighs. You let your thumb trace along the ink lining his jaw and confidently smiled back at his glowing red eyes.

“This is my domain, King of Curses. You have no power here.” The expression on Sukuna’s face changed into a bored dismissal.

“Isn’t this torture chamber set up a bit outdated? What are you, from the 1100s?”

He rattled his chains again for effect, not expecting much to happen this time but using the distraction to take a closer look at his surroundings and the nature of your domain.

You moved your thumb up from his jawline, carefully tracing his lips, and lingered there while you studied his eyes.

“You need to clear your mind if you want out.”

Sukuna met your gaze and after a long moment of silent contemplation and gauging your intentions, he placidly licked your thumb, the bored expression not leaving his face.

While your eyes were locked as he did so, your hardening nipples did not escape his second pair of eyes. His casual voice matched the lack of a smile on his face.

“Leave or you will die today.”

A tired half-smirk and you pulled away, walked around the chair and stopped behind his back. One hand was now resting on his right shoulder. He could hear the other hand shuffling something. On the back of your hand he could see a gloating demonic face inked into your skin, laughing at him. A snake and hieroglyphics from the book of the dead were winding around the arm out of sight. Mustering it, he mused that it was possibly connected to you curse technique. Or maybe you were just really into death. Something stirred in him.

After some clattering sounds that could have been from shaking small objects in a container behind him, he felt your breath on his neck.

“As long as you desire, be it my death or something less sinister, you will be chained here.”

There was another sound he couldn’t quite identify and then he heard you sharply inhale. Your body winced, in what he assumed to be sudden pain, behind him. Your attempt to prolong your technique backfiring did not escape his attention.

Relaxing his shoulders into your grip and leaning back into the chair, the King of Curses closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring up for show. “You’re bluffing. Your technique is not tied to desire. I can smell your fear.”

Your left hand grabbed him by his scalp and pulled his head back so you could observe the arch of his muscular neck while your right hand slid around it and pushed down the collar of his robe to reveal his defined collarbone.

“I can smell you’re rotten inside out.”

Sukuna smiled patiently, eyes closed. “I can also... smell your excitement." He leaned his neck back against your arm snaking around him. "Back in the day, women would run from me, terrified. Terrified I'd tear their flesh and bones off and feed on them alive and screaming. What strange times I’ve incarnated in.” He audibly inhaled and after a few seconds scrunched his nose in disgust. “You’re in heat.”

He pulled at his chains again. The constraints did not give in, but he felt you were briefly startled before you tightened your grip on his scalp.

“Stop it. I told you you won’t be able to free yourself.”

Your eyes were relishing the sight of his exposed neck, but when the curse opened all of his four eyes with a wide open-mouthed grin and looked up at you, his captor, he saw a flicker of doubt on your face. You noticed that he noticed and just as he sensed your heart skipping a beat, you landed a hard slap on his face.

A wolfish grin exposing sharp fangs split his face from ear to ear and his eyes widened in malicious anticipation.

“Your name, suicidal fool. I want to know who I’m carving up tonight.”

You forcefully pushed his head away from you and down onto his chest before stepping away from him.

Once again, he could hear something metallic whir in the air and then heard you catch it with your hands. Pain shot through your body when your ankle snapped as your curse technique failed and your breath turned heavy. Your gambling spell had backfired. Your heart rate increased and your growing fear permeated his nostrils. Sukuna had heard your bones crack.

When you came back into his view and stood in front of him, tucking a brazen coin into your pocket, he noticed the change in your posture. You were doing your best to hide it, but your left foot was visibly injured.

“Alright, we’re gonna have to speed this up a bit.” was what you threw at him with a lopsided half-apologetic sneer before ripping his robe open, exposing his marked and well-toned body. Your hands made quick work of your own belt and pants, with the latter awkwardly hanging around the calves as you pushed the knee of the injured leg on the little seating surface between Sukuna’s unabashedly spread legs. He was still held in place by tight chains - but for how much longer would he be? After steadying yourself on one leg by briefly holding on to his shoulders, you pulled your shirt over your head and revealed bold black ink spanning from your sternum to your belly button while your knee gently pressed against his crotch.

A minute ago, Sukuna had wondered how you pathetic mortal could ever so arrogantly assume you would get what you wanted from him, but that perfectly centered ink spread over your torso practically invited him to cut your flesh open right there and pleasure himself with your hot and wet entrails spilling out. He reconsidered your desire. The thought of wrapping your failing organs around his cock as you would watch in horror, bleeding out on him spilling his seed into your dying body, stirred up an irksome need in his groin.

When your flat hand slid along his inner thigh and over his growing dick, the feeling of his smooth, hot skin under your fingers made your breath hitch for a moment. You grabbed his wild pink mane for balance, murmuring your name into his neck.

“It's (Y/N).”

You placed your right hand between your own most sensitive spot and his and started getting to work. With your fingers gently wrapped around the base of his semi-hard on you started stroking him, closed your eyes and reveled in the sensations your strokes sent through both of you.

Sukuna’s clenched fists were firmly held in place by the now-dangerously strained chains and he smiled at you with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. Gaze locked with yours, he exhaled into the motions of your servicing hand, musing that this should soon be your cut open throat as your decapitated head watches in its last moments alive. When he spoke, his voice was as cold as ice.

“I will kill you, (Y/N).”

“Yeah. I know.” You continued in between strokes, working both of you up, heavy breathing onto his cheek.  “What I did today was really pretty damn stupid.”  You pulled his head back a bit and looked at his four eyes, let go of your grip on his dick and mounted his thighs with your right leg. With a hopelessly crooked smile, you dragged your slippery folds along his whole length and buried your face in the curve of his neck. You were absolutely lost in the foreshadow of the pleasure you were about to draw out of the monster between your burning thighs and slowly rubbed your groin against his.  “But, you know. Now that I’m in this mess, I plan to enjoy it before it's lights out.”  You hungrily licked up his neck and face, over his smaller right eyeball and pushed your lower body down until his dick filled you up completely. He could feel how your pussy was working extra shifts right now trying to accommodate him in one go. After all, you were rather tiny and he was the King of Curses.

The King of Curses stared at you in disbelief as you breathlessly chuckled—still struggling with moving on his size—that it’s a bit disappointing to see someone with 4 eyes, 4 arms and 2 faces only have one dick.

The up-until-now tightly strained chains rattled loudly towards the ground as Sukuna let his arms relax and dangle at his sides. A wide smile split his face again and he probingly moved his hips, thighs and pelvis up, testing the alleged limits of the domain technique to see if he could shove himself deeper into you, because still, your insides had not yet adjusted to his length. His firm girthy flesh not only stretched the width of your insides but also pushed against the momentarily not so far end of your tunnel and made you groan in pain.

You let go of his shoulders and straightened your back, your hands looking for purchase on his thighs and knees behind you. He watched your face closely as he pulled back an inch and then, agonizingly slow but relentless, pushed his cock against your refusing inner muscles that were screaming at him for more time to relax and adjust. Sukuna wondered whether you were leaning back to have more room to get away from his thrusts or intentionally wanted him to have a better view of how he was penetrating you. The latter was the case, but as he found out when you told him to look at how deep inside your he is, but ultimately he didn’t care.

With your hips pushed forward, your nails digging into his knees and your upper body arched back, it was easy for him to imagine one slice to your abdomen. You rode him slowly and all he wanted was to open you up and watch himself penetrate your insides. The thought made him even harder and you gasped in pain when you felt him press against your most hidden parts, preparing to slowly impale you.

When you had steadied herself and your grip on his thighs, you gradually started meeting his thrusts and glanced down at where your bodies joined, the end of your tattoo pointing down towards his crotch. It was getting easier to glide back and forth, but Sukuna made sure each thrust hit a different spot deep inside you which made you close your eyes to let the individual pangs of pain pass through.

Your breathing was strained and your face was flushed when you looked up into the eyes of the 1000 year old King buried between your legs.

As you spoke up, your tone and your expression gave away that you were equally hurting and starving from need.

“Please fuck me up good.”

Shifting your weight onto your left arm and greedily taking in the sight of his naked body—how the strong black sigils stood out against his hard and rough muscles and guided your gaze down— you started grinding yourself hard against Sukuna. The cruel deity tattooed onto the back of your right hand caught his attention again—he knew this many-armed goddess of death well. She seemingly came to life, her twitching tongue mocking him under quickly flexing tendons when you pleasured yourself with your own fingers eagerly rubbing your clit.

Time was running out and your cursed gamble would end any minute now. You were very aware of it and the urgency of getting off before the murderous demon would snap your neck spurred you on.

Maybe it would even be painless and you’d climax just the moment he’d break free. It made your head spin that you were coming apart on a centuries old omnipotent god’s lap. The thought of maybe being the only human to ever experience this sensation made your pussy clamp down hard on him and you bit your lip.

Sukuna’s wide grin faded out and changed into a more subdued and cold smirk. He had stopped thrusting into you and instead watched you work your naked self into a state of ecstasy on his dick. Your grinding turned into slamming as you audibly grew wetter and strained groans turned into desperate moans.

A whisper fell between the two of you. "If only you knew how wet your cunt will be once I have it drenched in your own blood." Your clenching paired with a needy whimper fed the hunger in Sukuna’s groin and made him involuntarily twitch deep inside of you. You were a mortal woman purposely flirting with death and if death is what you wanted, he would give it to you. No one knew how to snuff out a human like him. He didn’t even have to wait until he was free of his chains.

A sharp pain pierced your insides and you cried out. Eyes wide in shock, you searched his disdainful face for an explanation, but found none. Instead, a new bolt of pain shot through you and it was so caustic, so uncomfortably deep inside, that it made tears well up in your eyes. The icy sneer on Sukuna’s face sent shivers down your spine and a sharp wave of pain momentarily paralyzed you when you realized Sukuna’s other mouth had wandered to his dick and sunk his fangs into your cervix. You bit your lip in horror as you felt it push its tongue into it. In a knee-jerk reaction, you tried to pull away from Sukuna’s lap and ripped at your own insides in the process. You gasped in breathless pain from the feeling of his teeth tearing at your cervix and leaned against Sukuna’s chest in an attempt to calm yourself with slow, deep breaths and force down the tears. When you peeked past his shoulder you saw the chains on the walls flicker. Time was up. Suddenly you felt nauseous. The temperature dropped. The hair on your skin stood up. A moldy taste filled your mouth. Your insides tightened, driving the teeth further into them and your toes curled up. You felt a hot breath next to your right ear and fear spread in your chest. With an ill feeling of nauseating needle pricks flooding the inside of your mouth, you turned your head. Sukuna’s face was right there and you flinched at the manic expression. Half of his face was bare teeth in a distorted grin, the other half was wide open eyes, with contracted fiery red pupils fixated on you.

“Let’s have some fun, stupid.”

Sukuna’s eyes widened even further in glee as the chains fell off his wrists and ankles and he was free. Time to play with his prey.

Your ears rang with the sound of metal crashing onto stone. The noise was disorienting and you couldn’t focus your eyes. Sukuna’s hands grabbed your thighs. Sukuna’s hands grabbed your neck. Sukuna’s hands violently pulled at your hair, jerking your head to the side. The pain inside you stopped but the relief was short-lived and immediately washed away by sickness dancing in your stomach. The room spun around you and you felt dizzy. Was he lifting you up? Tossing you? The next thing you felt was blunt pain when your back crashed into something solid. Pressing your thumb and index finger against the side of your nose to bring the focus back, you looked up and wished you hadn’t.

Towering over you stood Ryomen Sukuna in his full form, the open robe hanging down his sides and four arms framing his tall, bulky stature. With one left hand he combed his hair back. One right hand was lazily tugging at his blood-dripping erection, and the other two hands were generously flexing their fingers to get rid of the tingly feeling the chains had left. His face was split into two and with all four eyes he voraciously observed the volatile jujutsu aura surrounding you in front of him. With his burning eyes locked onto you, he had you trapped between his body and the wall behind you, naked and bleeding, at his mercy. The short-lived domain, your injuries and that aura around you blazing like a brushfire one second and nearly dying away the other - it all fell into place for him.

“I see what you are, foolish sorceress. You can gamble with curse energy to shape reality and your technique to contain me in a fake domain somehow pulled through. Were you trying to imprison me? Lock me away? Kill me?”

With each question the pitch of his voice went lower until the final question came out as an amused growl.

You stared up at him, your chest rising and falling a few times before you replied.

“You turn me on.”

There it was again. That spark of unexpected excitement chased through Sukuna’s chest and made him snicker through his fangs.

“Your spirit intrigues me,” he said, his voice permeated by a gleeful giggle. “In that case, let’s find out how lucky you and your jujutsu are today.”

He brought his unoccupied hands into position and pressed his fingers together—two eyes open, two eyes cruelly winking at his victim.  “Domain Expansion. Malevolent Shrine”. Your surroundings sped away as he uttered the words. A sinister temple gate rose up behind him and then you were surrounded by darkness.

Comfortably seated on a giant pile of skulls stacked up in front of the temple gate, Sukuna was observing how you looked around in the dark, disoriented, and leaned back into a generous backrest made from a giant shoulder blade. His insides were tingling in anticipation of what was to come.

On the one hand, you deserved to suffer before he would kill you for the insolence of attempting to trap him. On the other hand, his lower body also craved to explore your desire for his violence. The thought of abusing you on the bones of your mortal predecessors before he would make your one more skull cementing his throne brought him joy. It had been a while since he last took his time to spill his seed into a human. Above all, a willing one and not one sacrificed to him. A small mouth appeared in the palm of his hand and licked some of the drying blood off the softening flesh between his legs. Humans could only taste the metallic note of blood, but Sukuna could taste the actual person contained in the blood. He hummed to himself and relished the taste. Guilt. Willfulness. Hunger. A disdain for life which he couldn’t quite pin down. An intoxicating flavor profile that made his blood rise. He wanted more and it was audible in his deep, sensual voice.

“If you make it to me in time, I will consume your body just the way your filthy soul craves, (Y/N).”

When his words cut through the darkness, torches lit up left and right to his throne of mortal remains and allowed you to see.

There was a notable distance between you and he was looking down on you in a way truly befitting for a King. You felt infinitely small under his smug red eyes, but also elevated and fueled by his challenge.

Just as you took a step and were about to ask about the time, you were stopped in your tracks by another wave of dizziness that hit you. Your balance was completely off and the words didn’t come. Then you felt it. Something warm was coming down your throat and your eyes widened in horror as the realization settled in. Grasping at your neck and stumbling forward with wide, painful gasps for breath, you looked up at Sukuna who licked his lips and rested his head on his right arm. “Tick, tock.”

The blood you gurgled ran down your soft breasts and he took his time enjoying the view while your eyes were racing around the room, probably in sync with your thoughts.

You were able to figure this out, you told yourself. 'Stop panicking. You have 30 safe seconds to fix this. Walk. Slowly. Ignore the dizziness. Don’t look down. Think. Your heart is beating too fast. Calm down.' You couldn't help your thoughts running wild in panick and excitement. 'He looks delicious in this light. Will he really fuck me. I want to die on him. I want his cock so deep in me I’ll throw up from it. Stop. Focus. Calm down. Just a few more steps and then climb up the skulls. Hold tight. Yes, that. Hold. Tight.'

With both hands you firmly applied pressure to your throat to slow down the blood loss. Sukuna watched as you limped forward, chest rising and falling slower than before. The blood pouring out of your slit throat trickled down your body, over your thighs and dripped into the pool of blood you were wading through. With your bloody thumb, you flipped the coin hoping to at least stop the bleeding. The horror on your face disappeared and was replaced by determination and relief. Heads. You weren't powerful enough to fully heal yourself with a reverse technique, but you successfully gambled to redirect and seal the flow of your curse energy so you could control your blood pressure just enough to avoid losing more.

The voice Sukuna spoke with was deep and evocative, resonating with a need between your legs that made your knees weak. The terrifying wave of power that hit you in the aftermath was like a bat smashing your face and knees and you collapsed onto the ground.

“Crawl on your knees, like the vermin you are.”

The impact made you splutter blood from your mouth and neck despite the protective spell and you felt lightheaded. Everything seemed a bit distanced, as if you were Sukuna watching yourself creeping towards him. For both of you it was hard to say how long it took - five seconds or 5 minutes - you were mesmerized by the unfolding events, but between subdued fits of blood coughing, you made it through the lake of blood ready to swallow you up. As you reached the edge of the piled up skulls, you proceeded to pull yourself up by the skull horns, leaving a bloody trail where you dragged yourself across the bones.

Just as your right hand grabbed the skull next to Sukuna’s right foot, a wave of disproportional euphoria washed over you and he witnessed a very strange sound emerge from your open throat. He leaned forward with a raised eyebrow, the smug smile nearly reaching from ear to ear. “Was that miserable sound a laugh?”

As a response, you looked up at him and nodded while repeating the gurgling sound, this time louder and with a wide open mouth, the happy grin tainted by the blood covering your teeth. That combination sent his arousal on a roller-coaster ride from his tattooed chest down to his naked groin and did an extra loop at his lower stomach. In a swift motion, he impatiently pulled you up and onto his lap. Two of his arms kept you from falling off of him. Your body was sweating profusely and shaking erratically. You tilted your head and looked at him, your face still a euphoric grimace. The heat between your blood-drenched thighs was waiting for him and as your body was caught in another brief shaking fit from the blood loss that made your nipples delightfully hard, he felt how you needily pressed your groin against his. A few strands of hair had fallen over your face and hung in the bloody spit at the corner of your mouth. He pushed them back to get a good view of your piercing eyes and reciprocated your borderline lunatic anticipation. Rubbing his returning hard on against the puffy lips between your legs, he was pleased to feel that your insides were bleeding enough to skip the foreplay.

“I will satisfy your cravings, mortal. But I won’t tell you to not be frightened. You will also satisfy mine.”

Eagerly he pushed into you and grabbed you by your open neck with one giant hand, at both sides of your ass with another two and pushed your lips apart with a long sharp fingernail of the last one. Holding your body firmly in place, he moved you up and down on his dick a few times, relishing the wet and warm sensation of your spasming and bleeding muscles, until he had you in the right position to comfortably slam against that special spot inside of you. Under his hard thrusts and his unsympathetic grin, your eyes widened in shock - at how good he made your feel. The slow but rough way he hit that hard spongy tissue inside of you again and again turned your body and your desire into a windup toy wrapping tighter and tighter around his cock. Each time he slammed into you, you jerked on his lap and firmly pressed your open neck against his strong hand, nestling into his chokehold on you. He could feel you twitching around him—how you were approaching the high you chased—but he was hungry for more of your taste. Sukuna wanted to push you towards your breaking point, but also to consume you. His little additional mouth appeared on his crotch and between excruciatingly slowed down thrusts that stretched your hole to its limit, he started to suck violently on your clit. The sensations made you practically jump on his dick and you started whimpering under his actions. You were losing control of yourself, unable to focus on reliably keeping up the technique to stop the bleeding in the pleasure Sukuna forced on you, and he willingly drank from the blood pouring out of your neck again.

Some of it ran down your body, trickling down your sides and back and you couldn’t tell anymore what was sweat and what was blood running down your spine.

Unable to talk, stuck in limbo between life and death and going mad with pleasure, you were putty in Sukuna’s hands. So this was what it felt like to have your entire being broken apart by the King of Curses. It was wilder than what you had hoped for and the thrill of it was burning up your soul. Your mind couldn’t comprehend what you had done to deserve this, but then again the fatality of it was exactly what you deserved after all that you had done in your life. Your body was falling apart and yet you had never felt higher or more complete.

Sukuna enjoyed tasting these thoughts in your blood. It fueled him to feel how you drank up his unique mixture of death with such lust that set your core on fire, but you still weren’t broken enough for his liking. And he still had a misconception to fix.

With the huge middle and index finger of the hand on your lips, he sliced your tongue open and pushed deep down into your throat to make you gag until his fingers were sufficiently coated with your saliva and blood. His lips brushed your earlobe and his slicked up fingers wandered down your back and caressed your spread cheeks. Then he pushed his lubed fingers into the one place he hadn’t assaulted yet and more pain mixed into the pleasure his unnaturally big cock and his second mouth were already giving you. The sudden change of sensations made you gag on the blood in your throat even more. His thick, long fingers not only worked your defiant muscles but also ripped flesh open in the process. Quivering with anticipation, an unstable giggle was mixed into his words when he pulled his fingers back out and briefly lifted you up. “You’re gonna like this one.”

Before you had time to fully catch up, thoughts racing through a maze of pleasure, cursed energy and pain, Sukuna pushed both his dicks into your orifices and bottomed out at an erratic pace.

Now his giant hand wrapped tight around your neck and choked you with an iron grip so draining, it also served to hold you in place to take his deep thrusts without a way out. The two hands holding your thighs clawed at your skin to pull your violated holes even further apart. Your limp body was shaking from exertion and pleasure and your head was spinning out of control. Your thoughts were falling through a burning vertigo with no end.

A high-pitched wheezing came out of your windpipe and you grabbed onto Sukuna’s hair to ground yourself in a physical reality beyond the sensations he made your capitulate to. You tried to look into his eyes but were unable to keep yours open under his domineering movements. He started sucking and licking at your yearning clit again, while his two cocks pitilessly fucked into your overstimulated and hurting openings. He worked your aching body into madness. A sharp fingernail traced down your neck and playfully ripped at the flap of open skin on your neck. Sukuna savored how you winced at the sensation and your overstretched holes tightened around both his cocks while he drank more of your blood.

Pleased with your taste full of willful guilt and pleasure, he let his hand slide down to your right breast and gently scratched across the tender skin. You couldn’t make any proper sounds anymore other than animalistic grunts and gurgles and your muscles were contracting faster and more violently around him, but you reacted to his touch and arched your back to put your lusciously blood-covered breasts on better display for him.

Sukuna took note of both your responsiveness and your oncoming climax and hummed into your ear.

“Now we get to the frightening part. Shame you can’t scream anymore.”

With that, he started aggressively pounding into your and a searing pain shot through your chest. His sharp fingernails had pushed deep into your rib cage and his fingers were closing around your heart. The preservation technique was completely futile against this. Your life had been hanging on a very thin thread those past few minutes and relied on the blood you still had left. Sukuna's strong fingers squeezed your heart so violently with each of his deep and greedy thrusts into your cavities that blood squirted out of your mouth and covered both of your bodies in a crimson stream that started pooling between your legs. Hideous gasps for air echoed through the domain and grew louder with every impossible breath. Your body went into overdrive. You were burning up. He was draining you. Draining your sanity, draining your blood and draining your life. Sweat started coming out of every pore. The lightheadedness was getting worse, the nausea was back and yet your whole world was spinning in pleasure and pain so intense, something in your head snapped. Terror and pleasure. Death throes or an infinite climax. Your heart fought against his merciless fingers and lost. Pleasure washed over you as reality sped away. Your body spasmed violently on his and it took only a few more thrusts for Sukuna to shoot his seed into your dying body. All your muscles from neck to stomach to legs contracted around him in a wretched last act of rebellion against the inevitable and milked his lust to the last drop.

Your strengthless fingers let go of his hair and your arms fell to your sides. Sukuna watched exhausted as you slumped into his arms.

Muttering to himself, he pushed you off his lap and stood up to stretch his legs and tie his open robe back up. Your body slid down the pile of skulls and came to a halt midway. The curse energy surrounding your body cast a weak, subsiding light onto the bones around you. Stepping down from his throne, Sukuna produced a brazen coin from his pocket. After a few seconds of contemplation, he squatted down next to your motionless body, slapped your face and put the coin in your hand. For a brief moment, your curse energy flickered with a ghostly shimmer.

“Flip it. If you‘re fortunate you‘ll get to live for another round.” - written by Jisatsu777 // HornyHermitry, April 2021 Also on AO3

[chosos-mascara]

The Devil Exists-  Ryomen Sukuna 

cw: devil!sukuna, true form!sukuna, mentions of occultism, death and blood, dub-con, dark themes!

The cult you were born into summons the demon Sukuna, and he happens to find you.

minors+ageless dni. 1.7k words

You'd always had your doubts. Each time you'd come to church with family, praying, devoting your lives to a God you weren't sure existed, you'd thought of leaving. The religion your family had been a part of seemed to be more of a cult to the outside world, yourself included. 

You'd been at home, playing sick to miss the midnight mass, sick to your stomach when you'd heard the blood curdling scream of one of the lives they'd sacrificed only a few houses from your own. It seemed almost comical that this was your life, growing up in the middle of nowhere, no genuine life skills other than how to hold a blade or read the texts of your deity. Sukuna they'd called him, a beast with four arms, two faces, black ink etched into his skin to signify his power. It was hard not to know the ins and outs of his appearance with him being painted onto every book, every wall in your home having some sign of your families devotion. 

The rest of the world hadn't an idea of what was really happening - in fact, you hadn't truly known. Your parents were high members of the church you were a part of, themselves and their colleagues planning this night for over a decade. They were to bring him into manifestation, with the 100th sacrifice being just killed. 

You laid in bed, staring at the ceiling as you'd witnessed a flash of light through the window. Turning your head, you rushed to sit up as you peered through the glass. You hadn't heard of a storm coming, but the flash of light had to be lightening, right?  Squinting your eyes, you made out a figure leaving the church your parents had resided in, they'd looked to be covered in something - was it blood?

You stumbled backward, legs hitting your bed as you fell, ass hitting the mattress. The figure had 4 arms. Mouth wide open, you pinched yourself, over and over, restless mind flipping upside down with the realization that he was real - Sukuna. And, before you'd tripped over, he'd made eye contact with you through the dirtied pane of glass.  

Four eyes, two on each side of his face, a wide grin as they'd met with your face, shocked expression as you'd resided in the safety of your room - only, you weren't safe. As your trembling hands were brought to your face, shielding your eyes from the horrors that your family had unleashed on the world, you heard movement in the room around you. Too scared to look, you'd pretended you weren't aware of the presence, keeping your hands pressed into your face. If your family had summoned the demon himself, they'd be dead. You were to follow, too. 

"Your kind confuses me." A voice from beside you caused you to shudder. "You dare to touch my soul?" His voice was deep, piercing through the ringing in your ears, as if touching a part of you that wasn't physically there - was this the aura of a deity? Moving your face slowly, you gain some form of confidence to peer over at the presence in your room. He was real.

"Who-" You began to question, unable to fathom the possibility that your parents religion hadn't been in vain, they had in fact been correct. As a child, they would tell you of the day that Sukuna would grace the earth and have those who'd aided in his return descend to Hell with him, an honor, they'd call it. It hadn't sounded appealing to you - the way they'd described the burning depths, how those would pay for Earth's sins, but you'd played along with the facade. 

"I didn't aid in your return." You comment, quietly, as he paced toward you, towering above your slouching frame. You recluded as much as you could, but one of his four hands grasped your face within its fingers, all eyes watching over your frightened face as you'd studied his. His smile was wide, abnormally large over his face - as if his appearance hadn't already defied all odds of existence.  "You're a clever girl." The words that had been spoken hadn't come from the grin on his face, but a separate mouth that had morphed into his hand, before disappearing. It didn't seem to shock you, though, already seeing enough to believe anything was possible from his body. 

"Do you know of the blood that runs through you, girl?" This time the grin had faltered, allowing the question to flow from his tongue, as he bent his legs to reach your level, face inching closer to yours. You furrowed your brow, Sukuna inhaling deeply as you'd watched his eyes roll back. It had appeared he was smelling you, but the reasoning behind his behavior was yet to be explained. You simply waited for him to finish his indulgences. 

"Your blood," He breathed deep once more. "it's mingled with my own. You're to be my bride!" He laughed, a fit of amusement so sadistic and maniacal, unlike anything your human ears had heard before. It breached terror through you, a deep, snapping feeling in your stomach as you watched his show of mania before you, confusion suppressed by your own horror. 

"I don't-" You stuttered on your words, wondering if the deity was able to hear you through his hilarity. "I don't understand." Tears brimmed within your eyes, awaiting some sort of explanation from his conduct.  "Your parents must have cared for you, sweet girl." He calmed when looking over your intimidated features, exhaling. "They had you eat something of mine - my heart." 

You wanted to scream, telling him how wrong he was, when you'd felt yourself overbared with a vision - a memory. Deeply embedded within the depths of your brain, a recollection of an event that had occurred when you'd been only four years old. You'd been sat within the center of a pentagram, the church's descendants watching as you gagged and cried, chewing back the rubbery folds of a heart, unable to understand why you'd been forced to do such a thing, but complying with the practices as you hadn't any other choice. Once finishing, you'd collapsed, stomach aching with discontent, feeling nauseous from the organ you'd devoured, but feeling an energy rise through you. One, that you now felt reside within the pit of your stomach, within your blood. 

Sukuna's contentment brought you from the apparition, along with a feeling of dread as you'd accepted the fact your fate was sealed. You could have escaped your parents, but they'd already decided you were to be a part of their plan, no matter your inner conflict. 

He grabbed you by your throat, pushing you down to the mattress you'd been sat upon, other arms ripping the shirt you'd worn open, then moving to tug at your jeans, making quick work of the man-made fabric. You laid, unmoving, exposed to the demon before you, his eyes roaming over your delicate skin and assets.  "I'm going to claim you, my bride." His words echoed through your ears, heart pounding through your chest as his hands roamed you, gripping at your thighs, a hand on your chest, all while holding your neck to the bed below you. You'd considered trying to fight him off and run, but you'd known there was no use. If what he said was true, he'd be able to find you, and when he did, you'd known he wouldn't be kind. 

He spread your legs, placing a hand to your folds, watching your guise falter as the sensation hit you - he'd summoned a mouth to his hand, licking and flicking a tongue over your cunt, tasting at your folds. You hadn't been aroused before hand, so he'd had to work to get your pussy lubricated, though once he'd began his work, it hadn't taken much. You fought the urge to display your pleasure at the murderous incubus before you, but as the tongue jerked over your swollen clit, fingers tracing circles around the opening of your cunt, you let out a strained moan, back arching. He laughed, but not as he had been before - more of a composed chuckle than the previous unruly howls. 

He dipped his fingers in you, scissoring two in and out, clearly attempting at widening you before his cock could begin to line at your entrance. You squirmed beneath him, breathing labored with each of his movements. The hands that had been roaming your thighs held them spread, while he moved the hand from your throat to grip your chest, rolling two fingers over your nipple. Cry after cry, you felt yourself tightening over his fingers, cunt soaked with his saliva and your own wetness growing closer to orgasm, as much as you'd hated the idea.  "Cum for me, doll." His command ricocheted through your body, a twisting feeling within the pits of your abdomen as your body jerked under his hands, nothing less than a scream rattling through you as you climaxed. He'd made quick work of you, but hadn't planned to stop. His tongue continued on, when coming down from the high, he'd added another finger. It was either three or four - you weren't sure, just laying helplessly beneath four arms. 

He gave no warning when he'd removed his hand from you, but with the sudden hit of cool air on your soaked slit, you were thankful. Whatever he'd just done to you was beginning to feel too much, and you'd needed a second to come down - though this wasn't granted. Instead of thick fingers, he pushed something much larger at your hole. 

You'd struggled to stretch over him, attempting to relax yourself as he pushed into your cunt, barely able to accommodate the girth that the demon had endowed, squealing in discomfort as he'd worked himself in you. He didn't let up, continuing to push you until you'd be forced into housing his manhood.  "Can't-" You yelped weakly, praying he'd ease up on you.  "You can do it, baby." His endearment was uncanny, intent behind it not for your own well-being, but his pleasure. "Forgot how tight humans are." He grunted, feeling you squeeze over him as if gripping for dear life - not that you'd be alive much longer. If you were to be beside him, you wouldn't be able to keep such a weak mortal form. This may be the only time he'd get to fuck you as you are, feel your tight clutch over his throbbing meat, so he'd take this time to enjoy the moment. 

[fanartfunart]

The Light is Not What Hurts You

Chapter 5

Ao3- Chapter 1 - Chapter 4 -

Warnings: grief after major character death, minor self-injury out of frustration, arguments, angst

-

They rode in silence, the rain and speed not making it easy to interrogate the Shadow Demon, nor do much else but focus on encouraging the horses to follow the right path.

The woods grew thick. The rain eased, and the sky brightened. The horses were too large to continue with, so the boys dismounted. Shadow slipped off the horse like spilled ink falling off it's back. He glanced at the others with a light frown.

“Thank you so much” Red cheered, petting the horse's nose, “I will miss you sooooo much.”

Blue fed each horse the remaining carrots he'd gathered for them. He hugged one, taking in a deep inhale of the sent of hay and wet fur.

“You ready yet?” Green asked, tilting his head towards the other two.

“Mhm!” Red cheered, smiling.

Blue kissed his horse quickly in farewell. He sputtered, wiping horse hair out of his mouth. “Ugh, whatever, stupid animal.”

“You didn’t have to kiss it.” Shadow snarked. 

“Shut up, I’ll stab you.”

Shadow shrugged, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I'm just trying to be helpful.”

“Helpful.” Blue echoed in a growl.

“You shouldn't blame the animal for the actions of their idiot owner.”

Blue punched him in the face. Sharp blue eyes focused and deadly. 

“You an animal, now? Is that it? Vaati or this Ganon shit made you do it? Don’t blame the dog for biting the first hand that crosses its face?”

Shadow stumbled backward. He restrained himself from reaching up to cradle the tender spot on his face. It stung. He wanted to lunge back. He wanted to cry. He felt like a coiled spring, tight and full of restrained energy.

“No.” He kept his hands at his sides. Clawed nails dug into his own palm. A sneering grin pulled at his lips. “I’m worse than an animal.”

Blue stared him down, brows furrowed. “Right. You are a shadow, you should be a black outline on a wall behind us” Blue hissed, taking in heaved, measured breaths. “You don’t talk. You don’t move unless we move. You hear me? You shouldn't even be here!”

“I'm not and will never be below you, you volcanic brute-” Shadow growled at a hiss. Sharp and unnatural teeth pearly against greyscale skin.

“Let's just calm down and-” Green started.

The words that came to Shadow's mind next were sharp, cruel, and the perfect amount of retribution. It would make them listen. He didn't think further than that.

“If anyone shouldn’t be here, it’s the three lingering copies of a dead kid.” Shadow's cackling, vengeful laugh echoed in he air. Three faces looked pale and stricken.

The fourth echo that had settled in his mind sighed, soft, like it was a simple bad joke. Ignored him. The chaotic, violent thing in Shadow's chest turned to stone and sunk into his gut.

Like a empty field of lavender; Silence.

Shadow wondered if he hated Silence more than the Light, now.

Blue stared through him more than anything. His eyes still full of an ocean of rage, but the blues overwhelmed with a soft watery shimmer that made them glaze over. Red placed a hand on his shoulder softly. 

He yanked back, snapping back into life. “Don't touch me!” 

He took in sharp breaths. A roll of tears fell down his cheeks. He screamed a curse, turning and running ahead, shoving past Green.

Green turned and glared at Shadow.

Shadow set his gaze to the forest floor, a queasy unease settling in his gut. The sour sharpness turned bitter and stale on his tongue. He used the dying sense of snark to grumble, “Hey don't look at me, I didn't make him insane.”

“Red. Stay here and watch him. And… Don't talk to him. Please. Just. I can't.” Green huffed, turning to run after Blue.

Shadow sighed, leaning against a tree. “Weather sucks now, yeah? All stupid and bright.”

Red twiddled his thumbs, frowning.

“...Oh so you actually listen to him. That's boring.”

--

Bark flew as Blue punched and kicked at a tree. He screamed and cried as he tore into the innocent tree. His knuckles red from the abuse. 

“Blue. BLUE stop that!” Green called.

“Don't tell me what to do!” He shouted, punching the tree again with an audible crack in the bark. Green winced. 

Blue stilled, fist raised. With a wavering cry, he collapsed onto his knees. He sobbed, curled up around himself in a ball. Green softly approached, quiet and careful.

“Blue?” Green whispered.

“Go away,” He croaked.

He knelt down next to him, sighing, “I'm-” he sighed, thinking for a moment longer, “I really want to punch him too,” he said with an awkward laugh.

Blue huffed, turning his head in the opposite direction. 

“I'm sorry I haven't let you make many decisions about what to do. I should have asked how you felt before we dragged Shadow along. I've just… I've defaulted to what I always did. I'm not thinking like a team player. I'm sorry.”

“It's fine, whatever,” Blue sniffed, “It's nice to have somebody at least pretending to know what we're doing anymore.”

A soft silence settled between them. Green swallowed and laughed wetly, “Vio was better at knowing what to do than me.”

“He really wasn't,” Blue laughed, sitting up enough to wipe his tears. “He just sounded smarter about being an idiot.”

“Do you think he'd want us to be doing this?” Green asked quietly.

“Fuck if I know.” Blue sniffed. He smiled, wobbly. The corners of his lips flickered down. He choked on another sob, “UGh!” he huffed, rubbing his eyes and sniffing, “I hate him. He should've been with us! He’s supposed to be here! He was an idiot and I can’t believe he thought he could do that alone- Why did I think he could- we- We're all idiots.”

Green felt a tear roll down his own cheek. “Yeah,” he whispered.

“Very inspirational,” Blue joked, coughing on his tears.

He shook his head, leaning toward Blue. He leaned back in return. Green hugged him from the side, “We'll figure it out… Together.”

Blue nodded, rubbing away tears. His lip wavered and he sobbed again. He turned, shifting to hug Green properly, hooking his chin over his shoulder.

“I- I love you,” Blue whispered, barely audible under the sniffles and tears. “I didn't tell him and I-”

Green hugged him tight, taking in a deep breath. “Don't you dare get me started too. Then we're both gonna be sobbing.”

“Fine then, fuck you, hate you.” Blue mumbled with a teary giggle.

“H- hate you too.”

Blue choked a laugh. They settled there for a while. Leaves shook gently in the wind. Birds chirped overhead. A squirrel skittered up a tree, dancing around them. 

“We should get back to Red,” Blue finally whispered. “Even if I'd rather have more hugs.”

Green hummed softly. He nodded, held Blue tight, and stood. Blue yelped, flailing and laughing. “Hey!” 

Green hoisted him up over his shoulder, turning around. 

“This is why I hate you!”

“You're welcome.”

Green did set Blue down before they reached where they'd left Shadow and Red. They emerged from the treeline at a trudge pace, tired and drained.

Red looked up from where he'd been arranging twigs into random shapes, and stood. He looked them over. “Your hand!” he exclaimed, rushing to grab Blue's hand and look at it, the red marks and scratches sharp against tan skin. 

“Wait a second-” Red muttered as he grabbed into his pouch. He fumbled through it until he pulled out his med kit, smoothing a cream over Blue's knuckles. 

Blue sighed, looking away toward Shadow. The demon was lazing by a tree, arms crossed, gaze somewhere far away. The anger still boiled in his chest, but it had calmed, slightly. He felt less near exploding.

Red wrapped his knuckles with cloth, despite the fact the bleeding had long since stopped. He smiled, patting Blue's hand. “You okay?”

“No.”

“O-oh,” Red whispered, expression falling.

Blue sighed, “But better…Thanks.”

“Uh. Thought you guys might wanna know that Shadow just. Kinda stayed put.” Red said, shrugging awkwardly.

Silence settled as they turned to stare at Shadow. Tense and uncertain. Shadow's eyes finally flicked toward them. He sighed, standing.

He stretched casually, “Well? Are you going to make a fool of yourselves marching to Hyrule Castle or what? Your prisoner is bored.”

The trio glanced at each other. Green huffed, brows furrowed. “Right. Well. I still think it's better to keep an eye on him.”

“We still don't know what he wants out of going with us.” Blue grumbled. “He's being way too compliant. If obnoxious and rude.”

“It doesn't actually matter. We need the Sword.” Red whispered, looking at the shadow-obscured blade.

Green and Blue glanced at it. With that, the decision was settled with silence. An uneasy frozen moment stretching across the edge of the forest. 

Shadow huffed, turning to begin down the path, his shape changing once again to mirror Link as his whole self.

“Right. What are we waiting for?” Blue huffed, and set off to follow Shadow closely.

Green sighed and waved Red along after them.

[wangxianficrecs]

Follower Recs

~*~

I just reread my bookmark and found this WIP. It's character seeing the past

The Characters of MDZS Watching the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation 

by emma_screams

M, WIP, 147k, Wangxian

Summary: What happens when a suspicious letter was sent to all the clans, inviting them to an appointed location to learn about the truth of thirteen years ago and now? Will the Yiling Patriarch finally get the justice he seeks? Will Hanguang-Jun lose some of his regret? Will Jiang Cheng find the peace he desperately needs? And will the other Sect Leaders finally realize what a piece of shit they are get the faceslapping they deserve? But most importantly, will Wei Wuxian allow a drunk Lan Zhan to be viewed by the public? Find out in the epic series of the characters watching the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation!

~*~

i'd like to rec some fics for wip week!

i loved the description of "this is an lqr & wwx get-along-sweater fic" 😂 @danmeiireader

patching the road with vague intentions

by loosingletters (@loosingmoreletters)

T, WIP, 9k, Wangxian

Summary: “What have you done!?” thundered a voice Wei Wuxian had, frankly speaking, never wanted to hear again. “Old man Lan?” Wei Wuxian blurted out, staring at the aged face of his former teacher. At the back of his mind, Wei Wuxian remembered the cut of his robes, that he wasn’t dressed like a widow at all, but like a Lan. Lan Qiren looked around, his gaze stuck somewhere above Wei Wuxian’s head, most likely the half-ruined summoning array behind him – fucking stupid, Wei Wuxian should’ve gotten rid of it immediately. Just why did it have to be a Lan summoning him, why Lan Qiren his visitor at the door? Wasn’t death enough punishment? “Wei Wuxian?” Lan Qiren asked wearily. Or, Wei Wuxian is summoned back to life in the Cloud Recesses. Unfortunately, the person to find him is Lan Qiren, forcing the unlikely duo to work together to keep the circumstances Wei Wuxian's return undiscovered.

~*~

sibling dynamics! dadxian! magically turning yourself trans! 👌🏽 @danmeiireader

deeper than the ink

by loosingletters (@loosingmoreletters)

M, WIP, 49k, Wangxian

Summary: Lonesomeness, the state of waiting and wanting, being caught in an endless fog with no escape. Harried by the distance to Wei Wuxian and his sister’s impending marriage, Jiang Cheng makes a trip to the Burial Mounds that doesn’t end in just another screaming match, but a desperate scheme to keep his brother by his side. On a mountain of corpses, Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng damn themselves to one last lie.

~*~

i ADORE wen ning (like, in general, but especially in this fic) @danmeiireader

Where The Arrow Points

by Nillegible (@nillegible)

G, WIP, 4k, Wangxian

Summary: Wen Ning is thrown back in time to the archery competition at the Qishan Wen discussion conference. Before he died, and before a war. Last time he was here, he missed his shot, and was laughed away. This time he doesn't miss. (Or, Wen Ning pulls a Mockingjay at the Wen Sect's discussion conference, and changes the fate of the world.)

~*~

knives :) @danmeiireader

Every time you fall

by Nillegible (@nillegible)

T, WIP, 9k, Wangxian

Summary: “I always said that you would bring trouble to our sect,” says Madam Yu, following it up with a third strike, then more, one after another, each one jerking his body forward, robbing him of control enough to breathe, to think. He’s never felt pain like this before. Not the fiery lashes tearing the flesh on his back, the pain of his heart shattering as he realizes what will happen now. 'I didn’t know this would happen,' thinks Wei Wuxian. 'I was only trying to do the right thing.' For the first time ever, Wei Wuxian believes Madam Yu’s censure of him. I did this. I brought them here. My fault. (or: WWX decides the Wen attack on Lotus Pier is his fault, so he sends Madam Yu and Jiang Cheng away towards Meishan Yu, and runs back to save the others)

~*~

and i saw that you recced SSJ [💙Stunted, Starving Juvenility] (my beloved!!!), and i wanted to specifically rec its podfic! it's SO well done. the reader has a pleasant tone and pace, and does thoughtful character voices and even regional accents (an interpretation of them!). the podfic is OVER SIXTY HOURS (so far!!!!)(after editing!!!) so i'd like to give a nod to the insane amount of hard work that went into it ❤💙 @danmeiireader

Stunted, Starving Juvenility [Podfic]

by gndmlvr01

E, WIP, Podfic, Wangxian

Summary: Podfic of Stunted, Starving Juvenility, by TomatenMark Read by gndmlvr01, and posted with permission Please note: I did add on extra tags that I find helpful to locate works like this (ex: Genius WWX) Original story summary: At sixteen Wei Wuxian is—through some strange twist of fate, or a nick in the layer between parallel universes, who knows—out of the blue confronted with that one incense burner dream one night. While his curious mind is left unable to stop poking at this new perspective on Lan Wangji, circumstances in the Cloud Recesses begin to change and Wei Wuxian is suddenly presented with life-altering opportunities. Maybe Gusu isn’t so bad after all? (Or alternatively: The fic where I get to give Wei Wuxian the academic scholarship he deserves while simultaneously getting him hitched early on.)

~*~

oh no forgot one for wip week 😅

this fic was recced for an itmf i sent and i love the premise! @danmeiireader

Please Take This Radish

by Wildcard

M, WIP, 7k, Wangxian

Summary: “Are you telling me,” Jiang Cheng said, voice starting out in a low growl and then rapidly rising in volume, “That Wei Wuxian - the YILING PATRIARCH - reincarnated in his old bedroom?!” Xue Yang is the first and best disciple of the Yiling Patriarch. He is excellent at raising corpses, spectacular at making talismans and an expert swordsman. He is also 11 years old, trying to raise a toddler and has been mistaken for a de-aged Yiling Patriarch. Life is not going well.

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for these hard-working authors if you like – or think others might like – these stories.)

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Having just read your Tom Riddle in twilight fanfic, I love it but it's obvious Tom's character had to be adjusted to make sense in twilight. So... What if Tom Riddle's Horcrux diary falls through a hole in time and space and winds up in Twilight, what happens? Fuck it, let's go even harder and say that 16 year old (iirc?) Diary Tom winds up in Edward Cullen's hands.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to London by me and @therealvinelle

Also, why Tom is the way he is in the fic.

Caveat

I mean, keep in mind anon, that while he is adjusted, it's more that @therealvinelle and I spout the same sort of heresy for Harry Potter that we do for Twilight.

This is what we think Tom would be in a world where magic still exists but there's no Wizarding World and he happens to run across a crystal demon as a young man.

It's an adjustment but... if you're looking for sociopath Tom Riddle, you're not going to like the rest of this meta at all.

A Bit on the Diary (and Other Horcruxes)

I mean, the Diary is eternally sixteen. He's a bit like a vampire himself in a way in that he shoved himself in this container for fifty years, still seems to be in a very sixteen-year-old headspace and makes some remarkable choices when he was set loose.

Diary is always Peak Diary.

(Just as I will always believe the Locket tormented Ron with the equivalent of sock puppets of Harry and Hermione make out, complete with falsetto voices, "I love you so much, Harry! You're so handsome. OM NOM NOM, LET ME KISS YOU!" not so much to corrupt Ron because he found it fucking hilarious.

So much so, that his last moments are tormenting Ron, with fucking sock puppets.)

I will forever be upset we didn't see more of the horcruxes.

They're always such a hot, hilarious, beautiful mess.

Edward Finds the Diary and is a Fucking Nerd

Why am I picturing the pilot of Death Note where Light happens to notice a black little notebook falling out the window at his school?

Regardless, we'll say this is the start of Twilight and... why fucking not, that's exactly what happens.

Before Bella arrives (so as to keep this less complicated/Edward invested), Edward is in Forks, staring dully out the window in this purgatory he calls high school (that he absolutely doesn't have to go to, Edward, remember you made this choice, Edward).

Notebooks don't just fall from the sky.

Curious, Edward goes to retrieve it after school.

He finds it's a perfectly ordinary, if old, notebook. It has a worn cover, appears to belong to a T. M. Riddle (who Edward has never heard of and doesn't live in Forks, curious) but is otherwise empty.

What's interesting is that it smells unused.

There's no recent human scents on it, no grease from fingers, it smells sterile or at least as if it's been left alone for many years. So how did it get here?

Edward, who has been bored out of his fucking mind, has a mystery on his hands.

He eagerly enlists Alice.

"Edward, I can't see the future of fucking inanimate objects" Alice tells him dumbly, he can be a nerd about this one by himself, Alice isn't interested.

Rosalie suggests Edward try to at least find this T. M. Riddle and return it to him. Edward goes on a whole rant of how there is no Riddle in Forks. Rosalie's not that impressed, Edward's right, but he's overlooking that this book is old, and it could be a maiden name. It's probably someone's heirloom.

"How can it be an heirloom if it's empty, see?" Edward says, flipping through to Rosalie's dull eyed wonder.

Rosalie stops arguing and goes to the garage to work on her cars.

Edward can't wait to tell Carlisle but realizes just showing Carlisle an empty notebook that fell from the sky, with nothing more than that is... kind of lame.

He has to investigate.

Edward carefully searches the pages for invisible ink, or else traces of writing that was erased. He brings out the UV lights, everything, but there's not a hint of anything there.

It looks, for all intents and purposes, like an empty notebook.

But it can't be, of course, because then why would it fall from the sky.

("Maybe someone in a hazmat suit chucked it off the roof" Emmett suggests.)

Eventually, Edward's curiosity overcomes him, and he starts putting liquid on the page (he's been trying not to damage anything at this point). To his astonishment, it disappears!

Tom Rolls Out of Hibernation

Ye gads, Tom in the Diary says, waking out of... whatever the fuck goes on in the Diary (there be monsters in there, I'm sure). Someone's writing, this is his chance, perhaps his only chance.

He's taking advantage of it.

Tom responds to the line of graphite, or whatever it is, and starts writing back.

Edward... doesn't seem to think he's a person or sentient, Tom quickly realizes (Edward thinks Tom's a very clever machine of some kind with a chat bot kind of like ELIZA inside, he's not sure how it works, or what this paper is if it's not paper, but he's very amused by Tom's claims to have been a person in the 1940's).

Edward has great fun grilling Tom on his life in the depression in England and pointing out all Tom's historical inaccuracies.

Tom immediately loathes Edward for this alone, but Edward continues to prove himself what Tom has always despised.

Tom views Edward as hopelessly arrogant and complacent. Edward has all the opportunities in the world, all the money in the world, and he sits here whining about how school is so boring and his life is so pointless. Edward is content to wallow in his own romanticized misery, brought on by absolutely nothing in Tom's eyes, because Edward simply enjoys the idea of being romantically miserable so very much.

Edward also believes himself to be highly intelligent, is clearly a naturally gifted legilimens, but is arrogant in this assumption and always believes himself to be the smartest in the room (there's a lot of pitying of Tom the poor chat bot).

Tom is very eager to destroy this little man and is certain he has all the tools to do it: Edward has real demons he has to deal with and he lets his guard down around Tom, he's started treating the diary as a kind of chat-bot therapist diary who won't run off with the secrets he does not wish to tell the family but needs to get off his chest.

Tom will get him, sooner or later, he'll get this motherfucker.

Bella Arrives in Forks

Edward has his crisis but guess who's there this time?

Edward vents his private terrors to Tom, his doubt, his obsession, everything.

Tom has his window and now owns enough of Edward's soul to possess him.

Edward starts losing time, he blames Bella for this, as he truly believes she's some kind of demon sent to torment him. Tom feeds these suspicions by pretending to have stored away historical information of previous cases. Demons who take the form of women and slowly unravel their victim's psyche.

(In case you were wondering, Tom as Edward just goes to school and acts perfectly pleasant to Bella and everyone else. Making Edward, of course, seem unhinged whenever he comes back and he's lost a fucking day.)

Edward is terrified of telling anyone, let alone Carlisle, as he thinks he could be genuinely dying. However, if he murders Bella, then he's murdering someone who, at least from the outside, genuinely seems to be a high school girl.

Either Edward snaps and does it or Tom does it for him, Edward waking up to being covered in Bella's blood, eyes red, standing in her corpse.

Edward runs, now having lost himself entirely, and Tom drains the life force from him and walks off having had a grand time.

First on his agenda? Turning into a vampire, that looks like fun.

[elena-mayfair]

Endless Dream - Epilogue

Paring: Morpheus x f!reader, Sandman x f!reader Warnings: none Summary: It all began with a Witch who dreamt nightmares every night. Then she met Dream of the Endless and her life changed forever. She went on a journey through horrors and fears, through doubts and pain, but also through love and devotion. This is how their story ends. Word count: 1.2k Note: Gifs are not mine, credit to the authors.

Series Masterlist Part twenty: The Calling

***

Caroline had always wanted to be an actress. She had dreamed of it since she was a little girl. She dreamed of performing on Broadway, she dreamed of the big stage, of the spotlight. She dreamed of inspiring people through art, telling stories. She never had much support. Her parents thought it was foolish, naive. They told her she should come down to earth, stop dreaming, go to college, find a normal corporate job. She, however, never stopped dreaming. That day, for the first time, she discovered strength in herself, discovered the courage to reach for her dreams. She smiled, opened the door, and stepped confidently into the building. The sign on the door read "Audition."

*

Jacob did not like school. There were bullies in the school, they did not leave him alone. He was small, skinny and didn't talk much. Although he dreamed of standing up to them, he never found the courage to do so. After all, they were bigger than him, they were stronger than him. However, that day was the first time Jacob didn't run away when they started threatening him. For the first time, he didn't show fear when one of them lunged to strike him. He just gazed bravely, staring them straight in the eye. He did not scowl, did not show weakness. From that day on, they never bullied him again.

*

Rebecca was afraid when her husband came home drunk. She would hide in the kitchen pretending to be busy, hoping he would leave her alone. She dreamed of leaving but was afraid. She was afraid she wouldn't be able to raise two children alone. She was afraid that by leaving she would harm the kids. But she knew she couldn't live like that. That day, when she heard the sound of the opening lock, she felt determined to face him. She felt the strength to tell him she was leaving. She did not flee to the kitchen. She was not afraid. However, as soon as he stood in the doorway something changed. Her husband was sober. Her husband stood in the doorway with a bunch of full flowers and glistening tears ran down his cheek. "I don't want to be like this," he said and pulled a 24-hour beginner's token out of his pocket, "I'll fix it." From that day on, her husband never touched alcohol again.

*

John Constantine was not a man who regretted many things in life. Yes, he made mistakes, yes he was full of flaws and he was the first person ready to admit it. John, however, did not tolerate failure. Not in others, not in himself. But was it a failure that through his neglect he was possessed? Was it a failure that through his possession he led to the death of his only friend? A death that in the end led to the birth of a new force, a new being, a new power.

Inhaling slowly the thick cigarette smoke, he felt determined, not to let anything like that happen again. Failure or not, he had no intention of ever having a demon possess his body again. Cursing under the pain of the needle being driven into his skin, he watched as the antipossesion symbol appeared on his skin in black ink.

He smiled feeling that strong feeling of determination. That force to act. He knew that his friend had not abandoned him. He felt her presence in every decision he made, felt her influence in his every action. He knew she was happy. And in truth, the only failure was that of Lucifer alone.

*

All determination left David. He could feel only emptiness, consumed by despair. The strength he had felt earlier, which had guided his steps, was gone. He felt weak, powerless. Locked in a glass bottle, trapped, with no way out. Thrown to the bottom of an abyssal trunk. Left alone with emptiness. Forgotten.

*

In the Dreaming, peace reigned. Each day the sun rose high in the clear blue sky bringing warmth to the spring awakening early. Bringing new life, new dreams born of Determination and the Dream. Each night the moon and stars adorned the endless blackness of the sky. Spreading magic to the entire kingdom and all its inhabitants. How much strength Determination drew from the Dream, how strong the Dream became when Determination built him up endlessly. The Kingdom flourished, driven by the mighty power of Endless beings.

But even the stars shining in the sky were nothing compared to those that Determination saw in the eyes of the Dream as they danced amidst blooming fields of lavender under the cover of night. Like two shadows, enveloped in black. They danced so close that they shared a breath, danced as if they longed to become one. He kissed her lips red as blood, tasted the sweetness from her warm lips, relished at the delight of her scent, the closeness of her skin, the brightness of her eyes that flared with storm light every time she twirled with laughter in his arms.

"I would follow you down even through the gates of hell," Determination trembled as Morpheus drew her close, "I would save your soul, I would make you whole…" he sounded as if he sought forgiveness from her.

"I know," she replied with a kiss, "I know beloved."

"If you hadn't returned I would have declared war on Lucifer and the hosts of the armies of Hell," he continued, "I would not back down, I would shatter Death's crown I would bring you back to life."

"But I came back," she smiled, "I tied my life to yours, my fate to yours. How could I not come back to you."

The universe hummed a song for them and they whirled on amidst the purple and green. Stars danced in her hair each time he spun her around only to draw her back close to him.

"Do you love me as you loved me Dream?" Determination asked, "I am me, yet different. That girl you loved died. I don't know who I am now. Not yet."

"You are my strength, my hope, my dream," he replied and the stars in his eyes ignited with love, "I love you as you were and as you will be. I love you endlessly," he embraced her more tightly wrapping his cloak around her and the stars shone with something new, something unknown to her.

"I am all yours…" she whispered brushing her lips against his and he saw no shadow of hesitation in her. Only devotion, only love stronger than death, determination stronger than doubt. Pure strength burning with a blue glow in her eyes.

"Marry me…" came out from the depths of the night, "Marry me, my beloved. Be my wife, my queen. Be mine in dreams and in nightmares and I will be yours wherever you go."

"I desire nothing more…" the light shone in her eyes as he drowned out her laughter with a kiss, "Wherever our paths take us I wish to walk on them with you. Experiencing my new life with you. I never want to be parted from you again. I am yours in eternity."

" Endlessly?"

"To the end of time and existence."

~~The End~~

~~***~~

Author note: And this is how their story ends. I am kind of sad and happy at the same time. Sad because the story is over. Happy because the story is over! Because I finished it, wrote it, didn't lose my enthusiasm or let the worries of everyday life drive me away from writing. Because thanks to you my verve has not been extinguished. I will miss it. It has become a huge part of my life. And it has given me more than you can imagine. You, all of you, have given me so much. Your responses, your engagement, your feedback, your comments, you guys have restored my dreams. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. I hope you found this story and its ending as satisfying as I found writing it. Thank you to everyone who stuck with me to the end.

I will miss it, but as my favorite author likes to say, "There is always another secret." ;)

So for now I wish you all a very fond farewell. Until next time.

~~***~~

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[anonymous-dentist]

Stupid Idiot Death Knife

My piece for @dreamoirezine. I am now the c!punz expert. Go to the Dreamoire blog to download the zine itself, it's literally even badass.

-

Once upon a time in a land not too far from our own, there was a tower, and inside of that tower was a man on fire. Why he was on fire is not important, nor is the question as to how he came to be on fire. What is important is that there was a man, and that he was on fire, and that he was very unhappy with his current situation. 

“Fucking Tommy,” he swore (for that was the name of the absolute jackass that had set him on fire in the first place), hurriedly rushing to the nearest water basin to try and douse himself. “I’m going to kill him, I swear to god.”

(And that was where his troubles began, because when you swear to the gods, they sometimes even listen.)

He was in so much of a hurry to put himself out that he didn’t notice the sudden flash of light or the sudden trumpeting of angelic horns so high up in the heavens that even his tower couldn’t reach. He didn’t notice the sudden change in air pressure, nor did he notice the rise in temperature. 

What he did notice when he turned around from the basin was a tall golden table standing right in the middle of the floor where there was no table before. And then on that table was what appeared to be, by all means necessary, a dinky little rusty-ass dagger, and a neon green index card next to it covered in scribbly red-ink letters in a language he didn’t know. The only word he could make out was his name, Punz, and that alone was worrying enough to keep him from approaching fully. 

“What the fuck?” Punz asked, voice barely above a whisper. It was not terror that gave a notable termor to his voice, though it really should have been. No, it was confusion, and, above all, annoyance. 

He stared at the dagger, hair still smoldering and hoodie singed beyond all recognition. He was insulted, frankly, just a little. Just a little. Not because of the sudden divine intervention, but because whatever force had decided to bother him gave him the shittiest fucking knife that he had ever seen. Fae, demon, god, whatever it was, it obviously didn’t know his reputation. Because he was a mercenary, the best of the best. Diamonds were beneath him; how could iron even think to compare?

But still, he found himself picking the dagger up and turning it over in his hands. It had a good weight, at least, and the edges were still sharp. The rust almost looked like a bloodstain spread across the entire blade. 

Once more, he repeated, “What the fuck?” 

His eyes shifted from the knife to the card that had come with it. What were scribbles a moment ago were suddenly clear and legible English. 

Use Me :)

And, now, Punz wasn’t a stupid man. He might not have been Dream or Wilbur levels of intelligence, but he knew enough to know that suspicious knives with even more suspicious labels were baaaaaaad news. 

“Fuck this,” he declared, dropping the knife back onto its pedastal and backing away. 

He looked up at the ceiling as if it was watching him. (It was.)

“Yeah, no thanks,” he told the ceiling. 

On a whim, he flipped the card over and written on it was, And Get Your Just Rewards. 

And, now, Punz wasn’t a stupid man. He was not stupid, no, but he was greedy. Greed makes the world go ‘round, so they say. So when he saw the word ‘rewards’, his brain momentarily shut down. Little green dollar signs floated above his head, and he himself felt as if he was floating on a cloud. 

“I mean, I dunno…” he muttered, running a finger along the knife’s edge. It came away bloody, but he couldn’t tell his blood from the rust on the blade. “It’s just kinda fishy, y’know?”

He glanced back up at the ceiling again, waiting for a reply. No dice. 

As his eyes traveled back down to the dagger, they caught on a shine on the table that wasn’t there before. A single chunk of raw gold right where the dagger had been. 

Oh, Punz thought. The gold was cool against his burned palms. 

“My just rewards, huh?” he mused. He nodded. “Alright. Bet.”

And with that, he slipped the dagger into an empty sheath on his belt, and he stuck his bleeding finger in his mouth, and he took the gold to a chest upstairs, and he thought, Alright. I can work with this. 

-

There are very few things more powerful in this world than greed. Spite is one, hunger is another. (And then there was fear, but that was hardly relevant.) The other three he could work with. 

One, greed. He never liked to consider himself a greedy man. The word left a bitter taste in his mouth. Greed, no, he was just… well, he was greedy, but not in that way. Who wouldn’t want money? Money makes the world go ‘round. If he was broke, he wouldn’t be able to afford food or clothes or fancy decorative swords to hang on his walls, or Fortnite V-Bucks. It was just simple economics. Not greed; stonks. 

Two, spite. Punz liked to consider himself a pretty chill guy, all things considered. He wasn’t Sapnap or Tommy; if someone pissed him off, he just let it slide. Usually. Sometimes. Well. The thing about spite is that it mixes with anger and makes a kind of pissy kind of soup. Punz knew that soup well. He had it for dinner every night alongside caviar and imported English iced tea. 

Three, hunger. Punz liked food. Enough said. 

But fear? Nah. That wasn’t his style. What did he have to be afraid of? Dying? He couldn’t die. He was badass. Kickass, even, all of the -asses. Death feared him. 

Death rewarded him, too. One lazy afternoon Punz took his new knife out to the forest to test something out and came home to a pile of gold on the table and five rabbit pelts and ten wolf skins slung over his shoulders. Death wasn’t a scary thing. Death was just a capitalist. He could fuck with that. 

But there was a difference between killing animals and killing humans. Punz preferred his kills to be clean and efficient. Nothing’s worse than getting blood on your white hoodie, he figured, and maybe he should have just changed his aesthetic. Maybe he should have done that. But what he did instead was do things meticulously, so meticulously, and it worked. 

And it worked. 

And it worked until there was a battle for a country he had no part in and that he didn’t care about. A dethronement, and then a war, all in the same day. He would have stayed home and ignored the whole affair in favor of catching up on Grey’s Anatomy if he wasn’t getting paid enough money to drown a cat with. (And, being friends with Sapnap, he knew plenty about drowning cats.)

It was in the heat of battle when Punz stabbed his first child. Pogtopia wasn’t the most populous nation in the world (if you can call it a nation to begin with), but it had enough supporters to make Punz’s attempts at getting at the commanders really fucking hard. He had already lost his sword in the initial rush, and that was fifteen minutes ago. Fifteen minutes and a couple of chunks ago. His ax was stuck in the chest of a woman on the ground, and his shovel really wasn’t up for battle. 

So when the kid snuck up on him, Punz grabbed the only weapon he had on him and plunged it into their chest blindly, eyes defocusing as they stared up at him in shock. His face was warm from exertion and blood. Sticky. His hands were sticky. 

A small tickle in the back of his mind told Punz that he got blood on his hoodie. A much larger tickle told him that there was a good chance that he had just become a gold ingot richer. A gold ingot could pay for so many chocolate bars. 

It wasn’t too hard a decision to make. His hoodie was already ruined, anyway. He could just buy a new one after the war. 

Yanking the dagger out of the kid’s cold body, Punz slipped it into its sheath just long enough to wrench his ax free of the corpse holding it. 

By the end of the war, Punz was a half stack of raw gold blocks richer. 

This, he decided, looking down at the chest of gold in front of him. This would be enough to last until the next war. 

-

Three weeks later, the dagger slipped between a crack in Sapnap’s armor. It was almost worth enough for an ice cream cone. 

-

One, greed. 

Punz was not a greedy man. He was just a capitalist. Big difference. Greed requires a certain amount of other, some extra oomph to give it meaning as anything other than just plain old want. It isn’t greedy to want a new pair of boots. It isn’t greedy to want a Robux gift card. It isn’t greedy to just want. 

There is a difference between wanting something and craving it. Punz never craved the rewards he got for killing. He wanted them. Big difference. He could put the dagger away and never touch it again. He simply chose not to. He liked getting money. Money is cool as hell. So are the things you can get with money. Like a new PlayStation. Or a hamburger at the McPuffy’s when you don’t feel like baking a fresh loaf of bread. 

-

Punz liked explosions. They were loud and, well, explosive, and they reminded him of happier times when all he had to worry about was childrens’ attempts at war and Sapnap being a fucking idiot. Punz had always been one for chaos, and nothing, nothing was more chaotic than an explosion. 

But as the butchers scattered before him like headless chickens, there wasn’t the usual rush of adrenaline. Punz was almost bored as he chased the L’Manbergians around. He was bored when he let them chase him around. 

The knife on Punz’s belt itched. 

He wasn’t explicitly told not to kill anyone, but he wasn’t told to do anything other than distract. But he was bored, and that was making him sloppy. He let himself get hit in the shoulder with an arrow and grit his teeth into a grin at the sudden burst of energy he got in response, blade singing in its sheath. 

Fundy had a crack in his armor. The butchers’ armor was ragged and worn, obviously leftover from the war, and Fundy had a crack in his armor. 

It wasn’t until Punz felt the weight in his pockets that he realized that the knife had made contact. 

Fundy let out a cry, and Punz felt the knife shaking in his grasp, but he wasn’t moving. Punz wasn’t moving. 

The call to retreat, Dream’s voice in Punz’s ear telling him to get the fuck out of there. 

Three dollars. Chump change. More next time, Punz hoped. 

-

Two, spite. 

Once upon a time, Punz used to feel spiteful. Angry, too. Sad. Betrayed. But it’s kinda hard to feel betrayed when you don’t have anyone to betray you. And maybe that was Punz’s own fault, but, really, who could fault him? The server was an active warzone six out of seven days of the week. How the hell are you supposed to keep a friendship going with someone that might stab you in the back at an Olive Garden? 

Punz was no diplomat, and he never pretended to be. What he was was a mercenary, and a damn good one. No loyalties when someone can buy yours for a stack of gold pieces and a Chili’s gift card. 

It might have occurred to Punz once that maybe he would be the guy to stab you at an Olive Garden. 

Well. So be it. You probably deserved it, anyway.

-

Punz had a child. He refused to think of the dead chicken at his feet as his child, but it was his child. Its head was snapped clear off its tiny body, but Punz remembered seeing it blinking up at him in its first moments of life. 

The puddle the dead chick was in had long dried by the time Punz got around to visiting it. 

There’s something to be said about the death of a child. Your child. Punz had chicken for dinner two days ago, and he killed the chickens himself and got a pocketful of gold for his troubles. But this thing? This miserable little wretch of a dead chicken? 

Punz scoffed and lightly nudged its body with the toe of his boot. His boot came away stained. 

He wrinkled his nose. Fucking gross. 

The spirit that had so graciously come to hang out and talk about dicks for an hour was long gone, but Punz still felt the familiar urge to dig his knife into something and not let go. If he stabbed something longer, would that give him more money in reward? 

The knife on his belt twitched like it was shrugging. Punz pretended not to notice. Not his problem. Sentient capitalistic daggers were the least of his problems. He had wars to fight in, battles to decide, chickens to avenge. 

Vengeance has gotten a bit complicated recently. You can’t just blow someone’s house up and call it a day. No, someone always has to get pissy about it, and that was fine by Punz’s standards. He was a mercenary; his trade depended on people getting pissy. No pissy people meant no paycheck, and a life without a paycheck would be a sad one, indeed. 

There was the rush of battle, the adrenaline-charged thrill of removing a motherfucker’s head from their body and immediately getting a broken rib for the trouble. Punz missed his broken ribs. There wasn’t enough going on to warrant a broken bone. What, the L’Manbergians were causing trouble? That was old news by that point. 

War was profitable, but war was also getting just a tad bit boring. 

A chicken war would at least be interesting. 

“Cock war,” Punz absently said. His voice echoed around the wilderness sounding entirely unfamiliar and too much like someone from a YouTube anti-depressant medication commercial. 

He smiled at his own joke anyway and looked back down at his dead child. The little thing wasn’t quite important enough to him to warrant revenge or anything, but it gave him an excuse to go and stab someone on his terms. Maybe that’d make the whole thing feel a bit more worth it. 

-

Three, hunger. 

Punz had a fridge full of leftovers. Chinese, mostly, some Chipotle. Homemade stuff. There was a veggie platter he put together for a failed Christmas dinner he was supposed to have with some friends. 

That went well. 

He liked food. He loved food, actually. Didn’t mean his stomach wasn’t empty all the time, or that he wouldn’t constantly be feeling like he needed… more. More. His fridge was full, but his pockets were empty. He could look out the window and see Tubbo and Ranboo walking down the path with their pickaxes hitched up on their shoulders. A couple of minutes’ walk away, Bad and Skeppy had their mansion. Punz had a tower, and he had a knife, and he had Dream. 

And he had Dream. 

Maybe hunger isn’t exclusively for food. Maybe it’s for something else. Like companionship. Or a Planet Fitness membership. 

-

Punz killed a dog. Two gold coins added to the pile. 

Across the growing crater that used to be New L’Manberg, the world was ending, and that was just fine. None of Punz’s business. To steal a phrase, it was never meant to be. (Or something like that, anyway.)

It was weird being on this side of the war. Punz couldn’t see Dream in all the chaos, but he had his orders not to look. Can’t act too suspicious… 

And so Punz stabbed another dog and ignored the way he wanted to cry over it. They were just stupid dogs. No big deal. 

Somewhere, Tommy was screaming. In all the racket, it was hard to pick it out from every other scream of pain, fear, agony, desperation –Technoblade’s triumphant rambling and Philza’s relative quiet. Dream above watching silently (somehow, Punz knew that he would be looking right at wherever Tommy was.)

But that didn’t concern him, so he stabbed another dog. Up to six coins now, hell yeah. He can get a Happy Meal with this kind of money. Funds were drying up with all the battle prep, but he’d be able to treat himself after the apocalypse, at least. 

Idly, Punz wondered if there would be a McPuffy’s left after this. He decided he didn’t care. 

It was a little hard to care about anything when all there was was the splash of blood against his face and the panicked screeching of a bunch of idiots running around like headless chickens. 

On his way to try and take down one of the withers (how much money could a wither get him?), Punz tripped over a root and nearly face planted into one of the dogs that Sapnap had butchered on his way to his dumbass fiance. 

It was red. The root, that is. Small, barely poking above ground. Punz stared at it for just a moment longer than he should have before snapping out of it with the sound of a wither skull being shot at his head. 

He narrowly managed to dodge out of the way, landing in an awkward half-roll that sent his dagger skidding across the ground out of reach. 

NO

Panicked, Punz lunged for it, scrambling around in the dirt and the bloodied mud to get it back before it got lost or (god forbid) someone took it from him. 

He picked the knife up with both hands, lungs heaving, and, when he looked at it, his reflection in the blade was thin and sunken like a skeleton’s. 

His hoodie was ruined. That was fine. He could just buy a new one. 

-

Four, fear. 

Punz was not afraid of anything. He wasn’t sure if he could be afraid anymore. He couldn’t be much of anything anymore. He could be cold; his blankets had begun wearing thin, and he needed new ones before the winter got too bad. He could be wet; his umbrella broke months ago and he never bothered replacing it, not seeing a point to when he had a hood. He could be tired; he never got enough sleep, not anymore, and even his sleep was restless thanks to the itch under his skin. 

He slept with his knife under his pillow. The rust had long worn off, and he didn’t remember when he started being able to see himself in its reflection or when the mirror over his bathroom sink shattered, but he just blamed the mirror on yet another home intrusion and called it a day. 

Use Me :), the note had read, and Punz had. There was a box under his bed full of gold coins, enough to make a pirate horny or a banker cry. 

And Get Your Just Rewards, indeed.

Punz sure felt rewarded. The world was silent, and he could finally sleep.

-

What came first, the chicken or the egg? 

Punz was a chicken once. He birthed a child, even, not that he chose to think about that too often, just when he was drinking and trying to think of fun weekend vengeance plans to fill his calendar with now that his friends were all leaving to join some weird breakfast cult. 

Boredom, that’s what Punz could feel. 

Boredom. 

No wars. It was quiet. Any adrenaline was long gone. Maybe he was addicted, maybe he was going through withdrawals, but when a gigantic egg said that it could provide for him, well. It was more convincing than it would have been a couple of months ago. 

Well? It asked. 

“Well what?” he responded. 

It looked down upon him judgmentally. A heavy feeling settled on Punz’s shoulders, one he didn’t like. It felt like hands curling, claws digging in. Into his skin, into his flesh, into his soul. (He didn’t even realize he still had one of those. He thought he lost it months ago when he first picked up that knife and his eyes were opened to the world for the very first time.)

Punz was alone. Bad had escorted him down and had left with only a smile and a wink and a pat on the shoulder. It wasn’t really anything out of the ordinary for Bad, honestly, but something about it left Punz on edge. 

And then the Egg started talking. 

What are you waiting for? the Egg asked. Its smile curled around Punz’s brain and squeezed. 

He didn’t realize he was raising his dagger until he saw its blade glinting in the dim red light. 

The Egg liked him, It had said. It heard all about him already from previous visitors. It had seen him Itself, because It sees everything. Knows everything. Is everything. 

Punz wanted chaos, It had determined. 

No, Punz wanted to argue. He wanted the money that just so happened to come from chaos. He wanted a cure to his boredom. 

(He wanted to feel again, he didn’t say. That would be embarrassing.) 

All the Egg needed was a show of loyalty. It couldn’t just accept any old merc off the street. It had to know he was being serious, and there was only one way of doing that.

The dagger shook with anticipation, level with his chest, aimed right towards where he distantly remembered his heart being back when he still had one. Punz stared his own reflection right in the eyes. His reflection was smiling; he was not. 

The knife plunged in, and Punz bled gold.