#shadow of aku

[algandarsplaguepositive]

After a two-week long shovelware break, we're dipping our toes back into the shovelware pile. This time it will be Samurai Jack: The Shadow of Aku starting tomorrow night (9 June) at 6 PM CT.

twitch.tv/algandarsplaguepositive

Last Shovelware Sunday stream:

[sapphanimates]

can you believe 3/4 of this was done at school yesterday

[nyxi-pixie]

atsushi straight up losing akus coat is very funny but also hnnbnbnghg coat theory.........

something something atsushi being responsible for aku being clothed in something that isnt the scraps dazai left him

[qrez]

asagiri please tell me aya being entrusted in akutagawa's care will give us flashbacks on, or even just crumbs of, the akutagawa siblings

[blackkat15]

Voice kink tier list 😔

[rotisseries]

SHADOWS

gonna be honest with you king I'm still not seeing it and the new pics aren't helping any

[waeirfaahl]

"Samurai Jack: Shadow of Aku" game issue

Alright, previously I analyzed Battle Through Time game and its ending, covering everything what's wrong in this game. Now let's jump into another game, very old game — Shadow Of Aku.

Although, Shadow of Aku is not canon, I still noticed some interesting moments. But, unfortunately, the story in this game suffers as well. What I liked — the visual, aesthetics, the music and sounds, locations, enemies are incredibly authentic to the classic seasons. We have the classic zombies, the classic beetle-robots and Aku's demonic henchmen we saw in 1 episode of 1 season and 8 episode of 4 season. What's cool is that we also meet new enemies, new robot models, we travel in new locations, see new inhabitants, what is a good detail. Also I can say that the gameplay in SoA is better than in BtT, it is more various, where you can run, fight, jump, climb, lots areas for platforming, puzzles etc. That is what I actually wanted from BtT, which had small levels only for fights mostly (although, I liked the graveyard level and the temple level). Another good moment — Aku actually takes forms of various animals during fight, uses fire breathing etc. If BtT had this element (and added all abilities Aku used in the classic seasons), then I'd like the fight in the last level a little bit more. Because I have no idea, why 5 season and BtT ignored the main ability of the character.

He also turned into an army just like in "Birth of Evil", but I wasn't able to make a good shot. And the main interesting aspect — this game is the only SJ thing, which in the first and the last time bings up the dilemma of paradoxes and time traveling. Neither the show nor the comics cover this story issue (well, the comics covered, but not directly and blatantly). It was surprising for me to see and to hear in SoA the "Wait, really? Do you want to rewrite history and erase my life and achievements at the same time?" theme. Too bad, this important and serious topic does not go to and to the end, plugging the archaeologist with Jack's heavy gaze and forcing to agree with his line "I can undo centuries of tyranny and bring peace to the universe!". And it is really weird, because he could insist "Then you will die as well. And everything good you did for people of this world, will be erased forever. Entire universe".

I mean, he is a scientist, so he can't see changing the past like "All will be the same, just a bit better", no, it doesn't work this way. Another moment already with Jack's newly emerged evil doppelganger. As he says, "I am your dark and evil self. You locked me inside of you, but Aku gave me life again!" or whatever. Actually, this moment gave me an idea…

Just imagine the creating an army of your doppelgangers/replicas with black magic from your negative emotions, i.e. only you can destroy them, they are subordinate to you, and they are fueled by your negative emotions and will die only after your death or overcoming your negative emotions. I.e. You can hide yourself somewhere that no one will find, and the replicas will do all the work to capture or destroy those you point your finger at. Well, of course, technically, there can be super-beings that are particularly powerful to defeat most likely, but against ordinary mortals, even those who possess magic, such an enemy will be the most dangerous. Aku, take a note. But now we come to the moments, which I can describe as dumb, meaningless or just strange. It doesn't have madness of 5 season or BtT, but still it has some own crazyness. Well, the beginning is pretty promising — just like in the show, you have to find the time portal and also to help various inhabitants, who can hint, where to find the portal or somebody who knows, where the portal is. Simple, but it works and can be presented in interesting and dynamic way. But many moments rise lots of questions. For example, why Aku's robots and demons transported the time portal to Aku's castle instead of destroying this in the beginning? It makes no sense. Aku could order to them to throw the portal into lava, or he could teleport himself to them and destroy the portal immediately. The premise makes zero sense.

Also, when Jack started to fall into the abyss in Aku's castle, Aku for some reason didn't shoot at him with the laser or fire.

Other tiny details are in the segments with inhabitants, who needs help. For example, the forest people, Aku's robots burn their forest... Ah? Why? What's a point? Why on Earth he'd try to destroy the wild nature? He wants to build factories, stations or a new technological city in this place or what? No explanations, just a reason for Jack to show heroism. The same thing with lyzard people — there's the same logic hole I pointed out here — these lizards tell Jack that they were enslaved by Aku, who wants to dig up all the jewels from their lands, and one captive shows to the robots where to dig — uh, what the f*ck? These incredibly advanced robots should have a built-in finder for such things and something like X-ray, i.e. you don't need to show them anything, they'll find it themselves, using magic in theory also!

Also, we see Exter, the creator of Ultra-Robots — why Aku didn't kill him, but ordered to exhaust teens with videogames? For what? What's a point? No answers, it makes zero sense, just an hommage to the classic seasons.

Among really funny moments I can describe the one with the robots, using electricity. There are new models of robot killers, and at one point Jack encounters them in sewage system or whatever, i.e. water location — Jack was in the water, and if they used electricity, Jack would be fried to a crisp. But they don't do this for some reason.

So, yes, that's what I can say about this very old and dated game.

[okage-kirana]

SH Non-Essential Wonders #11

I don't remember clearly whether the manga gives information about this or not, but I wonder if Morphs are actually common magical creatures in the universe of SH? Or are they perhaps only native to the Soot Island?

I do think they mentioned 'Morphs are exotic / rare magical pets' or something along the lines in the flashback arc, but I never really think much about *where* exactly did they came from.

Based on that part, it seems that there is indeed only one source- The Morph's Forest. But there was no further information whether that is their (one and only) true habitat or not.

Also, since the Shadows never leave the Soot Island (as far as we know), they don't know much about other stuff outside, right? What if there are Morphs outside of the Soot Island? Is it possible for shadowfication and unification to happen as well?

I mean, look, they don't even conduct proper research on Morphs- They brush it off as something they must not do even though it could benefit them to a greater degree for Shadow House succession.

It's kinda funny that they think doing research is immoral and undignified, yet brainwashing an entire island, enslaving them, taking over and using their children lifeless corpses, and making their oh-so-divine Shadows pitting against each other for survival then disposing them when deemed useless is all considered alright.

[g4zdtechtv]

X-Play Classic - Samurai Jack: The Shadow of Aku Review

Gotta get back. Back to the past.

[barnablog]

He sillay :}

Can i be honest with ya'll?

(please don't attack me)

İ'm serious

İ really, REALLY, don't know what you guys see in her(don't ask why i have so many pics of them)

Barnaby simps is this yo man?/j

[sunderedscript]

@lunargifted ღ’ || akutagawa to ; whomever you choose !

-Atsushi-

Romantic attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme Sexual attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme Aesthetic attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme Sensual attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme

"I don't know this tiger too well-" but he answered. "He seems more timid the one I know- Negative points for the hair-"

-Ranpo-

Romantic attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme Sexual attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme Aesthetic attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme Sensual attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme

"...Ranpo-senpai seems the same as always..." Would Ranpo like a hammock made for a nap?

[thewickedjazzy]

Blood, Sweat & Tears [Sex Pollen] for Kinktober.

♡「knight! akutagawa x afab! reader.」

Synopsis: you drag your loyal knight to a secluded antique shop, unaware that a cursed relic would force him to quench his insatiable desire for you, leaving him one choice only...fuck or watch you both die.

Warnings and w/c: 3.1k. ņsfw, smųt with plot, dead dove ー read at your own risk, dub-con, blood, cum, manipulation, age gap (aku is in his 30s YUM), sex pollen (obv.) slight implied knife play (rashomon)...etc.

“ryuu-kun, c'mon! why are you so stiff? just relax!” you giggle softly, tugging on the poor man's black shoulder cape as you practically drag him toward the entrance of the haunted antique shop.

truth be told, akutagawa wasn’t hesitant —at least, not for the reasons you assumed. the idea of going against the king’s orders wasn’t something he took lightly. defying authority was not a habit for a devoted knight like him, and he had never imagined himself in a situation like this. but for you?

oh — for you, he would go against any order. he would take any risk just to see your eyes light up, to hear that carefree laugh of yours that always seemed to make the heavy burdens on his heart feel lighter. lord! how he loves to just see your cheeks flush, the delicate pink hue resembling the sakura in full bloom ー his new favorite colour.

akutagawa had been by your side for years, from your childhood through your teenage years, and now, as you stepped into adulthood, he couldn't help but notice how things had changed. he had seen your growth with his own eyes, and it disturbed him more than he'd ever admit. you were becoming someone who could get into trouble with ease, and while he was too loyal to question you, the protective instinct in him was stronger than ever.

“i’m relaxed, with all due respect, don't you think you're being a bit reckless?” despite his apparent annoyance, his eyes soften as they find yours. there was something captivating about the way your eyes glimmer under the poor light of the shop, like stars in a forgotten sky.

you step further into the abandoned shop, soft giggles echo as akutagawa’s reluctant footsteps follow close behind. the place feels like it hasn’t seen sunlight in ages, dust dances in the beams filtering through the cracked windows, illuminating shelves filled with eerie artifacts and relics of a forgotten age. for you? this was simply an adventure — a moment of thrill in an otherwise carefully controlled life.

“look, ryuu-kun! isn’t it fascinating?” you point toward an ornate mirror standing tall at the back of the shop. its frame is twisted, covered in intricate carvings that seem almost to shift as you stare at them. “wooah! i’ve never seen anything like it.”

the knight watches you approach the mirror, every instinct tells him this place isn’t safe, that there’s a dark enchantment here that could harm you. but your enthusiasm and willingness to explore, pulls him in against his better judgment.

“your highness...” he says softly despite the danger evident in his voice, “don’t touch it. we don’t know what kind of curse or magic might lie within that thing.”

but of course you’re already inches away, mesmerized by your own reflection in the mirror’s surface as if it almost seems to beckon you, whispering captivating, incoherent lullabies that you can’t quite decipher. your fingers reach out, grazing the glass searching for the source of the sound. but the moment you make contact, an odd chill courses through you, and the reflection changes, warping, revealing shadows of something darker within.

and suddenly, you’re not looking at yourself anymore. instead, you see visions flickering across the mirror — scenes of solitude, a vast, empty world where you stand utterly alone. the cheerful warmth in your chest vanishes, replaced by a cold sense of despair. you try your best to step back, but your gaze remains locked onto the mirror as if bound by an invisible force.

akutagawa’s eyes widen as he watches you freeze, your expression shifting from delight to horror. without a second thought, he lunges forward, pulling you away, but not before his eyes accidentally catch his own reflection. and again, the mirror’s black magic grips him, and for a fleeting moment, he sees something horrifying — the blood stained memories of his past in the port mafia, of every life he’s taken, every failure, every ounce of suffering he encountered.

“r-ryuu-kun…” you try to speak but you're disoriented...pale, leaning against him as you struggle to steady your breathing.

he shakes himself free, grip tightening slightly on your arm. “we need to leave. NOW.”

you nod, feeling a strange, lingering heaviness creeping inside your chest. arguing feels pointless, afterall he’s the reason you’re still alive and kicking up till now. you murmur a soft “i’m sorry,” but he doesn’t respond. without a glance, he strides toward the door pulling you along with him.

and just as he reaches the threshold, a sweet, floral yet infused with a dangerously intoxicating heady scent looms around you both, almost as if the scent itself seeps into your senses, leaving your body heating up and your thoughts hazy.

“ryuu?… i don’t feel well-… what do we—what's happening to me?” your voice is barely audible, the heat sensation spreading through you rapidly, making your cheeks flush more and your breaths come quicker, each inhale carrying more of that cloying scent, filling your senses until all you can think about is the knight by your side.

“it's the curse,” he mutters, “i-it won't break unless we give... blood, and... uh- more.”

you look up at him and it’s clear he’s struggling just as much, flushed and panting heavily. you instinctively cling to him, seeking closure against your own will, and he finds himself leaning closer, almost reflexively. despite the losing battle within him to resist, he begins to tell himself that perhaps fulfilling this desire is the only way to break free of the mirror’s spell? perhaps it's the only way to truly protect you? there’s no time to consider if it’s twisted or not, he's silently beating himself up for letting you get hurt in the first place.

he tries his best to keep his thoughts under control, but it's nearly impossible with the enchanted pollen's effect taking over his mind and turning him into a puppet of it's own making and the line between his sense of duty to protect you and his desire to make the aching pain in his pants go away becomes harder to see.

“your majesty..” he murmurs almost apologetically as he lowers his face close to yours, a deep blush spreads across your cheeks as you finally understand — this isn't just about you and him anymore. this is about survival, about breaking the curse that binds you. blood and cum must mix in order for the magic to release its grip. is it grotesque? yes, but in this moment, it’s the only way out.

your eyes are heavily half-lidded, lips parted perfectly, a few beads of sweat trace your cupid’s bow as you clench onto him with wobbly legs, your thoughts absolutely shameless, cunt instinctively clenching around nothing, are you actually craving him? the knight who has been by your side for so many years — the one who’s spent countless hours guarding and protecting you — is now stirring feelings you’d only ever brushed aside. you would be lying if you said that you never thought of him this way, there was something about the familiar warmth he carried that made you want to stay wrapped in his arms forever.

“ryuu-kun.. i-it hurts so bad— please make it stop.” you cry, though you're not sure whether you're asking for release from the curse or for something else entirely. the look you're giving him is so pathetic that he can't help but dart out his tongue to wet his lips, before smashing his lips on yours feverishly, you both grunt in relief, you're not sure what's happening but it's seems to work. he slips his agile tongue between your parted lips, spit mingles with lewd mewls as he pins you against the wall, hands fumbling with his garments, taking his pants off, unbuttoning his black tonic, almost everything as to free himself from the suffocating layers of fabric, before fully pressing his bare upper body against yours.

“your highness... i'm sorry,” the words are soft, but the look in his eyes is anything but. there’s a lurking emotion there that he rarely reveals— less guilt, and more... eagerness? surely he knows the stakes of this spell too well. he understands the strength and danger of it, how it could kill you both in less than an hour if you don’t break it. yet, akutagawa’s no saint. he's a deviant, laced with sin and shameless thirst, an absolute reprobate. even as he’s forced into this for your survival. there’s an obscene side to him he can’t hide, a filthy hunger in how his gaze trails over your body, wondering how it’ll feel when you’re wrapped tight around him, how you’ll respond to him thrusting into you. will you bite back a scream? will you moan his name, too breathless, too fucked out to form a word?

either ways, there's no point for him to guess as he'll be witnessing it shortly. strong and boney hands tremble as they run wild against your body till they reach your pants pulling them down, he's too engrossed in your details as a muffled groan escapes his pretty lips before he slides down your nectar-soaked panties, taking both your legs wrapping them around his narrow waist, holding you close as if he can’t bear the thought of you slipping away from him. with a shaky sigh as he pops the buttons of your shirt, catching the beautiful euphoric sight of your breasts spilling over your bra.

“there's no time, please trust me on this,” just a few words to trick himself that what he's doing is only for your survival. his disheveled black and white locks brush your cheek as he presses quick, breathless kisses to your temple.

you manage to nod, feeling his hard cock press against your puffy folds from beneath, and your hips subconsciously buck yearning for any friction to ease the swell of pain building rapidly in your core.

however, it's short-lived, as in mere seconds, he's plunging into you with a deep, throaty groan, his entire body trembling as if he's been transported to another dimension. a wave of tingling ecstasy floods through him, muscles tightening as his fingers dig into your bare shoulders, holding you close.

“f-fuhckmmh- your highness-” he whimpers against your ear, the heat radiating from his body is absolutely insane, “forgiv-e me—,”another thrust, “i am bound to protect you— not to desecrate you like this.”

“i-it's fine,” you murmur, soft fingers gripping his face to force him to look at you. “i trust you ryuu-kun.”

what other options do you have? none.

he just stares at you for a few seconds before thrusting again. his hips start moving leisurely at first, stretching you deliciously as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his mesmerising scent, feeling every agonising movement of his flawless cock picking up its pace by each passing second and the instant he bottoms out, he practically 'pounds' into you deeper, harder, each stroke finding a new angle that leaves you gasping for air.

his own pleasure is muffling his ears. he still cannot believe it. he's been waiting for this moment his entire life, to finally fuck his monarch that's been taking over his thoughts each passing night, getting him atrociously horny.

“oh god, you feel ngh~ heavenly—,” it's a whisper more to himself, knobby hands gripping the swell of your ass as he rams into you manically, “blood...we- fuck! have to mix blood.”

before you can make sense of it, he conjures a faint trace of rashomon from his tonic, its shadowy tendrils coiling around his sleeve, sharp enough to slice yet gentle in his intent. he presses the edge to your palm, watching a bead of crimson pool against your skin.

the sharp sting pulls a gasp from your lips, your dazed mind barely registering the act before akutagawa does the same to himself. dark silver eyes smoulder with lust as he guides both your bleeding palms to his cock, smearing the mingled blood over it, the warm slickness adding to the sinful mess already coating him.

“ryuu-” you breathe, with a trembling voice, whether from pain or arousal, you’re not sure.

his eyes meet yours before you feel the soft clouds of his lips crash onto yours, it's all desperate and messy, teeth nipping at your lower lip hard enough to draw blood. the metallic tang spreads across your tongue, blending with the taste of him as he drinks in your broken moans, tongue delves deeper into your mouth, spit melding together as he aligns himself with your slit once more. his blood-slickened cock slides back into you, each thrust feels heavier, deeper, as if the leverage of the curse itself presses against you both, urging you to fulfill its dark demands.

“just a litt-le more,” he rasps, teeth scraping along the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a delicate trail of violet bruises and ruptured vessels.

a borderline salacious symphony of sounds echoes, wet and obscene, sopping and slick, each thrust accompanied by a squeaky rhythm as his balls slap against your pillowy ass cheeks. your eyes roll back in a bliss, glossy lips parting lusciously in a wanton moan, every vein and ridge of him dragging you closer to euphoric oblivion.

“ryuu... i can’t...” you sob, nails digging into his back as the pressure in your core mounts, legs trembling around his waist. “i... i can’t take it anymore...”

“stay with me, your majesty haah,” he murmurs breathlessly, lips brushing against your ear as he drives into you deeper. “we need... to break it. just a little longer... please...”

his hands clutch at your hips, pulling you into each thrust until all that’s left is the white-hot pressure of the spell, of the lust, threatening to swallow you both. his cock throbs inside you, and it’s clear— he can’t hold back any longer.

“please, ryuu... i’m—” you bite your lip, unable to finish as the knot in your belly tightens, ready to burst.

akutagawa's focus narrows, all he can think about is you, how your breasts bounce with each thrust, body arching beneath his, exposing the delicate curve of your neck— everything about you is perfect in this moment, and he can't tear his eyes away. the sight of your face contorted in pleasure, the pout tugging on your lips, the way your legs tremble, how your hips move to meet his, how your nails drag across his back starved for his naked skin. is this his body on yours? is he finally feeling you? kissing you? fucking you?

'god, look at you,' he can barely think, his thoughts fragmented, lost in the instinctual need to bury himself deeper, to take more, to feel more. the way you tighten around him, the slick, wet warmth of your cunt — he’s fucking drowning in it.

'fucking beautiful.'

a few thrusts of akutagawa’s hips and his name tears from your lips in a breathless, desperate cry, the sound of your orgasm crashing over you like a truck, slamming into him with brutal force. your walls flutter and clench around his cock, milking him, dragging him deeper into the molten heat of your release.

his vision blurs, heart thundering in his chest as his hearing dulls to nothing but the wet, obscene noises of your bodies joined together. for the first time in his life, he is obliterated by the sheer, soul-stealing intensity of his orgasm, his cock still twitching violently as he spills deep inside you, his seed mingles with the blood smeared between you, the combined essence finally breaking the curse’s seal.

“i-is it over?”

akutagawa doesn’t answer immediately, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as he struggles to gather himself. his meaty length that's still buried inside you twitches, body refusing to move, refusing to let go of the impossible warmth and tightness of your walls. the thought of pulling out feels unbearable, like he’d be severing himself from something sacred.

“yes,” he finally rasps, “the curse is broken.”

still, he doesn’t move, his grip on your hips tightening imperceptibly. every inch of him aches to stay like this, to savor the raw, feral perfection of you wrapped around him. but he won’t say it — not to you, not to your highness. it’s not his place to speak such desires aloud. instead, he forces himself to swallow the words, forcing his breathing to even out as he pulls out of you despite the burning need still coiling in his gut.

without a word, he moves to gather your clothes, fingers brushing over your skin tenderly in a way that feels foreign coming from him, as if he’s afraid that, if he rushes, it’ll break something.

“rest, your highness. please, don’t move,” he ties the fabric hovering near your ear as his soft upper lip brushes your sensitive skin with a low murmur. “you’re safe now.”

“safe...” you repeat the word, almost testing it on your tongue.

“at least for now, but the curse... it doesn’t work like that. it’s not just broken once. it could flare up again in a few days... and when it does,” he pauses, allowing his words to settle in for a few seconds. “we’ll have to repeat the ritual.”

he’s a liar. a filthy, self-loathing liar.

the curse is broken. it has been broken since that moment. nothing will flare up again. it’s absolutely impossible. the ritual is complete. there is no reason for him to say this, no reason at all. but still, he can’t help himself. he lies, not to protect you—but to keep you. to keep you near him, just a little longer.

“we’ll have our next time soon,” he mutters to himself, he hates himself for it. every fiber of his being recoils at the thought of deceiving you like this, manipulating you with his twisted words, but the words are already sealed in his mind. mostly like a promise — one he will keep. and this time, he won’t stop.

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetbutterflix @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguru @writingandmusing @corruptedwrathkitsune @thedamselzelda @fyodorssimp1 @vikkinakahara @laylabuurr @perlaslibrary @remlionheart @osamucide @ranpazz @naviiq

[moomuzan]

𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖒𝖞

ᴛᴡ

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ reader is self-harming

read with caution, stay safe

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ dazai & aku

Enshrouded in a silence so profound that it bordered on oppressive, an almost tangible thing settled in the corners of the room, lingering in the stale air. Dazai had rushed to your apartment earlier than usual, driven not by obligation but by an inexplicable unease that had rooted itself in the recesses of his mind, an ominous premonition that resisted reason. It wasn’t unusual for him to be haunted by intangible dread—he carried the weight of too many ghosts, after all—but tonight, it was different. It clung to him, persistent and unrelenting, as though the universe itself had conspired to nudge him back to you.

Being a fragile dance of proximity and distance, of holding on too tightly while pretending to let go, the relationship between you and Dazai had always been precariously balanced on the edge of something you couldn’t name. It was as though the two of you had been drawn together by an unspoken recognition, an understanding that neither dared to articulate. You saw his darkness, the shadowed corners of his heart that he kept hidden beneath that infuriating smile, and he saw yours, raw and unfiltered, etched into the way you moved through the world with barely concealed fragility.

But he never let you in. Not really.

As he called out your name, the edge of his voice was faintly frayed, betraying the gnawing anxiety beneath the practiced nonchalance. He waited for your voice, your sigh of exasperation or some sign of life that would confirm the sanctity of your presence. But no sound came to meet him, save for the distant hum of the bathroom fan.

It was such a small, ordinary sound—one he had heard a thousand times before—but tonight, it carried with it an ominous undertone, an unspoken forewarning. His feet moved before his mind caught up, carrying him across the floor with briskness. The bathroom door was ajar, a sliver of light spilling into the dim hallway.

He hesitated for the briefest of moments, a beat of suspended time where some instinct whispered that what lay beyond that door could never be unseen, could never be undone. But he pushed it open, and in that instant, his world fractured.

The sight of you was a visceral blow, a picture of despair rendered in stark, unrelenting clarity. You were seated on the cold, unforgiving tiles, your back slumped against the porcelain curve of the bathtub, your frame shivering with a fragility that spoke of collapse. Blood dripped from your arm in sluggish rivulets, staining your skin, your clothes, the floor—a macabre mosaic of anguish. In your trembling hand, the blade gleamed faintly under the harsh fluorescent light, an instrument of destruction rendered almost innocuous by its simplicity.

And for a moment, Dazai did nothing. He simply stood there, his figure frozen as if carved from stone, his mind warring between disbelief and the inexorable truth of what lay before him. His chest tightened, his breath hitching in a way that felt foreign and unfamiliar, and he found himself staring at the crimson trails on your arm, unable to look away yet wishing with every fiber of his being that he could unsee it.

“What,” he finally said, his voice low but trembling with a dangerous undercurrent, “do you think you’re doing?”

The words sliced through the air like a blade, sharp and accusing, yet they carried with them a tremor of vulnerability that he couldn’t suppress. His mask, so carefully cultivated over the years, slipped for a brief, agonizing moment, revealing the raw anguish that simmered beneath.

You flinched at the sharpness of his tone but didn’t lift your gaze. Your voice, when it came, was a shadow of itself—weak, broken, barely audible above the sound of your own labored breathing. “Leave,” you whispered, the word trembling on your lips. “Just… go, Dazai. This has nothing to do with you.”

But Dazai did not leave. He couldn’t. The door was closed now, locking the two of you in this suffocating space, and the weight of your pain bound him to you with an unbreakable tether. Without a word, he crossed the small distance between you and crouched before you, his movements measured and deliberate, as though approaching a wounded animal.

Eventually, his long fingers reached for yours, prying the blade from your hand with a gentleness that belied the storm brewing within him. He hurled it aside with a force that sent it clattering against the porcelain sink, the sound reverberating through the small room like an accusation. His gaze, dark and unrelenting, locked onto yours.

“You don’t get to do this,” he said, his voice trembling with anger, though it was not directed at you alone. It was as much a condemnation of himself as it was of you, a reflection of his own failures mirrored in your bloodied skin.

Your head snapped up at his words, your eyes blazing with defiance even as tears streaked your cheeks. “Don’t you dare lecture me,” you spat, your voice trembling but fierce. “You think you’re any different? You, who treats life like a game? Who smiles while drowning? You’re the last person who gets to tell me what I’m allowed to feel.”

The words struck him like a physical blow, cutting through the carefully constructed walls he had spent years erecting. For a moment, he said nothing, his jaw clenching as he struggled to suppress the tide of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. You were right, of course. How could he, a man so consumed by his own despair, dare to pass judgment on you for succumbing to yours?

“I see myself in you,” he said finally, his voice low but trembling with an emotion he could not name. “And it’s killing me.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the raw vulnerability in his tone catching you off guard. His usual facade of humor and detachment was gone, replaced by a fractured man laid bare before you. He took your hand in his, his touch surprisingly steady despite the tremor in his voice.

“Do you know what it’s like,” he continued, his gaze boring into yours, “to look at someone and see every mistake you’ve ever made staring back at you? To see the darkness you thought you’d buried reflected in their eyes? It terrifies me. Because I know exactly where this path leads.”

Your throat tightened, tears spilling over as his words pierced through the walls you had so carefully built around yourself. “And what am I supposed to do?” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I don’t know how to stop, Dazai. I don’t know how to fight this.”

He sighed, his shoulders sagging under the weight of your shared despair. For a long moment, the only sound in the room was your uneven breathing, punctuated by the distant hum of the fan. Then, slowly, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“You don’t have to fight it alone,” he said, his voice steady now, though his eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I won’t promise that it’ll be easy, or that I’ll always know the right thing to say. But I’m not going anywhere. Not tonight. Not ever.”

The sincerity in his voice broke something within you, and you let out a choked sob, collapsing into his arms as the weight of your pain finally became too much to bear. He held you tightly, his embrace warm and steady, as though trying to shield you from the very darkness he knew all too well.

Neither of you spoke as the minutes ticked by, the silence between you no longer oppressive but comforting in its simplicity. For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe—just maybe—you didn’t have to face this alone.

The evening air hung heavy, thick with the oppressive heat of late summer. The mission had been arduous, though hardly unusual. Yet as you and Akutagawa walked side by side down the dimly lit streets, the weight in the silence between you felt far more suffocating than the temperature.

Akutagawa had always been a man of few words, his presence cold and reserved, much like the sharp edges of Rashomon that followed him like a shadow. You’d grown used to the silences, even found a strange comfort in them. But tonight, his quiet observation felt sharper, cutting into you with every glance he cast in your direction.

You kept your eyes forward, your hands buried deep in the pockets of your coat despite the oppressive warmth. The fabric felt heavy on your skin, concealing the evidence of a battle fought not in the streets but within yourself. The faint sting of fresh wounds burned beneath your sleeves, a reminder of the weakness you despised, the war you couldn’t seem to win.

It wasn’t until you stumbled slightly—your foot catching on an uneven crack in the pavement—that his voice broke the silence.

“You’re trembling,” he said, his tone flat but his words laced with something unspoken.

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, too quickly, pulling your coat tighter around you as if the action could shield you from his piercing gaze.

But Akutagawa was nothing if not observant. His dark eyes narrowed, tracking every subtle movement—the stiffness in your stride, the way your hand twitched when you adjusted your sleeve. He said nothing at first, but the weight of his scrutiny was unbearable, a silent accusation that dug under your skin.

Finally, as the two of you approached a narrow, empty alleyway, he stopped abruptly, his voice cutting through the thick air like a blade. “What are you hiding?”

The question froze you in place.

“I’m not hiding anything,” you said, your voice steady despite the panic rising in your chest. You turned to keep walking, but his hand shot out, his grip firm as it closed around your wrist.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, his voice sharp, his grip tightening just enough to keep you from pulling away. There was no malice in his touch, but the intensity in his gaze was unrelenting. “You’re not fine. You’ve been off all day. What are you hiding under those sleeves?”

The heat of his stare felt suffocating, and for a moment, you thought about telling him—about letting the words spill out, about showing him the scars and the blood and the pain you carried in silence. But the shame was too great, the fear of his reaction too overwhelming.

“It’s nothing,” you said instead, your voice colder now, defensive. “Just drop it, Akutagawa.”

But he didn’t drop it.

“Nothing,” he repeated, his voice low and filled with a simmering frustration. “Do you take me for a fool? Do you think I can’t see what’s right in front of me?”

You flinched at the sharpness of his tone, your resolve cracking under the weight of his insistence. As his grip around your wrist tightened, a sharp, involuntary breath left your lips. The tension in the air thickened, his eyes narrowing as he pulled your arm closer, his gaze following the path of the sleeve you had desperately tried to hide. The moment his fingers brushed the fabric, his grip tightened just slightly, urging you to reveal what you had kept so carefully concealed.

And then, in a flicker of hesitation, his gaze caught the scars—thin, jagged lines etched into your skin, some newer than others, but all too familiar in their painful pattern. Akutagawa’s breath hitched, his sharp mind momentarily halted by the sight. He froze, his usually cold, calculated demeanor faltering for the briefest moment. It wasn’t anger that flashed through him first, but something darker—something unfamiliar. A strange, sharp ache curled in his chest, like a force tugging at something deep inside, something he didn’t dare acknowledge. He held your wrist with an almost unnatural tenderness, his sharp eyes tracing the marks, as if trying to make sense of a pain he couldn’t fully understand. His jaw clenched, a flicker of frustration passing through him, not at you, but at the reality of it all—the reality that you, of all people, would carry this burden alone, without him knowing.

“Why?” he demanded, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

The question hit you like a blow, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

“Because I’m weak,” you snapped, the words, almost mocking, spilling out before you could stop them. “Because I don’t know how to stop. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

His eyes widened slightly at your outburst, the anger in his expression faltering. For a moment, he seemed at a loss, the harsh words you’d expected him to hurl back at you replaced by a heavy, suffocating silence.

“You’re not weak,” he said finally, his voice low, measured. “But this… this is no way to fight.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and sharp. “And what would you know about it, Akutagawa? You talk about strength like it’s the only thing that matters, but you’ve never had to live with this—” You gestured vaguely toward your covered arm, your voice breaking. “This constant battle against yourself.”

He stiffened at your words, his gaze hardening, but there was no anger in his expression now. Instead, there was something raw, something that made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t explain.

“You think I don’t understand?” he said quietly, his voice trembling just slightly. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to hate yourself, to feel like nothing you do will ever be enough?”

The vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard, silencing the retort that had been on your lips. He let go of your wrist, his hand falling to his side as he looked away, his gaze fixed on the cracked pavement beneath your feet.

“I’ve spent my entire life fighting to prove that I’m not weak,” he continued, his tone soft but heavy with emotion. “But no matter how strong I become, it’s never enough. Not for anyone. And not for myself.”

His words hung in the air between you, their weight sinking into your chest like a stone. For the first time, you saw him not as the cold, distant figure you had grown used to, but as someone who carried the same scars you did—different in form, perhaps, but no less painful.

“I can’t let you do this to yourself,” he said after a moment, his voice steadier now. “I won’t.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” you asked, your voice trembling but no longer defiant.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his honesty disarming in its simplicity. “But I’ll figure it out. And you—” His gaze met yours, sharp and unrelenting. “You’re going to stop. Not because I’m ordering you to, but because you’re better than this.”

The conviction in his voice startled you, leaving you unsure how to respond. He stepped closer then, his movements slow, deliberate, as though afraid of breaking whatever fragile truce had settled between you.

“I’m not good at this,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “But I’m here. If you need me, I’m here.”

The sincerity in his words broke something inside you, and before you could stop yourself, you nodded, the tears you’d been holding back spilling over. He didn’t say anything as you cried, his presence steady and grounding in a way you hadn’t expected.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the silence between you wasn’t heavy with unspoken pain. It was something else—something fragile but real, a promise that you weren’t as alone as you’d thought.

a/n: yall wanted this! this is on you..! jk. for the anon that requested it and really anyone else who suffers: i love you, you are strong and don’t ever think about giving up. you can message me anytime. — i love dazai‘s part (a little)

[bsdawgz]

「 ✦ 3 AM Thoughts ✦ 」 Bungo Stray Dogs, Port Mafia: Ryūnosuke Akutagawa

A/N: hiii shannon luv @4ngel-inc <3 i told u i was writing ab aku cuz of ur hc ... i couldn't stop thinking about him (*/_＼) !

genre: gn!reader (yuhhh). MDNI! [18+ only] this is smut.

summary: akutagawa masturbates while thinking of you ;)

Oh, god. He's not ... doing this again, right? It's embarrassing, honestly. He's sitting up in his bed, shrouded in shadow, nothing but the city light revealing the faint blush that's crept its way onto his cheeks as he traces your sweet lips in his mind, as he thinks back to the day's events and lets each fleeting interaction he had this with you this morning linger just a little longer than he should.

Your fingers brushed against his today when you settled the teacup in front of him. You might not have noticed, the way he retracted his hand so quickly, but it made him tremor slightly. It was a complete accident, he knows, but it sent him into a whirl nevertheless.

You and Akutagawa have been acquainted for awhile – you're far from intimate, but you're acquainted. You know him as Gin's older brother, and he ... he's had a crush on you for the longest time, but he doubts you've ever noticed.

For some unknown reason, he's captivated by you. Perhaps it's the way you never flinch at his temper, poking fun at it instead. Maybe it's how you see him for how he truly is, in a way that almost scares him. Or maybe it's something much simpler than that – the way you do your hair or your nails. Your vibrant laugh. Your warmth and how it soothes his emptiness. Who knows.

It's innocent thoughts tonight. That's what he insists. What it might be like to hold your hand in his, for example. Your hands must be warm; he felt its radiant heat for the brief second it touched his, or maybe he had just imagined it, and it was the steam of the teacup tickling his skin. Still, he'd like to think it was you; he'd like to picture those hands of yours smoothing along his slender waist, maybe as you'd hold him close the way he wishes he could hold you...

He'd like to picture those hands of yours caressing the protrusion of his cheekbone, brushing against it skin. He thinks of what it might feel like for you to run your thumb over his lips. He thinks of you running your hands through his hair, rearranging the strands of black and silver as you rake your fingers through his scalp. Then, for some reason, he thinks about what it might be like to have your fingernails scraping down his back, and he wonders what it might be like to fall on top of you.

His thoughts drift. He should be thinking about other things, he knows. He's wasting time again, he knows – and it makes him feel furious with himself. He should think about important things, like the infiltration strategy Chūya went over in today's meeting, but he's thinking about you instead.

Now, his hand is reaching for the covers, and he's lifting it up just to look as if he doesn't already know what he's going to see there.

He's hard, and it's pathetic.

Akutagawa hisses at the way his body betrays him. Can he not control his own sexual desires? He feels so pathetic –

But if this is what it takes, he'll just have to get it done and over with.

His hand reaches for the bottom of his shirt. He tugs it just slightly above his navel, inhaling quietly as the cold air hits him. Then, he closes his eyes and delicately traces the lean muscle of his abdomen, pretending it's your finger instead of his that's faintly dancing across his skin. It's gentle, the way he touches himself. It's the way he imagines you would do it, your touch soft and forgiving.

Then, he sighs softly, and he sinks deeper into the mattress. He trails his fingers lower, and he reaches for himself. This is the worst part of it... the most shameful part, he thinks. The part he can never bring himself to resist. His fingers wrap around his length through his boxers, and he finds himself pulsing with need. He lets out a muffled sound as his face flushes with heat. Then, slowly, he feels it through the fabric, picturing it's your hand and not his that's pleasuring him.

He'd like to think he's better than this. That he's not some horndog that needs to be relieved by fucking his own hand –

– But he wants it

He craves it.

He shuffles his boxers down his legs, then pulls the blanket up over his head. It's not like anyone can actually see him, but it's too embarrassing to be exposed, even in the dark. Then, he fists himself, grasping the shaft firmly in his hand with a grunt as he strokes himself faster.

It feels too good to touch himself like this – rougher and without restraint. His lips part in a sinful moan, and he quickly shoves his other hand against his mouth, forcing himself to be quiet. Shut up, he tells himself as he pants – he'll sound so stupid if he's loud.

His thoughts are full of you. Thoughts of filling you, more like it, as he jerks his hips toward his hand. He can picture it all in detail now – how gorgeous you'd look bouncing on top of him, your plush thighs holding him down, your dainty fingers tangled in his hair as you ride him. This time, he can't hold back as he groans softly, gasping as he chases after his imagination frantically, wishing he was fucking you instead of his hand – just a little closer and he's there.

And he knows better than to cum on his own stomach. He does – really. He should know better, at least. But it'll ruin it if he stops right now –

– so, he gets on his stomach anyway, rolling his hips against the mattress, rutting desperately against the blanket.

And he feels so pathetic, knowing he's better than this.

But it's 3 AM.

You're on his mind again.

All he can do is close his eyes and pretend he's fucking you instead of his own hand.

© BSDAWGZ 2024. Do not steal or repost ANY of my works! That’s plagiarism, and it’s mean. :(( Beautiful dividers by @ v6que~!

[hungergameswho]

@akutagawa-spotted

forgot to post this but ooo wow aku the day he met dazai. can you guys tell I like akutagawa??

[pupsmailbox]

MOON︰NIGHT ID PACK

NAMES︰ aelin. aeline. aibek. aku. alcmene. alta. amal. amalthea. amaris. amaya. apollo. arche. archer. ariel. arielune. arion. artemis. aruna. atla. atlas. ay. aydan. ayla. baku. bianca. cal. cali. calli. callisto. celestia. celina. celine. chandra. charon. chroma. crescent. damaris. dark. deimos. diarene. dione. dipper. dream. dusk. elaine. elara. erion. esme. esmere. europa. ganymede. hala. halo. hara. helen. helena. helene. hyperion. hypnos. io. jaci. jericho. june. kamari. khonshu. koko. koray. layla. luan. luna. lunar. lunatalia. lunavenly. lune. luno. mere. mia. midnight. miranda. mirande. mirando. miyako. monday. moon. moony. moonyx. morpheus. mya. myia. neoma. nocturne. nox. oberon. orion. phobos. phoebe. portia. puck. raka. rhea. runa. rune. runo. salina. saline. sandra. selena. selene. selephina. somnia. somnus. thea. titan. titana. titane. titania. titanio. titano. twilight. umbriel. vesper. volana.

PRONOUNS︰ cloud/cloud. cloudy/cloudy. cosmi/cosmic. crater/crater. cre/crescent. crescent/crescent. dark/dark. day/dream/daydream. daydream/daydream. dream/dream. dusk/dusk. ecli/eclipse. evening/evening. galaxy/galaxy. lua/luna. luna/luna. luna/lunar. lunar/lunar. midnight/midnight. moon/moon. night/night. nocturnal/nocturnal. nox/nox. orb/orb. orbi/orbit. orbit/orbit. phase/phase. satellite/satellite. sha/shadow. shadow/shadow. sleep/sleep. sleepy/sleepy. star/star. umbra/umbra. 🌃. 🌌. 🌑. 🌒. 🌓. 🌔. 🌕. 🌖. 🌗. 🌘. 🌙. 🌚. 🌛. 🌜. 🌠.