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sodamors · 8 months

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bird boyfriend

urogi with gn reader

he’s very needy • lightly suggestive • just fluff (surprise)

eyes

he perches before you, his twinkling golden eyes, dilated at the sight of you. a wide smile, tongue stuck out, trilling at you eagerly.

• “hi! hi! i’m back from a hunt! went well!”

- “oh, did it? tell me everything.”

when he speaks, he speaks with his body. hand signs, wide eyes, giggles, wings flapping. he fluffs up happily as you praise him, petting his hair, sending loving words his way.

- “i love your eyes.”

• “you do?”

- “sure do, dove.”

• “heh, i love yours too!”

he shifts closer, pressing himself close, wanting you more. he gazes longingly at you, eyes shining like the sun. his lashes flutter mesmerisingly, as he blinks, flustered, from all your praises.

talons

• “but i might scratch you.”

- “it’s okay. we’ll do this slowly. put your hand in mine.”

• “…”

sharper than a knife, stronger than a diamond. but in no way he wants them to harm you. his steely talons rest cautiously in the embrace of your soft fingers.

• “heh… you like ‘em, right? do you?”

- “oh, of course i do.”

reassure him, caress him with your words. you bring your other hand to rest atop his, tracing a circle on each finger. you hear a small trill escape him, and his smile continues growing.

wings

his back muscles flex and twitch, as you massage the bases of his wings. you firm but soft palms, pressing into tender flesh, making him softly moan.

- “feels good, dove?”

• “hmm~”

you massage circles into his muscles, and he fluffs up softly. a chirp escapes his lips.

• “dun… dun stop. mkay?”

- “i won’t.”

he’s often hyper and energetic; seeing him melt into your touch is adorable. his breathing is deep and relaxed, a contented purr escaping his throat.

- “my pretty little bird.”

feathers

unlike the rest of his body, his legs are covered in thick, luscious feathers. when you put a palm on his thigh, his feathers raise, puffing up slightly.

- “sensitive?”

• “weh, kinda.”

- “that’s cute.”

• “it is? it is? i’m cute?”

- “yes. you are cute, dove.”

• “say it again… please?”

- “oh, you’re adorable, my little bird.”

you squeeze his thighs lightly, feeling up the muscle, making him trill and chirp. his wings wrap around you, beckoning you closer. so yes, you oblige. you press onto him further, all your fingers grazing and dancing in his thick fluff. he puffs up some more, wings raised, his chirps louder.

• “more…”

- “hm? what was that?”

• “i want more. gimme… gimme more.”

- “how do you mean?”

• “you know what i mean…”

#demon slayer #hantengu clones #kimetsu no yaiba #kny urogi #urogi #urogi x reader #he’s very needy i know he is #i cannot write dominant men for the life of me mb #this isn’t connected to the pet au btw. this is like. normal?#imagine yourself as a fellow demon i suppose #fic #urogi headcanons #demon slayer urogi

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sodamors · 8 months

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consequences

sekido attempts a leap to freedom.

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. this fic is bad, don’t read it if you aren’t comfortable.

hantengu clones pet au. you can read the context/background here.

this might be part of a series of works, which covers sekido’s fight for an escape. literally just bad feels all around.

not beta read.

—

nowadays, the guards didn’t even bother closing his cage. they saw him too weak and frail, busted from all his rounds in the ring, groggy from continuous wisteria shots. and they weren’t wrong. sekido could barely move, so even if the gate was wide open, all he could do was stare.

useless. he’ll remember the times he spat at his counterparts. inefficient, lazy, weak. and now he was no better than them, no matter how much he bared his fangs.

but if there was one good thing left about him, it would be that he remembers. faces, voices, scents, everything. he knows exactly which guard comes over, who was lazy and didn’t lock the gate, who was strict and prodded him if he breathed too loudly. and he remembers them all — their stupid, pouty, human faces tore a bubbling rage through him. but the familiar fury was somewhat comforting. he prided himself for his resolve. besides, it was all he has left.

a sharp, ringing bell resounding through his dark cage meant only one thing. bettors were present, and they wanted to see him fight.

it was more of wanting to see him lose; lose miserably, in particular. having been tossed little to no food for months on end, sekido could barely move, much less get his bda to activate. he’d get pummelled, face first on the ground, whimpering pathetically as his opponent’s vile claws and fangs ravage his flesh. he could never fight back, or even get a hold of himself. old wounds would split open, and new ones make their stinging mark.

but no matter how much he was beat up, eyes glazed over, breathing erratic, he would always catch a glimpse of the bettors. chuckling in their stupid highchairs, his agony their entertainment. and his rage would erupt again — and so, keeping him barely alive.

the bell dings again, and sekido watches as a guard slides his cage door open. the guard trudges in, catch-pole in hand, hooking the thick loop around sekido’s neck. it digs into his skin, scraping foully against barely-healed bruises, as sekido is dragged out of his cage.

the ring is loud and chaotic. blinding lights beam at the blood-splattered ground, as rambunctious cheers emanate from every corner. bettors and spectators in the encircle the arena, drinks in hand, multicoloured masks concealing their faces.

if sekido could, he would hunt each and every one of them down. using their voice or scent or anything — he would rip, bite, tear them apart. infuriation twisted and boiled inside of him — all they have is a stupid plant, that just so happened to be a demon repellent. what were they so proud of? he growled at the flurrying crowd.

but sekido looks down wearily, eyes on his new opponent. a vaguely familiar pink. he frowns.

upper moon three.

sekido’s confusion rises, but soon subsides. humans had indeed taken over. not even the might of upper moon three could best them.

sekido tugs against the loop round his neck, not wanting to face akaza, not like this. where had honour gone? away for good, perhaps, as the guards yanked brutally at him, forcing out a deplorable whine from his lips.

akaza also frowns. “upper four.”

“no need to call us that,” sekido says.

“us?”

fuck. “i mean. me.” sekido clears his throat, and tries to shake away a twinge in his heart. “there’s no point in the kizuki, akaza. it’s all over.”

hearing himself, he realises his voice was hoarse, and throat was parched. clearing it had been useless.

“i know,” akaza says, some form of solemnity in his tone. “weak, cowardly humans, using their plant…”

sekido nods, but eyes the judge cautiously. any moment now, the fight would begin. settling bets took only a while, not forever.

“but i must fight you,” akaza says. gone was the honour and the excitement sekido respected akaza for. “i’m starving. they won’t feed me until i beat you.”

“i know,” sekido replied. “just… beat me up, but make it quick. they’re… they put me in for entertainment. only.”

“oh.”

“yeah. i think it’s starting.” sekido bares his teeth weakly, just for show. maybe he could get food if he excited the crowd enough.

akaza did not make it quick.

the bettors egged him on, waving pieces of irresistible meat in his face. honestly, sekido couldn’t blame him. hunger brought demons to their wildest selves, and upper moon three was no exception. sekido’s left arm had been beaten to a pulp, ripped at the elbow, the rest of the arm gone. bruises and bumps painted his body like the brush strokes of a crazed artist, blotches of red, black and blue, ebbing with his heartbeat. his muscles screamed with exhaustion, an acidic burn overwhelming his senses. it was no help that he was discarded into his cage with no food in tow.

the guard hadn’t locked the gate.

sekido wanted to growl. the pathetic human knowing he’s too weak to move was an insult itself. and again, his old friend — the flames, the burning rage in his chest — swallowed him whole. a rush of adrenaline kicked his senses to a height, a burst of hate-filled power roared in his muscles one last time.

sekido rips himself off the floor, ramming his body on the bars. and they swing right open— he catches himself before a heavy fall, and darts immediately for the stands. move move move move

bettors and dealers flock the area, suddenly erupting into screams when they see him. move move move. sekido trashes the tables, baring his teeth, snarling and snapping at whoever he could claw at. he catches a pudgy man and rips his back to pieces. he grabs ahold a tall lady and rips her to shreds. he cared no more, only listening to the raging, bursting blazes, blinding him with fury.

but all good things come to an end. his neck suddenly stings, and a different fire ripples through him. his body, despite exerting all he had, felt heavy, as though weighed down by hundreds of boulders.

and as he catches a glimpse of the accursed purple dart, sticking out of his neck like a thorn, he collapses to the ground, breathing ragged and vision black.

#sekido #hantengu clones #akaza mention #akaza #DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT #dead dove do not eat #demon slayer #angst #kimetsu no yaiba #writing #whump writing #big words in this one #do you know how many times i went to the thesaurus for a synonym of ‘anger’#waaaaa #i might draw this out #i’ll tag more when i remember

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sodamors · 8 months

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good day everyone, I’ve come across the term ‘whump’ and I have never resonated more with anything else

#i find a character I like and go #‘yeah put him in the blender’#ohhhh lordy lord them hantengu clones aren’t getting away without more whump fics #whump writing #whump #fanfic

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sodamors · 8 months

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no you arent. and all four of them are subby tbh

okay am i the only person who can't see sekido as dominant but pure sub?

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sodamors · 8 months

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to be demon

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

read at your own risk. it is bad.

this fic is in the povs of Karaku and Aizetsu, being reunited after years of separation.

> recollecting them took a while. maybe I’ll write about it in the future.

> I recommend skimming through that post before you read this one, since it provides a little more context. And angst.

his muscles ache with weariness; the day before had been full of struggle. unfamiliar figures grabbing him from everywhere, a sharp pain on his neck and chest, an overwhelming sensation of lethargy. karaku vaguely recalled getting his bounds removed, and scolds himself for having not attempted to escape. and now he is shackled once more, albeit with stronger, more reinforced chains.

the door slides open. even if he wanted to, he couldn’t bolt out and escape. his entire body felt so heavy — what had they put in him? this was maybe the worst sedative he’s been dosed with yet.

a figure steps into the room, but their voice is only muffled to his ears. he couldn’t even try listening. hazily, his eyes threatening to close, he looks up at them. they have gloves on, reeking of the same antiseptic causing him a headache. as they touch him, he flinches, their cold fingers biting his skin. they speak again, but he doesn’t catch anything.

soon enough, they turn away, only to return with a new item in hand. it’s the same colour as his bounds, a circular shape.

they click it around his neck.

oh. his heart sinks. he knows what it is, and he hates it. the collar buzzes quietly against his skin, not having been activated, but threatening to. karaku can’t help but let out a whimper.

soon enough, the figure leaves the room, the door shutting with a click. he lays there, cold and alone, for what seems like an eternally. the air conditioning blows icy air onto his bare skin, biting him, making him shiver. huddling against the lifeless metal wall does nothing to warm him. his chains restrict his movement, and every time he tries to get a better position, his collar hums, reminding him to behave.

but i am behaving. right? i havent disobeyed anyone. karaku drowsily thinks to himself, as he sticks closer to the corner of the room. his stomach grumbles, but he ignores it. he always does.

aizetsu whines as another needle pierces his neck, never getting used to the stinging sensation. he tries to writhe, but the straps bind him tightly to the table, holding his limbs in place. a cold metal disk presses against the skin over his heart, his heartbeat resonating in beeps from a nearby monitor. his breaths are short and panicked, eyes darting everywhere, pleading with all the onlooking scientists.

but as usual, they don’t care. one steps forward to inject an all-too-familiar purple substance into him, the needle pricking the soft flesh of his chest. aizetsu hisses, tears starting to form, as the same burning feeling grows from the needle.

what even was the point of repeatedly injecting him with wisteria? they already know its effects. it burns his insides, makes him scream and squirm, body shivering and trembling from the horrible feeling of getting melted from the inside to out. his back arches off the table as he tries, even if absolutely impossible, to shake the white-hot sensations ripping through his being. aizetsu screams and cries, tears streaming down his face, unintelligible sounds resonating from his throat.

he sounds so weak. from the esteemed rank of upper moon four, he’s been reduced to near nothing, by horrid humans and their blasted plant. aizetsu gasps for air even if he wishes dearly to just suffocated, die, and for this all to just end.

as usual, the pain lasts days. his intestines rip and tear, flaring wisteria rupturing his tired body. scientists come in and out the room to take their notes, nodding away as if he wasn’t wailing for them to spare him. as if he was a document of some sort, and his agony was of no existence.

and when it does stop, he’s left gasping, heaving for air, cheeks damp, throat raw. they’ll put the shock collar back on him, and toss him back to his cell, where he belongs. the cold ground greets his sensitive skin with a bite.

a piece of meat is tossed before him. he must eat it, or risk electrocution. the scientists make him regenerate fully before they use him again — it’s an endless cycle, and he can do nothing about it.

as he slowly chews on the thick, tasteless meat, he catches a scent.

it’s terribly familiar.

that’s strange.

slowly, he looks over to where he smells it from. The medical white corridor, outside the bars of his cell, looks back at him. there’s nothing to look at — only other cells, which he’s been shown are empty. he’s in one of the more reinforced holding areas, because of his demon rank. even if it clearly meant nothing anymore.

the scent still remains. a rusty, familiar tinge to a whiff of matcha leaves. he has smelled this before, because his head says it’s a sign of solidarity. solidarity for what? no idea. but it’s something.

aizetsu continues chewing on his rubbery food, looking down dejectedly. maybe this was another of the more psychological experiments the scientists had planned.

those were always the worst. they’d make him watch some weird animation, and suddenly he was seeing nothing but live eyeballs in the corner of his eyes. they’ll play a strange noise, and soon enough, whenever he heard it again, he’ll instantly vomit. the worst part about them was he never knew what was going to happen. at least the wisteria injections had a routine.

the smell is too vivid. aizetsu stops eating completely, head more raised, body on alert. why is it getting stronger? why does he care, anyway?

out of a rare instance of curiosity, he brings himself closer to the bars as much as his chains allow. straining his arms and raising his neck, he looks over at the cell across his.

someone does lay there, and they stare back at him.

the voice is hoarse. “zetsu?”

“k-karaku?” oh my god. oh my goodness, oh my. oh my god. aizetsu brings himself further, pulling against his restraints. he wants to shout so bad. karaku, are you alright? karaku! But if his voice were to go any higher, his collar would spare him no mercy.

“hey, ‘su,” karaku says groggily, eyes half open, but desperate. his poor blue baby brother, stuck so close yet so far, shivering and cold. it’s been far too long. he had so much to say — so many apologies, wishes, screams and cries. so badly did he want to just rip away from his shackles, run over and embrace the other, apologising as much as he could. promising protection and care.

but his body refuses to move. the sedative is too strong. Karaku curses himself for being so useless.

“karaku, don’t shout or move too much,” aizetsu whispers a warning. he caught the familiar shade of black latched to karaku’s neck, and feared for the worst. “it activates with loudness, and a high heart rate. okay?”

“okay,” karaku replies slurred. “thank you.”

“please don’t thank me,” aizetsu feels tears threatening his eyes again. “don’t. i really don’t deserve it. I’m so sorry.”

“no,” karaku does his best to shift closer, seeing how much aizetsu was straining, despite how heavy his body feels. “don’t… apologise. ‘s not your fault. been too long. miss you.”

“I… i miss you. I miss you too.” and so the tears fall, and he cannot wipe them away. the corridor is soon filled with aizetsu’s strained sniffs, and karaku’s soft coos, doing his best to assure the other everything would be alright. even if it hasn’t been, for 17 years.

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sodamors · 8 months

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hantengu clones pet au headcanons

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. read at your own risk. this is bad.

background

> in the present, humans are no longer the prey of demons. the further development of high-concentration of wisteria poisons, as well as the integration of tranquilliser bullets, has gained humans the upper hand.

> wisteria weakens the demons, disallowing their use of their blood demon art, if the poison is concentrated enough.

> muzan has gone dormant, and the demons he’s made are left to their own devices.

> most demons often surrender themselves to be captured, and sometimes domesticated.

clones

> the main body was hunted down, and then cut, so the clones formed. However, they were overwhelmed before they could form Zohakuten.

> they no longer look *exactly* the same, since they’ve been treated differently.

> They had been separated upon capture, then shipped to all sorts of places. Here’s what happened to them.

tw.

once again, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. read at your own risk. this is real bad.

graphic depictions of violence, torture, starvation, nsfw, mental and physical abuse, experimentation, absolutely inhumane acts, no comfort whatsoever

sekido • graphic depictions of violence.

> for his aggressiveness, Sekido was brought to an underground fighting ring, where rich people place bets on their favourite demons.

> he’s lost many rounds, resulting in beatings and whips, from angered betters who lost money from trusting his agression. They would pay the guards to starve him as punishment, and he would hunger for weeks on end.

> sometimes, before a fight, the betters will starve him again, but not for too long. This is so that he would become more aggressive for food, and that he’ll try to eat his opponent.

> Sekido’s body still has muscle, albeit little fat. his skin is covered in countless scars; bite marks, burns, whipping, stabs, etc. All of them are half-healed, his malnutrition disallowing his recovery.

> he no longer has his kimono, since all “clothing” are taken away from the demons. It is imposed that they deserve no covering, since their only purpose is to fight.

> because of his aggression, he is forced to wear a muzzle off-arena. It’s tight and bites into his skin, causing a terrible rash around his cheeks and neck.

> Sekido’s left leg is broken, the knee shattered and the ankle twisted at an grotesque angle. Since he’s not one of the top fighters, he is given no medical attention, and is left to feel a constant ache.

> he rarely fights anymore, and is left in his cell to remain in agony.

> but he’s more of a ‘safety net’ for betters, since he cannot die. The main body remains unharmed, so Sekido has no choice but to endure and live through all that happens to him.

~ Sekido greatly regrets speaking harshly to his counterparts, because in the end, he cared about them. He missed them all; Karaku, Aizetsu, Urogi. he just wants to see them again.

~ he hates himself for being so weak, wishing he found a way to heal faster. But it is never possible with an empty stomach.

~ Sekido hates sleeping, since it’s a form of weakness and vulnerability. But he’s become so weak and starved that he has no choice, and when he does sleep, all he sees are his brothers.

~ He often sleep talks their names, and is prodded and sometimes beaten by guards to make him stay silent.

karaku • nsfw.

> Karaku was originally brought to another underground fighting ring, but one of the betters found him cute, and bought him.

> but since then, he’s been majorly neglected by that better, who was an impulsive buyer and only played with him for a day.

> he was resold to one of the buyer’s friends, who placed him in an exotic sex house. People go there to fuck with animals and stuff. demons were of the same level of animals, so Karaku was a ‘perfect fit’.

> he’s often tied down in compromising positions, allowing for patrons to use him however they want. Sometimes they inject him with aphrodisiacs, so his body would react better to their actions.

> they feed him considerably well, making sure that he stays good-looking. The food is often raw pork mixed with blood. Karaku eats it all up because he’a often tired after long, excruciating hours of twisted people using his body for fun.

> he often has a muzzle, since his sharp teeth are a hazard to patrons. The muzzle can be swapped out for all sorts of gags and whatnot. His nails are clipped and often he wears gloves to prevent patrons from getting scratched by him. He has a shock collar that activates either when he disobeys an order, or when a patron uses it to fulfil their twisted desires.

> he feels a constant, dull pain in his abdomen, because unbeknownst to the house owners, his insides had gotten ruptured by one overly-excited patron. Karaku needs human flesh to heal better, but since he’s just given pork, the healing process isn’t going well.

> whenever he’s used, he would whimper and hiss because of the pain, but patrons just assume it’s because of the stimulation, and continue ramming directly into the spot that hurts him so much.

~ he constantly wishes for everything to end, for someone to find the main body and just kill it.

~ he hates that he feels this way, since he knows he’s supposed to be the manifestation of pleasure, and that he should be feeling good, right?

~ Karaku has given up almost completely, often laying motionless when left alone, showing no signs of trying to escape.

~ his body is maintained by the owners and not him, and they punish him (shock collar) whenever he doesn’t eat.

~ Karaku often thinks about how life was before all of this agony, and wonders where his counterparts are now. He wants so badly to get back to them, and for all of this to end.

~ at night, he would sometimes cry because he misses them so much. But he keeps his cries quiet because he doesn’t want to be punished for making noise.

aizetsu • experimentation.

> unlike the rest, Aizetsu wasn’t sold anywhere (underground fighting, sex shop, etc). the original captors kept him, but sold the rest to fund their activities.

> his captors are in a scientific organisation, and he is one of their test subjects. His register number is 412G and he is kept in their more reinforced rooms.

> they have the main hantengu body, and understand that as long as it is unharmed, Aizetsu should regenerate.

> they experiment on him often, since his special case allows him not to die.

> they develop concentrated wisteria poison and inject it into him to witness the effects, and how long it takes in theory for a demon to fight it.

> whenever this happens, aizetsu cries and tries to huddle in the corner of the lab, because all the wisteria does is burn.

> his insides light on fire and his intestines feel as if they’re rupturing all at once. He screams, twisting and contorting himself, trying to find salvation from the pain but to no avail.

> the burning can last for days on end, as they inject higher and higher concentrations of wisteria. Aizetsu wails and shivers as the scientists show no mercy when handling him, using machinery to hold him in place when necessary.

> they don’t use anaesthesia because they ‘need to see the true effects’.

> Aizetsu is only fed water, and other nutrients are injected into him every morning, afternoon and evening. He also has a exercise routine, but he barely follows instructions, and remains shivering in the corner.

> aizetsu is extremely shifty, sobbing whenever someone tries to get close.

> sometimes, they use Aizetsu for psychological experimentation-

> leaving him starved for days on end, then seeing if he would eat, even if it means getting electrocuted when approaching the food.

> depriving him of breathing for several minutes, until he was barely conscious, and then ringing a bell. They will then see if ringing the bell independently will cause him to go dizzy.

> etc.

> Aizetsu often bites his nails from anxiety, so much that his fingers sometimes bleed.

> scientists ensure there are no sharp objects nearby, otherwise Aizetsu would try to cut himself.

~ Aizetsu never stops crying.

~ he horribly misses his counterparts, no matter ‘how annoying’ they were in the past. Day by day, he wishes he never scrutinised them when they were around. They were the only family he knew, and now they’re gone.

~ he has a horrible feeling that they’re experiencing things like he is, and maybe even worse. He often throws up at the thought, and is reprimanded by the scientists.

urogi • broken.

> urogi had been sold to a collector of sorts.

> the collector in question actually only wanted his wings and talons, so after purchase, requested for Urogi to be declawed and his wings amputated.

> in the waiting for the declawing/dewinging appointment, urogi thought that his owner cared about him, and was content with the care he didn’t know was only temporary.

> Urogi would fluff up in excitement whenever he saw food or the owner themselves.

> when the day came, urogi was obedient and friendly, thinking that he would be fine.

> but terror hit him when they strapped him down to the operating table, and took out the knives and tools they were going to use on him.

> it was an excruciating five hours-

> his wings were slowly removed, and he screamed and cried and tried to tell them to stop, but they put a shock collar on him to shut him up. The operators were unaffected since they wore rubber gloves.

> he had no choice but to silently endure the pain, soft whines of agony escaping him time to time. The blade dug into his precious, beloved wings, and soon enough, he found tears streaming down his face.

> and then his position changed. Since the owner did not care for him and only his wings and claws, the operators could do anything with the rest. They placed him on his back, sending sharp, violent pains throughout his body, the open wounds of his wing-bases pressed on the table.

> and his arms were strapped above his head, and bright lights shown on his face.

> he screamed again, causing another shock through his neck, and to follow that up, he felt a sharp piercing red feeling at his knuckles.

> his talons were pried off his fingers, from their very bases, at his knuckles. They tore of the surrounding skin bit by bit, forcing whine after whimper out of him, ignoring all forms of pleading.

> his remaining body, robbed of all of his prized features, was left in the warehouse of the collector.

> chained up to a pole, he softly squeaks at any shadow that moves, hoping and praying for rescue.

> stuck starving to death, but since the main body was unharmed, but he would never die.

~ urogi simply waits until his counterparts would come get him.

~ whenever they fought, they had his back, didn’t they? Wouldn’t they help him now?

~ why weren’t they coming? Did they forget him?

~ and the horrible realisation, that they were maybe captured too, dawned upon him, and his heart screamed in terror and denial.

#hantengu clones #hantengu #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #pet au #sekido #kny urogi #urogi #aizetsu #karaku #writeblr #headcanons #I feel so silly goofy #weeeheheheee #you can tell i love them very much

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