Tumgik
#i hate how this turned out ugh
puppyeared · 4 months
Text
its so hard to watch time pass when things like careers and assignments exist. what do you mean im supposed to take that seriously
#I have an assignment that was due a week ago and I really really dont want to do it. I have to but i dont want to#im probably making it worse because my brain has built a wall around it so now i can’t do literally anything else until thats done. but#because I don’t want to do it I’m just kinda stuck. turns out this is what they meant when they said emotional regulation is part of#exec dysfunction.. I’ll have a thought like if I get a little bit of it done now i can get it over with. I can just submit something#and then not even 5 minutes later itll be like ugh but I have to draw all the assets out. I have to write things and make spreads ugh#and its just flopping between those two things. i hate it when ppl are like well how much time do you need to work on one thing#because BOY id love to know too. I’d love to know exactly when my brain wants to cooperate with me and work around that but I cant#even my period can’t decide when it wants to punch me in the stomach. which is kinda funny in the grand scheme of things but still#its so weird im just lying on my bed thinking abt all this like damn.. the time will pass anyways no matter what I decide to do.. damn….#if I submit that assignment now and take the L I literally won’t die. it’ll just be a deduction on an assignment nobody will ask me about#I know this but I’m still stressing myself about it so my thoughts aren’t really connecting to my body. weird#maybe its because Im having a hard time looking forward to things. theres definitely a lot I should be living for but I don’t really feel#a strong attachment to it I guess? it’s been like this for a while with holidays and meeting with friends so I just don’t#I kinda figured its because im pretty passionless and its more like passing interest. but it’s not very fun when it feels like I’m going to#be living distraction to distraction for the next 70 years or so lol#idk it kind of feels like slowly bleeding out. which is funny because I actually did experience blood loss this week#had a 30 minute nosebleed and literally could not stand. also it felt like someone was pinching the back of my brain which was interesting#yapping#does this count as vent#vent#Ive just been making an oc carrd and contemplate changing my blog header for the past 3 days honestly
165 notes · View notes
cenpede · 11 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Good afternoon gamers have some more 50% text 50% art about my delusions 😎🤙
299 notes · View notes
skyshipper · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
@PSCENTRAL​ EVENT 21: GROWTH WEDNESDAY EMBRACING THE HUG
129 notes · View notes
sensazioneultra · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Sorry. It’s fine, it’s fine.
SILENT (2022)
598 notes · View notes
keeps-ache · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
didn't you lose yourself in those chains?
[highly recommended you click and zoom __(:'o_)\_]
[just background and transparent below :D]
Tumblr media
Tumblr media Tumblr media
3K notes · View notes
lunarharp · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
"Found out" set in kind of a made-up chapter where the girls are in trouble, or something.
#witch hat tag#orufrey#i hate having a strong cinematic image in your mind for months..working hours on it..& at the end looking you have to be like “Sure. :/"#i'm especially unsatisfied with the beginning and the end and how i can't get eyebrows to work as i want#but i dont care any more... this is probably the comic that has given me the most trouble ever i just dont care#i barely even care whatsoever if anyone even sees this..Ugh..but at least i can move on to the next era now#i'm just annoyed i cant get out good enough my image of qifrey flinching bc he thinks oru will hit him but then he is not hit#i feel like sensei will do something along these lines. i want to see what she will do.#there are also other variations i have in my mind. i just want to know#i just don't want it to happen with qifrey on his deathbed or something. but it possibly will. I DONT EVEN KNOW.#i have another very cinematic image in my mind for something sort of along those lines which i will do soon. it never ends...#btw after this is probably my fics. yeah.... i think it has to be my fics. jasmine sort of goes along these lines#i need that space for dialogue. look - i'm a writer. this is HARD for me. so i am really glad i had the space and freedom of words#to process all the feelings. but i tried to get something out in a quick visual space too. <- me defending myself to myself at cai court#anyway going along the lines of 'Jasmine' - they talk this out and argue and cry and oru pushes the hat at him and tells him#why not just erase every memory i have of you then. That would be easier for us all wouldn't it?#they kiss and sob and kiss and lie outside in the flowers for many hours in that one. and then there's 'Deep End' where it turns out#way way way way more time and words is needed for this actually and that's upsetting for everyone.#the destruction of the hat is certainly another path to take. Can you make this work without that hat going up in flames?#something you have always had and have been clinging to will have to be destroyed. You have to lose something now. This is the crux qifrey#I CANT GET IT OUT IN ONE COMIC!!! I CANT DRAW IT OUT!!!! I NEEDED THOSE FICS!!!! PRAISE WORDS!!!! whatever im going to have dinner now
43 notes · View notes
fennecfiree · 2 months
Text
silly tweek drawing
Tumblr media
27 notes · View notes
solarpunkani · 3 months
Text
I hate needing backup jobs for my backup jobs
Like. Animation industry is kinda a bust rn. Local library and USPS branch aren’t hiring (unless I learn how to fix up cars and trucks REAL quick). Freelance writing implies I have articles out already, which I don’t. Anything I can find so far thats mildly naturey either pays 13 bucks an hour, involves chainsaws and bears, or both.
Like. What the fuck else do I do? Rot? *Retail?*
100 more reasons why capitalism sucks. How the hell am I supposed to get years of experience if no one’ll hire me and a MASTERS degree isn’t worth shit? How am I supposed to improve my portfolio if 75% of the jobs I apply to won’t even answer back? Why do I HAVE to have a job in order to even survive, let alone get my own place with a nice garden? And why is going back to school a near-impossible option because ~debt~ and ~loans~?
Why can’t we just have nice things
36 notes · View notes
snake-cabin · 1 year
Text
“Hungry For Something New”
Tumblr media
Werewolf!Dabi x Female Reader
*vampire!tomura*
word count: 13,000+
(During a trip through the woods to your grandmother’s house, your journey takes a rather unusual and horrifying turn. Because you’ve heard the rumors about the monsters that roam between the trees, the things that exist between man and beast, and it just so happens one of them has set their sights on you. But, even at the end of it all, you still can’t quite determine whether Dabi is truly the enemy that the village paints him as— the villain he seems so intent on trying to prove to you he is— or just a lonely outcast who needs some company from time to time. Who knows though… perhaps, you’ll find yourself running into him again on another outing in the future.)
disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! red riding hood au, smut, loss of virginity, mention of a dead sibling, predator/prey dynamics, references to church/religion, dubcon, angsty and manipulative (but lowkey soft) dabi, title taken from “i want you” by george barnett, happy halloween everyone!
*ao3 mirror*
***
The brisk chill of mid-fall snuck in through the crack of your bedroom window, and from beyond the latticed glass, the next gentle gust that swept by stirred up little whirlwinds of orange and brown leaves in a short, wispy waltz.
As you rose from your bed, shrugging off the layers of quilted blankets, a shiver skittered through your bones. You rubbed your eyes, felt a yawn rising in your chest, and once it had passed you caught the faint sounds of two familiar voices muttering beyond your door.
“What’s going on out here?” you’d asked with a cheery kind of curiosity as you’d entered into the quaint living area, the fireplace already lit and a neatly wrapped box adorned with a silky crimson bow placed perfectly on the kitchen table.
Your parents had exchanged knowing looks, both of them wearing mischievous smirks at sharing the secret, and urged you to go and find out for yourself.
You sat in one of the rickety old chairs, the hand-sewn cushions placed upon them having flattened over time, and adjusted your thin nightgown over your lap before scooting in closer to the table and sliding the box towards yourself.
At first, you just wanted to stare at it, mesmerized by how much care had been put into the wrapping alone, but then, once you felt the pressure of your parents’ eyes watching over you, waiting to experience your reaction, you gave the bow a gentle tug, undoing it before gingerly pulling apart the pretty paper of the package.
You gasped when you first caught a glimpse of the vibrant red color through the layers of white tissue paper, looking over your shoulder at your parents as if to ask, “Is this what I think it is?” and your mother gave you an encouraging nod to continue.
Once you revealed the contents of the box a little more, lifting it from its pristinely folded place, you still almost couldn’t believe it.
“This is—” you’d begun to say, eyes sparkling with admiration as you studied the craftsmanship— everything from the evenly sewn stitches to the silk lined interior and the shiny gold clasp to fasten the crimson cloak shut.
“I know how much you’ve been wanting a new one,” your mother cut in, drifting closer to your side and urging you to stand up and try it on. “Your old one was starting to look a little tattered, and I figured since you’ve been helping out so much by taking those deliveries to your grandmother every week…”
But then, as you ran your fingers through the fluffy fur trim of the hood— black with sporadic yet distinct speckles of grey and white— your smile dropped and you looked to your father.
“It’s the one from last year,” he answered before you could ask, expression solemn, already knowing you knew just as well the exact animal it had come from. 
At first, the wolf had managed to sneak in during the night and kill off what little livestock your family had— all five of the hens, the turkey, and both of the goats— only, even after it had claimed the final one of its prey, it hadn’t stopped there.
You’d had a baby brother, a little over a year ago.
He’d almost been five.
Your mother still had a trio of nasty, jagged scars slashed through her arm at the failed attempt made to defend her son.
You’d been away at your grandmother’s that day, running another delivery, only to return home to be met with the blood and the horror and the terrible loss.
Once word of the tragedy had reached the nearby town, the church had called it a work of a demon, the head priest coming by to sage and salt your little cabin on the edge of the forest’s clearing.
But your father had never believed in the hellish lore spread by the bishops and believers in town. He knew the creature was living, breathing, mortal.
Though, he’d vowed as he’d taken up his gun and started out the front door back then, not for much longer.
He’d caught the culprit a couple weeks later, tracked the beast further into the woods and shot it dead as it devoured a deer, carnage dripping from its maw, bits of raw flesh dangling from its fangs, lips curled back in a vicious snarl when its amber eyes landed on the hunter for but a moment before the trigger was pulled and the bang sent all the crows fleeing from the trees.
That gunshot hadn’t brought your brother back, and the pelt of the animal would never heal your mother, but having dragged the monster back and stolen its skin did ensure that it couldn’t hurt anyone else.
And you hated wolves. Hated them. Had hated them even before the incident.
But now, seeing the remains of the creature decorating your pretty red cloak was…
Well, it was unsettling, to say the least.
Before you could determine whether it was morally wrong to wear the coat of your brother’s killer, your father added, “With this, no other creature will dare harm you…” He approached you, took the cloak from its grip in your trembling hands and slung it over your shoulders, your mother buttoning the clasp, both of them standing back to take a look at you, their oldest and only remaining child. “It’s your shield now. Wear it with pride.”
You stroked the fur again, closing your eyes for a moment as your brother’s smiling face flashed through your head, an image that seemed to fade more and more by the day.
You’d never seen the wolf— never seen any wolf while venturing through the woods, thank god— but from the damage it had done and the way your father had described it in the moments before the creature became a corpse was enough to give you a clear picture of how terrifying and ferocious it had been.
You let out a shaky breath, trying to steady your mind before looking back to your parents with a sadder, softer expression. “Thank you…” you said, fighting to bite back tears. “Both of you, really…” You reached up to put an arm around each of them, pulling the three of you into a hug. Then, into their shoulders, you muttered, “I’ll take good care of it.”
But today there wasn’t much time for an emotional moment of bonding, for you had a rather important delivery to make. Your grandmother lived alone, insisting on staying in the cabin her own father had built back when he and his wife had first settled on this land. It was the house she’d grown up in, had gotten married in, wanted to die in when her day came to pass, and the journey there and back would take you half a day, getting you home right before dark so long as you stayed on track.
While your mother packed some last minute things into a wicker basket, you got changed, choosing your favorite white dress and hickory brown corset, the one that laced up in the front, your boots— worn from the consistent travel over rough terrain— a similar color to match.
Your old cloak had been a lighter shade of brown, constructed using the leftover scraps of fabric from an old winter coat your mother had made for your father, and had started fraying and tearing at the edges a few years ago, unlined and undecorated and plain.
As you fastened the billowing cloak of crimson back around your shoulders, the black fur popping against the brilliant burst of color, and gave yourself a look in the mirror, you couldn’t help but admire not just the garment’s beauty, but your own.
This shade of red gave you a rather sophisticated air, but also alluded to something dangerous.
You couldn’t help but smirk at your reflection, liking the confidence glinting in your eyes, looking more like a predator than prey for once. You felt like, even if you did encounter a wolf, it was a fight you could win.
“Absolutely gorgeous, darling,” your mother complimented as you emerged from your room, ready to depart as soon as she handed over the basket to you. She adjusted your cloak, fidgeted with the bow tied hastily on your corset, and then lovingly smoothed down your hair. You leaned into her touch, her warm palm pressed to your cheek.
“Be careful out there,” she reminded you, as if she ever gave you a chance to forget.
“Aren’t I always?” you responded with a playfully devious raise of one eyebrow.
But then, before you could give your final farewells, your father beckoned you back into the kitchen, seeming to have a gift of his own to bestow upon you.
“Just in case,” he said as he handed you a silver dagger, the blade freshly sharpened and shining under the white morning light that flooded in through the window above the stove, the rays cutting through the thin veil of fog that had started settling over the land at dawn.
You gripped the hilt, testing the weight of the weapon in your hand as you began, “But I thought you said—” the wolf’s fur would be enough to protect me.
“I know what I said,” your father cut in, closing his hands around the one of yours that held the dagger, a silent plea for you not to fight about it and just comply, even if only for his own sake. “But there are more than just wolves to worry about in those woods,” he warned, the way his stare shifted from stoic to stern making you swallow down any remaining objections you had. “If you ever find yourself in a situation that you can’t outrun…” His grip around your hand tightened a bit, and you were sure that, in that moment, he was being flayed by the guilt at not being able to save your brother, his son. “Promise me you’ll fight.”
You didn’t know what to say, could only stare up at him with big, terrified eyes before blinking away the hesitation and forcing a firm nod, replying with a low and hopefully convincing enough, “I promise.”
Your father kissed your head, ran his fingers through the black beast’s fur on the hem of your hood, and then reminded you not to stray from the main path.
You never did, never had, would never even dream of it…
Or, at least, that’s what you’d told your parents time and time again.
Truth was, you were often tempted to traverse a little further into the trees, wind through the maze of dense forest in hopes of finding some rare wild flowers or a ripe berry bush or any other amenity the land would be generous enough to lend you.
But you’d been scared stiff by the echoing shouts of hunters, the sharp bark of their dogs, the eerie howls and cawing of the crows that rippled through the air as the sun sank closer to the horizon. Sometimes, you jumped upon hearing a twig snap only for a rabbit or squirrel to scamper out from the brush.
And, even though your family had assured you there was nothing besides humans or animals to fear lurking in the woods, you’d heard others in town— both believers and skeptics alike— whisper rumors about shapeshifting monsters that lured in naive travelers only to eat them alive, leaving their carcasses split open with splintering ribs and missing hearts.
There was one old woman who claimed to have survived such a creature in her own youth. Most people considered her mad, gone crazy after her husband’s gruesome death, or, as some more sympathetic spectators of her stories believed, the result of escaping a wolf attack that left her traumatized and therefore believing the culprit to be more fiction than fact.
But you’d heard her recite the tale before— seen that look in her eyes, a wild, feral kind of fear unlike anything you’d ever experienced— and if she wasn’t convinced she was telling the truth, then she sure was one hell of a storyteller.
The church thought her riddled with dark magic and demons, the altar boys encouraged to shoo her away from the front steps of the cathedral with their brooms as they swept if she migrated too close and, a few times, you’d heard some of the older boys making cruel jokes about how the town ought to tie the old woman to a cross and do away with her the same way they did to those suspected of being witches or devil worshipers— the accused swallowed by vicious flames and charred down to black ash. They said perhaps she’d be put out of her babbling misery then, but you didn’t think the old woman was crazy or afflicted by something evil.
You knew she was just scared.
Scared like your mother had been in the months following your brother’s death, afraid the creature, though deceased, would somehow call upon its brethren to seek revenge against the hunter’s wife who’d escaped, though not entirely unscathed.
“That’s another good thing about this new cloak,” your mother interrupted your morbid daydream, smiling at you in that tender, loving way of hers, despite everything. “With this color, the hunters will be able to spot you more easily. I used to worry about you accidentally getting mistaken for a deer and shot with your old one…”
“Easier for hunters to spot,” your father agreed, but then added with his usual bout of cynicism, “and predators too.”
Your mother gave him an unamused glare, not wanting this day to be spoiled more than it already had, before turning her adoration back onto you, reminding you once more to stay safe and hurry back before dark, promising to have your favorite soup ready for dinner upon your return. That got a smile back on your face.
You shared one last hug with your mother before heading out the door, waving behind you as you trekked up the hill, occasionally glancing back until your house disappeared through the fog.
And then it was just you and the forest that lay ahead, nature’s ambiance quick to surround you on all sides, sometimes making you stop and wonder if you’d just heard your name being called from far off in the distance or if it were merely a mix of your imagination and the ravens’ croak.
But when you heard the distant, eerie echoes of what you could’ve sworn was a howl, you didn’t question if it was just in your head. You knew, that time, it was real. So you adjusted the basket slung over your arm and picked up the pace.
***
By midday, the fog had only grown thicker, and you didn’t dare stop for your usual afternoon snack break, too afraid you’d lose sight of the sun’s hazy, blurred position through the misty clouds and end up running late, causing you to get caught in the dark on your way home— something to be avoided at all costs.
But it wasn’t only the fog that had you on edge, barely able to see more than a few yards ahead of you with each step, but the fact that a distinct pang of paranoia had settled over you not long after losing sight of your house.
You felt like you were being followed, being watched, and for all the trips you’d made over the years running these deliveries, you’d never quite felt something as strong and unshakable as whatever this feeling was.
You couldn’t stop glancing over your shoulder, quickening your step when a low growl or— even worse— an almost human sound echoed through the curtain of pine. You kept finding yourself short of breath, heart skipping a beat then hammering behind your ribs when you took off in a short sprint, racing to the next turn of the path before repeating the cycle of paranoia, perception, perplexity, and panic.
At one point though, you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself, shaking your head at how utterly ridiculous you were acting. Because why, with all your experience traveling these woods without incident, would something choose to change that now?
Maybe it’s demons, a traitorous voice in your head hissed, or maybe it’s the monster who traumatized that old woman. Maybe it’s finally awoken from its long slumber and is hunting for a new victim.
To distract yourself from your less desirable thoughts, you started humming a familiar, calming tune, one your mother used to sing to lull you to sleep as a child. You finished the melody once through, going to repeat the phrase a second time, only halfway through stopped short when a low, smoky voice began harmonizing with your own.
You froze midstep, sucking in a short gasp as your eyes went wide, searching the scene before you as if you expected the owner of the voice to come into view like a ghost through the fog, silhouette shifting behind the veil before stepping into sharper focus.
However, when it finished the song for itself, it let out a low, sinister chuckle, a growl laced throughout the husky sound.
You whirled around, expecting to see the figure standing behind you, yet was only met with more emptiness. You went to reach for your knife, but your hand never even made it to the hilt.
The moment you spotted two sapphire orbs glowing through the mist, you turned and took off running.
***
With the path long abandoned and the forest growing even thicker with every panic-stricken stride you took, the wicker basket and its contents scattered long behind you in a trail of bread and cheese and berries and herbs, you didn’t even have time to comprehend just how lost you really were.
All you could focus on was not tripping over the uprooted trees and thorny underbrush as you dashed and leapt further into the fog.
There was a moment when you thought of that horrible black wolf— the one that you knew to be dead, the fur around your neck a solid and sure reminder of that— and the mental image of the devoured deer it had been feasting on when your father had finally found and shot it dead.
You were the deer— you realized as you leapt across a shallow stream, nearly stumbling and falling upon your landing, scrambling to stay upright and keep going— soon to be consumed by whatever was giving chase, your pursuer not far behind from the sound of fast, heavy footsteps catching up closer and closer by the minute.
But you were being played with, your terror utilized as amusement.
Because, if he really wanted to, he could’ve caught you before you’d even had the chance to take one more step down the path. He could’ve leapt out and pinned you to the dirt and the leaves and sunk his fangs into your throat before you even had the chance to scream.
But that would be no fun, Dabi had thought to himself as he gave chase, tormenting you even further as he howled and cackled behind you, wanting to remind you that, even if you couldn’t see him, he was still there, still closing in and soon to trap you, quick little rabbit that you were.
And it was so cute, how hard you were trying to escape, thinking you stood even an iota of a chance when up against him. Adorable, how you kept letting out little whimpers and whines whenever the toe of your boot caught under a rock or a vine and you nearly went tumbling forward, breath catching with the first signs of sobs when you began to realize you just couldn’t shake him.
When he finally did decide to catch you, he was going to have so much fun, absolutely savoring the way you would writhe in his grip, trying so hard and failing to get free as the reality of the situation dug its claws in deep and made you shake with terror.
“Oh little rabbiiiiiiiit!” he sang, forcing you to glance over your shoulder once more, this time causing you to take the crucial misstep that finally ended this chase, sending you tripping and tumbling down to the ground, rolling a few times and collecting some brittle leaves inside your cloak which was now smudged with dirt.
You tried to get up but winced when you felt a sharp pain in your ankle, having twisted it on your way down, leaving you to struggle and try to crawl away, pulling yourself towards the nearest tree to help yourself stand upright again, pathetically attempting to limp further away.
But then, from behind the next tree you were about to pass, out stepped your pursuer to bar your path, tall and thin and far too smug for anyone’s good, his cobalt gaze cutting through the fog before the rest of him could. Dabi stood before you, arms crossed as he leaned against the trunk of the pine, declaring through a barely amused drawl, “Caught’cha.”
You went to dive away from him, yelping when he caught your wrist in one of his fists and yanked you back, his fingers digging painfully into your hammering pulse and making you grit your teeth and whimper, holding you up by your arm and trying to get a better look at you.
“Hmm…” he hummed in contemplation. You could feel his breath on your face as you squeezed your eyes shut and turned your face away, too afraid to stare directly into that smoldering sapphire, knowing you’d only be met with cruelty and a sadistic sort of satisfaction that he’d caught you— caught his prey.
“Well, would you look at that…” he went on, taking your chin in his other hand, forcing your face to turn forward again. You were crying now, tears leaking through your tightly shut eyes as every breath you exhaled shuddered more than the last. He let out a puff of a laugh, grip on your jaw tightening until you had no choice but to look at him, pleading with your eyes for him to stop, that he was hurting you, begging for him to let you go. “You’re a lot prettier when you’re not running away from me, y’know.”
He squeezed your jaw hard enough until your mouth was forced open, flashing a sharp-toothed smirk when you let out a terrified and slightly embarrassed little squeak.
You’d never seen a man with teeth like his before, incisors sharp enough to tear through flesh and bone and tendon, sharp enough to rip another’s throat out as easily as tearing off a chunk from a loaf of fresh, warm bread.
More tears welled in your eyes, spilling down your dirt-smudged cheeks and meeting under your chin, dripping down into the fur of your cloak.
“Why ya cryin’?” he asked, cocking his head slightly to one side, faking innocence. His smirk returned though, hooking one of his thumbs into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue as he concluded with a dark and threatening, “I haven’t even done anything to you yet.” When you tried to pull your head free, his grip on your jaw only increased, using the pain to hold you in place.
If you ever find yourself in a situation you can’t outrun, your father had said, promise me you’ll fight.
You’d nodded your head, accepted the knife as you made the promise.
And you’d tried running. It hadn’t gotten you anywhere good.
Perhaps it was time to consider the alternative.
“What’re you doin’ out here all alone, little lamb?” he cooed, slipping his thumb back a little further, nearly making you gag, and pressed down firm on your glistening pink tongue, mesmerized as your spit began to collect and pool, licking his lips as his own mouth salivated. “It’s dangerous for a girl like you, y’know…”
Then, you bit down on his thumb hard. Hard enough to make him swear and pull his hand back from you, giving you just enough time to reach for your dagger and take a swing at him, cutting a slash through his wrist, albeit shallow.
He hissed and growled, flashing a feral kind of fury your way as you inched back, pointing the end of the blade out before you and ready to strike again if he dared get close enough. Dabi knew you couldn’t get very far running with an injured ankle, probably couldn’t even walk without too much pain, so it wasn’t you getting away that he needed to worry about. You were aware of this too, but you couldn’t let him onto your own self-doubt.
You thought back to your reflection in the mirror that morning, the red cloak that covered you reminding you of a rose— beautiful from afar, but if reached for would be quick to prick you with its thorns.
That’s right, you thought to yourself with malice, I can be dangerous too.
You slashed the weapon through the air, trying to lunge forward half a step as an intimidation tactic, but that air of confidence fell from your entire being the moment you took his appearance in full, enough distance between you two now for you to see the whole picture, the unmistakable ears and tail that could only belong to a wolf perched upon his spiky black hair and swishing irritably behind him.
But it wasn’t just those characteristics that caught you so off guard.
It was his scars too. So many of them pressed under his eyes and jaw, his neck and chest and in discolored blotches trailing up and down his arms, his hands, skin melted and marred by what you could only guess were burns.
But what— or who— could have done something like that to him?
You realized it was likely only one person— one group of people— on account of how often the church liked to remind the public how they dealt with things they deemed inhuman.
Maybe if this man (if he could be considered as such) weren’t trying to kill you, you’d feel sorry for him…
Dabi let out another one of those sinister chuckles, proving himself to be anything but amused as he waded back into the fog, speaking as he disappeared into the mist, “You really shouldn’t’ve done that…” And then he was gone. Out of sight, but not retreating.
You turned in small, stuttering circles as you tried not to shift too much weight onto your sore ankle, dagger held out before you and ready to draw more of his blood if you so much as thought you saw his form shift through the mist.
But he was merely toying with you again, hiding out and letting your own terror unravel you, letting it wear you down enough so you lost some of your fight before he would strike again.
And it was working, the more adrenaline you lost, the more your injury began to ache, the looser your form became, and then, just as you were beginning to think perhaps he really was gone, that now your biggest problem would be making it out of these woods alive, forget about before nightfall, you backed up into something— someone.
“Why don’t you put the knife down…” Dabi’s voice sounded right beside your ear, his fist once again latching around your wrist, squeezing until the pain caused you to unclench your fist and drop the blade, your last hope at fighting swallowed up by the thick ferns by your feet. “Wouldn’t wanna hurt yourself.”
“That’s rich…” you retorted with scorn, wincing as his grip pressed in harder, merely for the sake of drawing more of those pitiful whimpers from you, “coming from you…”
Dabi let out a sardonic scoff, pulling you back against his chest, holding you in place even as you twisted and writhed against him to break free. “Yeah, well…” he murmured, grabbing your other wrist and twisting it painfully behind your back, nearly causing your knees to buckle as you let out a yelp, “I think I wanna be the one to hurt you.”
You kept trying to fight, even tried to scream, but Dabi didn’t seem to be concerned with being overpowered or overheard. Eventually, he even seemed to grow bored of the whole thing, as if this wasn’t a matter of life and death.
Well, for him, you supposed it wasn’t.
“What are you gonna do to me?” you eventually gained enough courage to ask, trying to spit the question out with more fury than fear. “Gonna eat me alive and leave my corpse for the crows to pick at?”
He seemed to freeze then, as if confused, before letting out a real laugh and saying, “Oh wow, so they still spread those kinds of rumors in the village, huh?” He adjusted his grip on you, flipping you around so you were facing him now, though was quick to back you up against the nearest tree, taking both your wrists in one fist and pinning them above your head, bark scraping against the tops of your hands, caging you in as he leaned in towards your face and spoke in a voice just barely above a whisper, those glowing sapphires narrowed in a sick, satisfied kind of cruelty, “Bet they scared all the kids stiff with stories of the big bad wolf, huh?”
You winced and turned your face away from him again as he drew nearer, his lips ghosting over your neck as he nudged his nose into your hair, taking in the scent of you, memorizing it.
And, god, if he’d been drawn in by your pathetic little sounds of struggle before, so weak and helpless against him, then your smell was enough to drive him crazy.
He had half a mind to sink his fangs into you right then and there just to save himself the trouble of keeping you compliant later. Or, he then figured, perhaps he’d like to hear you gasp and yelp once he finally got a taste of your blood.
But you were still insisting on playing the bravery card, or whatever little of it you had left, stuttering out in response to his taunting, “Y-yeah well, if what they describe in the stories really is you, then I’m afraid they’ve severely over-exaggerated.”
Another one of those patronizing chuckles, the tilting of his head as he pulled back to stare you directly in the eyes, his cerulean glare burning through you as you forced yourself not to look away. You gulped, your entire body trembling, and he brought his free hand up to your neck, lightly tracing the line of your throat, almost as if admiring it, your skin soft under his calloused fingertips.
When you tried to tug away, his grip on your wrists only tightened, the pain continuing to keep you obedient, and the scariest part was quickly becoming how unpredictable he was, so set on tormenting and hurting you one moment only to touch you like you were the first human he’d come across in who knows how long the next.
Well, the more you thought about it, the more you realized that you probably were the first human he’d come across in a while…
“I’ve seen you out here before, y’know,” Dabi then admitted, his voice soft and soothing, a stark contrast to the way he was crushing your wrists in his palm, your bones grinding together and making you grit your teeth. “But today…” He took the fabric of your cloak between his lithe fingers, tracing the line of the hem up towards where the black fur bordered the hood, tufts of it tickling your cheek when you tried to turn further away from him. “Today this caught my attention.”
Again, your father’s warning came back to you with horror, like ice settling in the pit of your stomach, a sinking realization.
Easier for hunters to spot, and predators too.
Even with the dagger, you’d been nothing but helpless prey.
“It’s new…” he remarked, carding his fingers through the fur, gazing at it, almost with a hint of recognition, maybe even fondness, before flicking his stare back to meet yours. “Isn’t it?”
“It’s from the wolf that killed my little brother!” you snarled, eyes brimming with tears again, though this time it was all resentment. “That’s what we do to monsters around here. We end them. Then we wear the remains to warn their friends that they’ll be next!”
Your frightened shaking had turned into enraged quaking, gaining some of your fight back despite now being unarmed and outmatched. Because you had teeth and claws of your own. They might not’ve been as sharp, but the intention behind the attack would land regardless. The moment he let you go, you’d show him.
The scarred man— wolf— whatever he was— narrowed his sapphire glare, clenching his jaw, clearly displeased with your commentary on his kind, but then, to your own surprise, he actually released you.
You were so shocked you nearly forgot about attacking him, just stood there, waiting for him to move impossibly fast again and pin you to the ground and stain your white dress to match your cloak with your own blood.
“It’ll be sundown soon,” he then said, voice calm yet still warning. “You don’t wanna get caught out in these parts after dark.”
You scowled at him, wishing you still had your knife, trying to search through all the fern and reddened flora touched by fall for a glint of silver without being too obvious, and replied, “What I wanted was to be at my grandmother’s by now and already headed home!” You adjusted your cloak, fidgeting with the gold clasp, not daring to take your eyes off him. “But even if I wanted to get there at this hour, it wouldn’t even matter because you destroyed my basket!”
“Oh, I was the one who destroyed it?” he asked, lazily faking offense. “Actually, I think it was you who dropped it back there when you veered off the path.”
“Only because you chased me!” you bellowed, sentence upturned towards the end with a frustrated shriek. “So if this is all fun and games for you, I hope you’re satisfied! But, if you don’t mind, I need to find my way back to the main path.”
You went to take a step and walk past him, suddenly feeling more inconvenienced by his antics than anything, but he grabbed your arm, yanking you back and making you hiss and shoot him a venomous glare. “You think you’re gonna make it home before dark with that injury?” He glanced at your ankle, which was surely a little swollen inside of your boot with the way you were still limping on it.
You shrugged him off then, not keen on accepting any of his favors, if that’s what this was leading to. “Well what choice do I have?” you asked rhetorically, frustrations fading back into fear.
Because he was right.
You wouldn’t make it home before dark going half the speed that having two working feet normally lent you, and you most certainly didn’t want to be caught out here without a way to run if things turned south, especially in this unrelenting fog.
He cracked another one of those sly smirks, eyelids drawn down halfway over his entrancing blues, the points of his incisors poking out from behind the crooked, scarred smile. With his ears mischievously perked, he said, “I know a place you can stay the night,” and a part of you was starting to wonder if it just would’ve been better if he’d killed you like you’d thought he was going to do before.
Because wherever he was taking you, whatever was to transpire, would be a lot harder to explain away than the gruesome death of a girl devoured by some beast on her way through the woods.
If you were lucky enough to live to tell the tale, that is.
Bending down, you reached into the tufts of fern until your fingertips brushed against the dagger, taking up the blade with your eyes still trained on him, only placing the weapon in its sheath once you felt he wasn’t going to attack again.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” you asked, trying to inject some authority into your voice despite your distrust in him and the situation you were willingly walking into. “Lead the way.”
***
His cabin was nice, all things considered.
It was nestled between a shroud of thick, prickly pines, deep in the woods— deeper than you ever dared even think about going.
“Did you make this?” you asked, scoping the place out as you turned in slow circles about the room, your injured ankle still throbbing with a dull pain but, so long as you kept a majority of your weight off of it, wasn’t too bad.
As he stoked a fire in the hearth, Dabi replied with a disinterested drawl, “Found it abandoned a while back. Before, well, y’know…” You didn’t know, actually, but you didn’t ask any further questions, were too focused on the collection of miscellaneous items that decorated the place, the chilling thought that perhaps they’d once belonged to lost travelers just like you setting you back on edge. “Anyway, I came back and claimed it once they ran me outta town.” He stood with a quiet groan, studying you with those glowing eyes from across the room, his ears going flat against his head as he saw you about to touch one of his trinkets, snapping at you to keep your hands to yourself.
Like he could talk.
“Sorry…” you squeaked out, hands pulling back into your chest and away from the multi-colored scarf you’d been hovering by. But then you perked up, his prior words seeming to register to you suddenly. “Once they ran you out of town?” you repeated, voice upturning with the question. “Who? The village? Did you used to live there?”
Dabi crossed the room, stalking near, arms crossed and gait lazy, yet his ears perked forward, a dangerous kind of inquisitiveness flaring in his cobalt glare. You took a few steps back, keeping the distance the best you could, but wincing when you put too much weight on your injury.
“You mean you really don’t know?” he asked, one inky brow lifting.
He was so close now, caging you against the wall with his presence alone, and again, with your hand resting on the hilt of the dagger, you found yourself examining his scars, all the scorched flesh that wrinkled and pulled in what looked to be such a painful way every time his face made even the slightest expression.
“I really don’t know…” you admitted, terror filling your body. You gulped, hoping to swallow down as much fear as you could stomach, but Dabi didn’t miss the way the confession quivered slightly towards the end.
Now he smirked, that cold, cruel grin tugging at his scars and making the smile spread crooked. “Huh… Well, I guess by the looks of you, you would’ve been just a kid, too,” he began, his tail lifting a little, the black fur of it catching the amber firelight around the edges. “You don’t live in the town, do you?”
You clenched your jaw, unsure whether you should answer truthfully or not. Because if you lied, maybe it was a trap. He clearly held some disdain for the nearby village. Perhaps he’d been waiting to get his hands on one of its citizens so he could punish them for the crimes of their church accordingly. But, adversely, if you admitted the truth, he might be able to track you down back to the little log cabin your father had built out in the clearing on the edge of the woods, the village just a tiny collection of steepled roofs from down the slope.
So, instead of risking either outcome, you opted to answer with a question as well. “They were the ones who hurt you, weren’t they…?”
You found your hand leaving the safety of the weapon secured at your hip and slowly reaching up for his face, the darkened scars patching along his flesh beckoning your sympathies, begging to be tended to. All the while, images conjured from the darkest parts of your imagination depicted him crucified, flames licking at his feet before catching on his clothes and setting his body ablaze, his raspy voice breaking with a blood curdling cry.
You were surprised that he actually allowed you to touch him, your fingertips merely ghosting over the scars on his jaw, and then you asked him, your voice barely above a whisper “How old were you…?”
Dabi’s eyes nearly fluttered closed at your gentle touch yet he clasped his fist around your wrist, lowering it from his face, denying himself your silent sympathies as his eyes opened again, though they couldn’t meet yours as he answered, voice a little hoarse, “Sixteen…”
Your heart was breaking for him, the boy who’d been condemned as a monster and burned at the stake. He shouldn’t have survived— it was a mystery how he had— but he’d managed to get out alive, even if just barely.
“How did it happen?” you breathed, trying to blink away the mist of tears that welled in your eyes. “I mean, how did you become…”
Dabi let go of your wrist, flicked his gaze back to yours now. With his jaw set and glare steely, he clarified, “You mean how was I turned?” You nodded, chin quivering with both sorrow and fear.
But Dabi sighed then, his dangerous expression dropping back into something weary. He took a few strides over to the table, pulled out two chairs, sat in one, and nodded at the other. “Have a seat,” he offered— perhaps ordered. “It’s a long story. And you should be resting that injury anyway.”
You did as you were told, feeling relief upon sinking down into the chair that was surprisingly comfortable, despite the fact it looked like it was close to falling apart. Before he began, he asked you one last time if you actually wanted to hear the story, saying it wasn’t a pretty one, and you just nodded.
And he wasn’t kidding.
It was horrible.
Tragic.
Gruesome.
But amidst all the gorey details there was one crucial piece of the puzzle revealed. Dabi nodded at the fur lining your cloak, nose scrunching a little with distaste, and said, “I knew it was him the second I saw you. That fur… He was the only one who had a coat like that.”
You sat there, in shock and unable to read whether his disdain was more for you or the animal you were wearing around your neck.
Because, despite the fact that the creature that had damned him to this life and killed your only sibling was dead, Dabi still held him in some kind of high regard. Back when he’d been turned, the speckled wolf was all he’d had. It had been the only one like him, the only one who could understand his pain. So now, with the creator dead, what was the creation to do?
Perhaps become the creator himself, already having a candidate sitting pretty in one of his chairs, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
“You two were… friends?” you hesitated to ask, once again preparing to reach for your dagger.
“No,” Dabi scoffed, looking at you like you were stupid. “But after what he did to me, what choice did I have but to trust him? To do what he said?”
You were just about to tell him how sorry you were for that having happened to him— both with the turning and the town— but he cut you off with a slightly biting, “Don’t be. It is what it is…” He sighed, his ears twitching a bit and his blue eyes gaining a far away look, like if you gazed into them for long enough, you’d see the fragments of the memories rippling like coins shining from the bottom of a deep well. But then his smirk returned, even if it was still flickering with a little melancholy, and stated, “They created their own monster anyway. It’s them who’re still afraid of me, not the other way around.”
You supposed he had a point, even if it was still sad.
“So, you’ve lived out here in the woods all by yourself since then?” you asked, glancing around at his knick-knacks again, this time focusing on what appeared to have once been a child’s stuffed animal, a rabbit— once white— turned brown and grey with time and torment. One of its eyes was missing, the remaining black button slightly pulled free from its stitching. You wondered if any of these objects had once belonged to him, had been recovered from his human life, or if he’d had to start from scratch and pick up scraps just to make his house feel more like a home.
“Let’s not do this,” he replied, which caught you a little off guard. Your head snapped back to him, wearing a confused look.
“Do what?” you asked, a nervous smile tugging at one corner of your lips, gaining a terrible feeling that your time in his good graces was finally up.
“You know what,” he insisted with a bit of a sneer, giving you a look that was both exhausted and annoyed. “If you know what’s good for you,” he pointed one of his long, bony fingers lazily your way, “you’ll forget you even met me.”
You knew he was right— knew that the town might burn you at the stake for even mentioning having seen the wolfman, forget about having accompanied him to his house— but you also couldn’t help but be curious.
It wasn’t every day that you met a real, live myth. And a myth that might hold more answers to your brother’s death, if you could bear to hear them.
But before you could try and pry even the most trivial of answers from him, a loud growling erupted from you, both your hands instantly wrapping around your belly, your eyes going round with embarrassment.
By now, you would’ve eaten lunch and dinner, but you hadn’t stopped for your afternoon break on account of the fog and you’d lost your basket during the chase. If you’d made it to your grandmother’s house late and ended up staying over, as you often did when the sun set early in the winter, you and her would be sharing some homemade tomato bisque and dipping in soft chunks of bread torn off the loaves your mother had packed. 
So, in other words, you were starving.
You gave Dabi a guilty look, but before you could start to explain, he just waved off your worries and stood from the table, saying as he began to walk towards his cluttered kitchen, “Gimme a sec, I might have somethin’…”
He returned a few minutes later with some bread and jam. The bread was halfway to stale and the jam was hardly sweet, but you were too hungry to complain. Plus, just because he was being nice to you didn’t mean he still didn’t intend to do you harm later. Insulting his offering might just speed up any ill-intentions he had planned. And this would buy you time to think too, discover an escape route of some kind.
However, once you both had eaten your fill, night fully blanketed over the sky and the fog dissipated just enough to show a hazy orb of the nearly full moon glowing through the clouds, you asked him if what they said about full moons and monsters was true.
“The closer it gets to a full moon,” he explained, ears twitching a bit as if the mere confession of his affliction agitated him, “the closer I get to fully turning. Y’know…” he rolled his eyes and lazily swished his tail, “in case you couldn’t tell.”
Your hand twitched, wanting to brush your fingers over the fur lining your hood again, but you fought back the urge. The thought of the beast that had killed your brother once again flashed through your mind and you wondered how closely he’d resembled a human just a few days before. It raised a very important question in your mind then.
“Do you…” You gulped, trying to steady your shaking hands, your quivering voice. “Do you remember what you do… When you transform fully, I mean?”
Dabi slouched back in his chair a bit, admitting, “No… During full moons, we lose all our human memories, and when we wake up the next day, we can’t remember what we did as wolves either.” Then his ears perked up, curious. “Why?”
You asked him if he knew any others like him— others who’d been changed, could transform— and he said he didn’t, not since discovering the one who’d turned him was dead nearly a year now.
He could only assume that, on nights he fully transformed, he lurked and hunted and howled just like the other wolves that lived in these woods, the real wolves, that is. He then made a comment that perhaps he could be guilty of killing innocent women or children just the same as the wolf decorating your hood and he’d be none the wiser.
Needless to say, you didn’t much appreciate that bit of commentary.
You wanted to cry again. You wanted to hit him. You wished you’d let yourself draw your blade so you could drive the blade through his heart. Because even if he hadn’t been the wolf that had killed your brother, the fact that he knew that wolf— could one day be that wolf for someone else— was enough to rile up your need for revenge.
“And what?” you asked, your voice dripping with venom. “You just think you should be allowed to live this close to the town? To even exist at all, if you pose such a threat?”
Dabi’s eyes widened a bit then, a little shocked by your accusation, but clearly not as worried about your fist curling around the dagger’s hilt as you wished he would be.
“And where else do you suggest I go?” he taunted, grinning at your failure to do what you thought was the right thing— to take him out like any other hunter would, like your father should’ve raised you to do.
Only, you weren’t a hunter. Not even close.
In that moment, you were just a girl. A scared, weak little girl who couldn’t do the right thing, even if it meant sparing others from such a gut-wrenching fate.
“How did you find me?” you asked, the question half a demand. But then you rephrased your query, changing it to, “Why did you find me?”
“I smelled the food in your basket,” Dabi lied, boring his malicious stare into you until you backed off a little. But then that playfully mean streak swooped right back in as he added, “But once I saw you, well, guess I just couldn’t help myself.” Your scowl deepened but that only made him snicker. “No, but really. With that red cloak, you stood out even through the fog. You know a hunter could spot you from a mile away, right?”
“Well, yeah, that’s sort of the idea,” you corrected him, pure hatred in your tone. “The last thing I need is one of them mistaking me for a deer and shooting me dead.”
“Well with those doe eyes of yours I’d say it’s still an easy mistake to make.”
You froze, once again finding yourself unable to predict his intentions, you brows still slightly pinched but in a way that was more worry than rage now. His stare stayed steady, waiting for you to react in some kind of way.
You cleared your throat, feeling the nerves skittering around in the pit of your stomach.
You knew that look. Had seen it directed your way at least a dozen times on every one of the rare outings you made into the village to procure more provisions. It was half hungry, half arrogantly hopeful. You were used to averting your gaze though, hurrying past the men whose eyes trailed after you like hungry dogs salivating over a piece of meat. Though, with those piercing blues shining through the dark at you, even with the quickly rising terror, it was hard to look away from him.
“I…” Your voice cracked and you tried to swallow again, the lump in your throat only growing. “I think my ankle has probably had enough rest… I think I should get going, I—”
“Oh, c’mon,” Dabi said, rolling his eyes. He pushed up from his seat at the table, chair legs scuffing across the uneven wooden floors. He cocked his head at you, flashed those sharp white teeth, and said, “We both know you’re not going anywhere.”
***
Maybe the priests had been right.
Maybe demons really were real.
If they weren’t, then how had Dabi bewitched you into his arms so easily?
What had possessed you to let him kiss you, to not back away when he’d leaned in and pressed his rough, mismatched lips to your soft, trembling ones?
Even when he’d disarmed you, grabbed up your knife for the second time and slid it far out of reach across the kitchen table, why hadn’t you tried to pull away? Begged him to stop? Plead for mercy?
Maybe because your insides had twisted in a painfully sweet way when his big, slender hands had started tugging at the strings on your corset until it came undone, slipped up under your dress and touched you in places you’d never felt before, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin and your breath to hitch as the sensation traveled up your thighs, your hips, your stomach, your ribs.
Surely this must be the work of a devil, you thought, giving yourself to him so willingly as if he wasn’t going to use you and then do away with you like monsters were known to do. Because it felt too good, sinfully good, when he sucked dark bruises into your neck, nipping at your tender flesh with sharp incisors and chuckling darkly whenever he pulled one of those helplessly adorable whines from you.
“If only you knew how long I’ve waited for this…” you thought you heard him mutter as he pressed his nose into your hair again, savoring your scent like it was honeysuckle sweet. “How long it’s been…”
You thought maybe you ought to stop him before things went too far, his strong hands gripping you a little tighter, pulling you harder against him, settling you in his lap and making you squirm when you felt the hardness of his length pressing against your most intimate areas.
You tried to push against his shoulders, create a little distance between you two, but when you saw that feral desire burning in his eyes, you knew even if you asked— even if you begged— there was no way, not in any hell he’d come from, that he was going to listen.
“I…” Your voice broke, the confession stuck in your throat.
Dabi was hardly listening, too occupied with running his hands up and down your form, making you let out a startled squeak when he grabbed your ass, clearly enjoying the way you looked so shy— so embarrassed— at being in this situation, legs spread over his lap and throbbing little clit searching for any pressure, any relief, when you settled a little more over his growing erection.
“God, if you could see yourself right now…” he sighed, as if in awe, combing his fingers through your hair, smoothing it back from your burning face. “Fuckin’ beautiful… Gorgeous… Almost makes all these years of isolation worth it…”
He was working on trying to slip his fingers beneath your chemise, get to the parts of you hidden beyond all those undergarments, and you felt your heart leap into your throat.
“I… There’s something— I don’t think we should—” you’d tried to explain, but Dabi stopped you short as you let out another quiet, caught off guard gasp, his thumb once again finding the plush of your lower lip, mesmerized by your pretty little mouth whether you were speaking or silent.
He should’ve just kissed you again. That had gotten you to shut up and do what he wanted the first time.
“Oh, c’mon…” He gave you a disappointed look. “You really gonna deny me now that we’ve come this far? I mean, what?” he scoffed. “You’re not gonna sit here and tell me you’re a virgin, are you?”
Turns out you didn’t even have to answer that time. Your face turning beet red was enough to tell him he’d been right.
“Oh…” His expression morphed into that playful deviousness again, something only a little evil swimming beneath the surface. His smoky voice hummed out a note of amusement when you looked away, your body starting to tremble again. “Well, now ain’t that somethin’? I snag me a pretty girl and she’s a virgin? I guess that priest was wrong when he said I was goin’ ta hell, ‘cause I’d say this is as close to heaven as it gets.” You shot him a glare that you hoped was angry, but with the fresh tears misting in your eyes, knew looked more ashamed and scared than anything.
When you tried to shrug free of his grip, he held you still, not letting you budge more than an inch. He took your chin between his fingers, forced you to look at him as he asked, like it would make a difference, “What? You betrothed or somethin’? Savin’ yourself for marriage and all that? Like a good girl?”
“No,” you shot back with scorn, though you wished instantly maybe you’d made up something along those lines. “But that doesn’t mean I—”
You hated yourself for crying, suffocating on the sobs that you tried to swallow and stifle, and Dabi wiped away your tears with the rough pad of his calloused thumb, clicking his tongue and cooing at you. “Don’t worry…” he muttered. You met his eyes again, naively thinking maybe he’d let you go afterall. But when that greedy, dangerous glint reignited behind his glare, you knew you’d been wrong to assume. “I’ll make sure I go easy on you, at first.”
Suddenly, your position was shifted and Dabi was the one on top of you, pinning both your wrists above your head on his tattered, patchwork sofa, one knee between your thighs to nudge them further apart as they attempted to clench shut.
“Just be a good girl for me,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “Just be a good little lamb and I’ll treat ya real nice…”
You were just about to try and convince him that, if he let you go, returned you home safely, you’d find a way to cut a deal where you brought him weekly deliveries as well, maybe some freshly baked bread and homemade jam that was actually sweet, roast turkey, your mother’s delectable, spicy gingersnaps— anything he wanted, aside from yourself.
But Dabi was impatient, if anything. And after humans had tried to take so much from him, he was done waiting for them to give him anything.
Because why debate a deal when you were already holding the prize?
“Please—” you choked out, your last resort at trying to garner any of his sympathy, if he were capable of such an emotion. “Just… Please just be careful. I— Please don’t hurt me…”
Dabi smiled then. A real smile, not one of his crooked, malicious smirks. He lightly brushed the back of his knuckles along your jaw, admiring how soft you were, how perfect, how pretty, how delicately human. “Don’t worry, doll…” he murmured, nudging your knees a little further apart, though that time, you didn’t try to resist as much. “I’m not the one you need to be afraid of.”
With one fist still securing both your wrists above your head, he used his free hand to tug down the neckline of your dress until your breasts were exposed to him, the light of the fireplace dancing over your bare skin and turning it gold in the dim light. You let out a shuddering exhale, never having felt so vulnerable in your entire life, and instinctively took a try at pulling your hands free from his grip, but his hold on you only tightened.
You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a whimper, tits bouncing a little with every panting breath, the anticipation searing through you like a red hot branding iron, making you jolt.
You expected him to be rough with you regardless of your pleas and his promises, so you were surprised when he lightly brushed his thumb over the sensitive bud of your nipple, watched it harden from the teasing ministration, only edged on by the way you mewled at the sensation of it, even if it was partially against your own will.
After he pinched and rolled the bud between his rough fingers, causing you to arch up into his touch, he pulled your dress further down to expose more of your torso to him, taking in each new inch of your skin that he saw like it was holier than the last, his mouth beginning to water, his cock aching with how hard it was straining against his trousers.
“I’ll tell ya what…” Dabi muttered, his voice right beside your ear while he stripped you of your dress, tugging down your chemise along with it, tossing them to the floor where your cloak and corset already lay. “Whoever you do end up marrying… He’s gonna be one lucky bastard.”
You were about to snap out some begrudged response to that, but lost your confidence when his mouth latched onto one of your breasts, his tongue laving around the pebbled bud to further tease you— further torture you.
You were trying to stay quiet, as if every single sound of pleasure that escaped you was admittance to defeat, but it was hard when he was so skilled at making you melt, as if he already knew exactly what made you tick.
You bit your tongue and whimpered when he nibbled at you, heat spreading across your skin when you felt his hand cupping your sex, one of his fingers gliding across your slit, spreading you further open, your arousal making you slick and warm for him.
“Come on now…” he half chuckled, half growled, lifting his head only enough to meet your eyes. He gripped your cheeks between his fingers, squished them in his hand, forcing your lips open just a little bit. “None ‘a that… I wanna hear you.”
Then, unexpectedly, he slipped a finger into your tight, fluttering hole, curling it inside you knuckle deep, and when you let out the most delicious little moan, he swallowed the end of your pleasure with another kiss, his tongue working its way into your open mouth.
“That’s it…” he muttered, his lips still against yours, drinking in as much of you as he could. “Keep on doin’ that for me… Just like that… Such a good girl…”
Not daring to defy him, you didn’t try to mute your mewls and moans any longer, crying out in a way you’d never heard yourself sound before when he slipped in a second finger, slowly beginning to pump in and out of you while his thumb massaged firm circles against your swollen little bundle of nerves, more of your slick dripping into the palm of his hand.
“S-stop—” you choked out, wincing at the sting of his fingers scissoring you open wider, trying to arch away from his touch while your cunt only sucked him in further. “P-please— ‘S too much!”
But Dabi wouldn’t relent, could tell by the way your breathing became erratic, your stomach muscles tensed and your legs began to stiffen that you were getting close, just from his fingers alone. With an unamused drone, he replied, “I think we both know you don’t want me to stop, doll. At least, not yet…”
And the worst part was, he was right.
Because it felt so good. And you were so close. And you were starting to fear that you’d purposefully stray from the path again the next time you had to make a delivery, just to chance running into him again.
When your orgasm finally washed over you, Dabi worked you through it, letting the high linger as he kept collecting your arousal, spreading it around to keep you slick for him, continuing to tease you until you were all worked up again.
But he’d done you enough favors already— more favors than he’d originally intended to— and it was his turn to take what he wanted. And how could you blame him? When he could’ve just taken you in the middle of that foggy forest clearing and killed you afterwards, he’d made things nice for you— even made you dinner, if stale bread and barely sweety jam could be considered as such— and was even planning on releasing you once all was said and done, how could you blame him for taking a little something for himself?
“God…” he sighed as he pulled his aching cock free from the constraints of his trousers, the tip blushing red and already leaking copious amounts of pre-cum. He gave himself a few languid strokes, hissing a little and already imagining how good it would feel once he was inside you.
You were staring at him— at it— with wide, terror filled eyes, unable to tear your startled gaze from his length until he was settling back over you, forcing your thighs further apart.
“C’mon…” he urged, taking your chin gently in his fingers, lifting your gaze to meet his glowing sapphires again, a faint attempt to put you at ease. With his voice fading into what, for him, was supposed to be a soothing coo, he said, “I made ya feel good the first time, right? Well this is only gonna make it better. Just trust me…”
As he stripped himself of his remaining clothes, leaving the black fabric in piles before the fireplace to tangle with your pieces of white and red, you thought to yourself how you weren’t so sure about that.
You’d never seen your own anatomy in that way— never even seen a picture or a drawing, since any books containing such vulgar images were confiscated by the church— but you were pretty sure, given by how just the intrusion of his fingers had stung, that a cock as girthy and long as his wasn’t going to hurt any less.
As he began to line himself up with you, you went to grab his wrist, as if you had even half the amount of strength it would take to fend him off, and he quickly flicked his wrist to turn and take hold of your own, capturing you once again. But you didn’t try to fight. You just looked at him through your lashes, almost as if you were guilty of something and had just been caught in the act.
“Just… go slow, ok?” you whined, a pout pulling at the corners of your pretty little lips.
Dabi flashed a wolfish grin, the points of his incisors catching the amber firelight and reminding you that he wasn’t quite human, as if the ears perked forward amidst all that spiky black hair and the fluffy tail swishing— dare you consider it wagging— eagerly behind him wasn’t reminder enough.
He let go of your wrist, stroked your cheek in a way that, if not for his nature, might’ve been considered loving, and promised to take good care of you.
And that time, your better judgment be damned, you believed him.
So you lay back for him, surrendering yourself fully to the beast, and tried not to push him away when you felt his velvety tip nudge at your tight little entrance.
But he abided by his promise— went slow with you— the best that he could.
As much as he wanted to sink into you with one harsh thrust, fist wrapped around your neck to feel the cry of pain vibrate through your throat, sharp teeth biting down into your tender, unclaimed flesh, he didn’t.
He tried to call upon his past humanity, think to himself that, maybe, in another life— one where he’d never been turned into a monster and condemned for a title that had been forced upon him— he would’ve met you weaving your way among the village crowds, that wicker basket slung over your arm. Maybe you would’ve given him a smile and wave when you saw him perched at the corner. Maybe he would’ve been the one to ask for your hand, gotten to have you like this in the way that you’d probably envisioned.
Back before he’d been branded by these scars, disfigured to resemble an animal that was loathed by the townsfolk and the church and the hunters alike.
Back before he’d been imprisoned by a life of isolation and solitude, cursed to roam between the pines until an unsuspecting, yet perhaps easily coerced, traveler crossed his path.
Carefully, Dabi rolled his hips into yours a little further, feeling you wince as he sunk in a few more inches, your body already constricting tight around him and making him wonder just how long he would last. He let out a stifled groan, his attention shifting to where his fingers were interlocked with yours, pressing your delicate little hands into the cushions of the couch, not recollecting having granted you such means of intimacy and comfort yet unable to pull away.
“Hurts—” you whimpered, fingers flexing against his scarred hands as you shifted a little, hoping to find a more comfortable position.
Dabi tried not to feel too guilty when he ignored your plea, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder so he could settle in even deeper. You squeezed his hand tighter, little nails biting into his skin, and let out a pained whimper as yet another inch of him carved out a home inside you.
By ways of feeble comfort, the wolf in him nuzzled his cheek against yours, his forehead coming to rest in the crook of your neck until he was fully inside, stilling himself for a moment as you adjusted to the stretch of him. He pressed gentle kisses along your shoulder, one for every shuddering exhale you breathed out through your stifled sobs.
“That’s it…” he tried to praise you, raspy voice a mere whisper. “That’s a good girl…”
He started moving then, keeping you close to him, trading body heat with you like, after this, he’d be damned to an eternity of biting winds and freezing nights, and endless autumn fighting to frost over his bones until his corpse was reclaimed by the earth.
And, god, you felt heavenly, angelic little mewls mixing with the rhythmic slap of skin on skin, the crackling of the fireplace, his thrusts picking up speed and that low growl vibrating in his chest.
Right on the edge of your next release, Dabi pulled out of you, repositioned you to lean over one arm of the couch, most of your weight resting on your elbows as he gripped your hips and pulled your ass closer to him, causing you to arch your back and let out a worried little whimper.
But that time, when Dabi nudged his tip back into your leaking little hole, it didn’t sting nearly as much, to your relief. He nestled inside you with a little more ease, stroking a hand down your spine and making you tremble as he began again with the slow, rhythmic, rolling of his hips.
You felt the pleasure tingling through your body, blood feeling heavier in your veins every time the curve of his cock nudged a sweet spot deep inside of you.
But before long, his thrusts regained their previous vigor, pounding into you until you were crying out and your cunt was clenching down on his cock, your silky walls forcing a long, low groan from him as he filled you with hot, sticky cum— so much of it your belly felt heavy with it by the time his cock stopped twitching inside of you and started to soften.
Even then he remained inside you, greedy for your warmth, draping himself over your back, his scarred chest blanketing your helpless little body, not so much caging you against the couch as simply resting with you there.
You didn’t try to shrug him off, not only because you didn’t have the strength, but because you liked his warmth too. It was different from yours. Yours was like the glowing embers of a dying flame, still hot enough to feel with yours hands hovering over it but not enough to burn. His was like a humid day in summer, the heat radiating off of him, touching everything around it, an inescapable, smothering kind of warmth.
Eventually, when you were just beginning to doze off, Dabi lifted his body from yours and pulled out of you, leaving you feeling empty and uncomfortable, cold air rushing in to latch onto your sweat sheened form.
“At least this still feels the same as when I was human…” you thought you heard him mutter, your consciousness slipping a little further. He gently turned you onto your back, brushed some of your tousled hair from your forehead, tiny strands sticking to your temples.
With all your senses dulling, the pleasure lulling you into a deep, sated sleep, his voice began to sound far off, a mere muffled echo of that smoky tone even as he lifted you into his arms and began to carry you upstairs.
“‘S shame though…” Dabi spoke softly, now only to himself. “Cause I have to let you go…”
He lay you across his makeshift bed, the bundle of old, frayed blankets stolen from nearby hunting camps, and just stood and watched you taking in slow, deep breaths, so pretty, whether you were running from him or fighting him or fucking him, falling asleep afterwards.
He didn’t really want to let you go. If he wanted to, he could keep you. It wouldn’t be hard, not when he’d also procured several chains and shackles used by the hunters to keep their hounds secured to the posts when they were waiting out a herd.
But if someone like you went missing, people would be sure to notice. The last thing he needed was to give the church a real reason to come looking for the one demon they couldn’t condemn. Besides, he could still track you, follow your scent back to your cabin and wait out your next delivery, coax you off the path and maybe even convince you to accompany him back to his secluded little place between the pines.
For now, though…
For now, Dabi just curled up beside you, nudging his nose against the softness of your skin and hoping for dreams of a time when maybe he could’ve stayed a man instead of turning into a monster.
***
The following morning, as day broke over the forest, thin rays of light slipping through the cracks in the trees and climbing up to the dewey windowsills, you stirred.
You felt something soft tickling your skin, blinking open your bleary eyes to see Dabi’s fluffy black tail draped over your legs from where he lay next to you, splayed out on his stomach with his face half hidden in a pillow and still sound asleep.
A strange part of you was tempted to reach over, scratch behind his pointed ears like you sometimes did with the stray dogs of the village who weren’t too afraid to approach you, but caught yourself and silently retracted.
The weight of last night quickly returned to you as you shifted and moved to sit on the edge of his bed, a distinct ache pulsing between your legs as you searched for your clothes, remembering they were downstairs by the fireplace before tiptoeing down the creaking stairs to gather them and slipping off to a more private part of the cabin to redress, fastening the red cloak back over your shoulders and trying not to dwell on the fact that you’d just done something that could never be undone.
You glanced behind you at the stairs, gaze following them back upwards to where you could just barely see the bedroom door left slightly ajar, your traitorous sympathy causing you to almost regret leaving him like this— leaving him all alone for who knows how long. But what choice did you have?
You grabbed up your dagger, which was still on the kitchen table, wincing as the old floorboards whined under your feet, and carefully crossed the room to the front door.
You only made it ten feet from the cabin’s entrance before you heard his smoky voice call out behind you, causing you to turn and see him leaning crooked in the doorway, “If you wanna get back to the main path,” he instructed, pointing a finger in the direction opposite you were currently headed, “you’re gonna wanna go that way.”
You hesitated, gaze flicking from him to the vast expanse of forest in the direction he was guiding you, wondering if he were telling the truth or not.
“Don’t worry,” he assured you, waving a hand at your worry. “Just go straight that way and you’ll find it, but I’ll warn ya…” You met his eyes then, catching that glowing sapphire gaze narrowing into something preparatory once more. “If I catch you in my territory again,” he teased, “I might just decide to keep you as my pet.”
With that, you simply swallowed, gave a nervous nod, and went on your way.
By the time you made it back to the main path, it was late morning. The fog had cleared, and you were beginning to recognize your surroundings.
It would only be a few more hours until you reached home.
In the meantime, you worked on coming up with a believable enough story to cover up what had really happened. But you knew one thing for sure…
You were going to remember the infamous wolfman— the one with entrancing cerulean eyes and inky black hair and all those scars— who lurked those woods for the rest of your life. And, for better or for worse, it was a myth you were going to take to your grave.
***
(Aaaaaaahh!! Sorry this turned out so long! I sort of ended up abandoning my outline and just going more stream of consciousness halfway through, but I’m pretty satisfied with how it turned out :)
also sorry for getting carried away with the lore lol
Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed and have a wonderful halloween!
Thanks for reading! <3)
((Part 2))
350 notes · View notes
skunkes · 5 months
Text
finally found a better way to word my issues with art improvement and thats that obviously art with no ref is/can be a little incorrect and misguided, there are Mistakes when you're just going off of memory.
But when i do studies my art becomes too Rigid because my brain remembers the studies and yells at me if i dont proportion things "correctly" (+ also ends up Bad due to overworking to "Fix" it)...
Its hawrd to find that balance, + have it be the Loose and Fun art that comes before reminding self what something is "supposed to look like". I feel my stuff only exists between extreme ends of sloppy and rigid bc i cant find the balance
Ive seen a few very old drawings from before I started using refs more often and they almost look Better. They dont look 100% Right but they look Good. Now I overwork everything bc it doesnt look Right and it still ends up not looking Right or Good.
37 notes · View notes
jrueships · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media
this is so gay
24 notes · View notes
daz4i · 7 months
Text
i really truly genuinely cannot go one (1) day without wanting to die
18 notes · View notes
skeletalheartattack · 9 months
Note
theres another member of zarbons species in the moro arc of dragon ball super! he transforms into a differentmonster form than zarbon
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Yuzun! i know him! or well, i kinda know him. i'm not really caught up or invested in anything Dragon Ball related beyond Buu Saga, but i've learned somewhat about him.
i think he's pretty neat! and i'm really happy they expanded Zarbons race just a little bit with Yuzun. though you hate to hear how he went out... there's no peace for my mans race. i hate this solar system. fuuuck.
#ask#shelbybunny#i like his design :) although its really hard to top zarbon's.............. <- sorry just those combinations of words turned off his brain.#understand okay?#i think his monster form is cool! idk if id be as weird about his monster form as i am with Zarbons :) but i like him#i dont know if Super would have this part in the anime... idk anything about super... but i imagine Yuzun having a surfer dudes voice#kinda like yajirobe's voice yknow#atleast that was always my first impression. though i guess i could see a similar regal voice coming from him#though ogh those wrist bands. i dont think anything for me could top Zarbons arm warmers#Zarbons arm warmers have always stuck out in my brain as like one of my favourite details.#literally would love to have some like... thick pink nylon arm warmers. thats how ive always imagined Zarbons to be#or a fabric similar to nylon. that smooth soft fabric yknow. that good shit.#i think if i wore those my brain would turn off because id be stimming those shits.#anyway :) yuzuns really neat. continuously happy knowing theres more of his race than just Zarbon#fuck frieza girlies. there'd be so much more of Zarbons race if it werent for that bitch bastard.#i'll never get behind the frieza zarbon dynamic. ive always kinda seen zarbon as being afraid of frieza#like its more obvious near his last few episodes in the show but. ugh man.#i believe what zarbon said in his final moments of saying he'd turn to vegetas side and go against frieza.#then that little bitch put a hole in him. horrible horrible. hate on planet namek.#anyway! thank you for the ask :) i appreciate getting to talk about Yuzun a little bit
22 notes · View notes
jaded-ghoster · 9 months
Text
Take a moment to appreciate that Fuyumi Todoroki is a total nerd. She’s a wholesome elementary school teacher who likes cooking, ice cream, and soap operas and she’s a total nerd. Now picture her face next to the biological abomination that is her father.
18 notes · View notes
elytrafemme · 7 months
Text
why doesn't anybody talk about schrodinger's mental illness? seriously i think i'm onto something here
#nightmare.personal#i'm starting to think i'm over it like#i've been so happy lately and i'm having these weird nightmares about my family for no reason but like#i have FRIENDS and i'm taking CARE OF MYSELF and like i thought i looked super pretty today#but i am freaking out a bit about how nice this one friend of mine is being to me#which is so weird bc he'/s like the safest guy to be around ever but suddenly i feel insanely unsafe#hm. maybe i'll be fixed if i go to bed#ugh i have classes tmrw which are FINE classes but like. work. and then also therapy#and therapy's good just like. ugh. Ugh. maybe i'll talk to her about me hating my gf's mom's profession and my moral crisis#bc guys it's kind of awkward i really don't fuck with landlords but my gf's mom is um . Kind of one of those#anyway i think i'm better honestly like the klavier and dahlia stuff is starting to just feel like an inside joke#something earlier happened and i was like klav would like this. andi pictured him a bit in my brain as how he looked#and like. we laughed. but i don't think he was there at all#and the BPD stuff isn't happening like i've not mood swung at all lately i don't think#so maybe it was all in my head andi'm fine now? that could be it honestly like. i'm fine. which!#is weird and abrupt but hey i'm into it. y'know. whatever#it would kind of suck if it turns out i was perfectly fine i was just overthinking it but. hey#honestly whatever. people are fine i'm fine i'm safe and the nightmares are stupid#i need to see this guy anyway tmrw because i invited him along to grab breakfast with me and our mutual friend#we're like a trio so i figure it's fine. hopefully the dining hall isn't still on fire i need to fuck up that pomegranate acai drink so bad#it's SO good you guys. but like. idk. i feel happy like perfectly happy. like i don't think much is wrong#these weird feelings of dread and hovering on the edges of panic attacks sometimes but that's really it#ugh. i hope the lecture hall has good chairs#sorry i cannot focus on this i'm restless rn. i need. like. something#i think me and my GF might break up soon bc of the parents work and the sex thing but like.#someone lobotomize me i'm literally fine what's going ONNNN
9 notes · View notes
donghyuckkies · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
220403 han jisung - maniac
232 notes · View notes