#onichuu

Dazai twisted on top of the branch he was perched on. The forest held its breath in an expectant silence, while the kitsune played with fire.

He gulped, feeling his throat suddenly dry, and his vision sharpened, not missing a single detail of what was unfolding below.

The oni—there was no doubt, the stench was unmistakable, and the horns left no room for confusion—was drawing closer, about to fall into the trap. But Dazai couldn’t move, let alone invoke his magic. His eyes remained locked on the exposed muscles of the creature. The tattoos that marked his skin called to Dazai like a moth to flame, and he wondered, digging his claws into the bark and leaning toward the edge, if he could have a little more fun before devouring him.

The oni lifted his head, his misty blue eyes narrowing into two sharp slits, a storm of torment contained within them.

"I’ve caught you."

Dazai’s lips curled into an inviting smile before he snapped his fingers.

"Are you sure?"

Hopefully this gets the fingies typing! Your word is: Flatline

The little soul gem cut through the darkness—glowing almost too bright for him to withstand—a dreadful guiding light to reclaiming what had once been his and now fell into the hands (no, mouth) of what should be his enemy.

He chased after it. Trampled flowers. Sent fireflies scattering. Chuuya stuck his tongue out with the gem on it, a taunt for Dazai to come and get it if he dared.

To take back what he willingly surrendered under the promise of being liberated from this eternal life once and for all.

Yōkai made no promises. Certainly not beneficial ones.

If he could not tempt even an oni to absorb his power and kill him, then he had no choice but to try and get rid of his soul himself. Dazai stumbled and almost fell as he desperately reached for it—the only light he had in this world—and it was gone in an instant, licked over and seized between fangs. One bite would shatter it and him into a thousand pieces for every year on this earth he had lived.

He staggered and fell to his knees, clutching his chest over his heart where a void had opened up. It slowed down, sped up, skipped a beat, paused for a few. All signs it was about to give out and flatline.

His breathing grew uneven.

He hadn’t felt anything since being separated from his soul, and now he felt everything all at once assaulting his mind and body as Chuuya played with his soul like a toy, grazing his teeth along it and holding it up with two fingers to admire its blue halo illuminating the earth around them, his sly smirk, and Dazai’s own panicked expression.

✨️ Chin ✨️

If it made you awkward, you didn’t have to do it! But thank you anyway!

His claws gently cradled his chin, guiding his gaze. The kitsune looked enthralled by his nervousness, if the playful glint in his crimson eyes meant anything. Damn cunning bastard. Chuuya couldn’t touch him—not yet. His hands were bound behind his back, and a gag kept him from baring his fangs. He was starving. The kitsune loomed over him, his tails flicking and curling behind him. They were everywhere—too soft, too fluffy. Chuuya growled a warning, tugging at his restraints. This stupid game they were trapped in. Desire, hunger… the line blurred with each night they shared, and time was running out. Dazai kissed his chin and trailed down to his throat. Chuuya held his breath. He didn’t bite, didn’t break the skin. Not today, either.