[fuda_100FIC]" Yami no Matsuei" -- "Real Monsters" (Rating: R)
Suddenly I'm feeling cruddy and uninspired, thanks to *that* time of the month. When that happens, it's a good time to reach for the longhand drafted but untyped fics that are sitting in my notebooks. So if there's a sudden explosion of ficcage... that's where it all came from.
Written for fuda_100's challenge "What Lies in the Dark"
WARNING: Contains molestation/incest and homophobia. This fic involves a teenaged Muraki and his half-brother Saki, whose arrival into his life gets described by an adult Muraki as "the day the devil came into my house". When Muraki calls someone a devil, they definitely had to have done something awful to deserve it (funny that he ends up as a worse monster than his half-brother...).
Kazutaka hated sleeping in the darkness, even at age fifteen.
As a child of six, he dreaded the monsters he thought were hiding in the closet, figments easily banished by a nightlight's glow.
Now the monster had taken on flesh, and rather than creeping from the closet to eat him, it crept from the room across the hallway from his, and sat on the edge of the bed. Instead of wrapping feelers around his ankle to drag him out, it slipped a hand under the covers, finding the inside of his thigh. Instead of chilling him with its icy breath, it leaned over to chill him with words:
"Is this what you like, you pale faggot? Is this what you like because you can't get it up for a girl, like a real man?"
Written for fuda_100's challenge "What Lies in the Dark"
WARNING: Contains molestation/incest and homophobia. This fic involves a teenaged Muraki and his half-brother Saki, whose arrival into his life gets described by an adult Muraki as "the day the devil came into my house". When Muraki calls someone a devil, they definitely had to have done something awful to deserve it (funny that he ends up as a worse monster than his half-brother...).
Kazutaka hated sleeping in the darkness, even at age fifteen.
As a child of six, he dreaded the monsters he thought were hiding in the closet, figments easily banished by a nightlight's glow.
Now the monster had taken on flesh, and rather than creeping from the closet to eat him, it crept from the room across the hallway from his, and sat on the edge of the bed. Instead of wrapping feelers around his ankle to drag him out, it slipped a hand under the covers, finding the inside of his thigh. Instead of chilling him with its icy breath, it leaned over to chill him with words:
"Is this what you like, you pale faggot? Is this what you like because you can't get it up for a girl, like a real man?"