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He’d like to think that this isn’t the person he fell in love with.

He’d like to think that he fell in love with a different you. 

Because there was another you; there had to be. There was the person who curled up in his arms at night, who wore his jersey, spinning around so the sleeves (because they were always a little long for you) swung and so everyone could see the number 5 on your back. The person who blushed at the pick up lines he repeated, who slurped up the noodles from his udon bowl as he tried to shelter it from those prying chopsticks. The person who hid their face in his chest, close enough he could feel their tears on his shirt, murmuring, “please never leave me, Yoshicchi, please never leave me.”

It was a different person, right? The one he replied to with, “I’ll never even look away from you.”

He’s not looking away now, that’s for sure, whilst you’re angling his chin to meet your eyes, purring that he’s so pretty when he blushes, almost trapping his irises in yours, as if trying to drag his gaze away from the streaks of crimson across your collarbones, and the darker red-brown on your hands. And the body in the corner - old enough that it has stiffened, that the skin is starting to marble in distinct purples. It’s looks nothing like his brother now.

“Yoshicchi,” you whisper now, (and, suddenly, he feels like the one who’s small, who curls up in other people’s arms, who cries into their chest; if you let go of him now, he’ll certainly crumple to your feet), “say it again. Say that you’ll never leave me.”

He drops his head. His mouth stays shut.

Your nails stab into his chin a little more forcibly. He can feel where the blood has crusted on your fingertips.

And finally, he mutters, “I’ll never leave you.” 

So you release him, and he collapses to the ground just as he predicted, and he can’t look in his brother’s direction - he can’t look anywhere but at you - as you press a kiss to his nose. Your touch is almost maternal.

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It’s almost sensual - this rhythmic chewing.

He likes the way his teeth squeeze against the flesh - his flesh, unfortunately or not, everyone else seems disgusted when he asks for their support (why? it’s just their body - isn’t that what sex is all about too, giving someone else your body). He likes the softness on the inside of his cheeks, softer than the skin of a child, and how the saliva almost catches his finger, how it trails down his nail.

And, more than that, he loves the feeling of the old scars on the inside of his mouth, how he can squeeze down on their little bumps, how blood drips out, like pus from a pimple. And he swirls his tongue around the blood, and the sickening sweetness of its forbidden taste, sometimes, he lets the blood on his lip drip down onto his chin, so he can watch himself lick it up in the mirror, how it makes his tongue just a little bit darker.

But the mouth, glorious warm hole it is, isn’t enough when he gets hungry. It’s really is just like gum; it’s entertaining, it’s something to do, but it’s not filling in the evenings. And something about the saliva dulls the pain, even when his canines have sank all the way into his lip.

So the next step is his fingers, tugging at a hangnail till he’s ripped a thin piece of skin off the side of his thumb, and he keeps pulling at it - shivering from the pain, his spine arching, addicted to the release that only comes with suffering - till the end thins. It slips off onto his palm, lying there alluring naked, only dressed in the drool from his mouth. He can’t leave it there, all alone, can he - battling the coolness of the air on its own? His tongue slurps it up. He feels this anomaly rest on the side of his mouth. He chews it softly, in a trance. He almost purrs. 

And then it too slips down his throat.

The good news is that Hara’s 6’2. There’s more than enough of him to go around.

And he reminds himself of this often. When he’s nuzzling the undersides of his arms, where the skin is thinnest, where it’s soft and untampered and rich with the scent of himself; when he’s running a knife down the edges of his neck, wondering just how much he could snip off before someone noticed (it’s a shame his teeth can’t reach. There’s something so pleasurable about biting the skin off; it’s just so much more authentic); when he’s letting his tongue slither down the veins of his wrist, how the sensation lingers, as if his blood knows he won’t let it rest.

For, why would he?

Not when he’s so thrilling sweet.

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haruuuuu!!! ty for the ask <33

He had to find a way to bond with this boy. It wasn’t going to be easy convincing him to help Roy get back home, and buttering him up might help. Also, he was Roy’s son and Roy should probably try to be a good father when he could, right? 

Roy didn’t think Riza would like the order in which those thoughts came.

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thank u for the ask awaaa

They’re made of the same steel, at the end of it all. Dual blades destined to be wielded together. Yukio’s sword called to Shun’s, and so they met in the middle, in a battlefield where sparks flew and they clashed. Again and again with the force of raging waves, until their wielders became one and they did too.

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Day 14: Favorite Member of Kaijo - Kise Ryouta 😍💛

Oh my boy,Kaijō no Kise…😭

He is the strongest player. But in order to preserve Aomine’s stamina, he sacrifices his own😭😭 he is too good 😭

He is playful, cheerful, and seems easy going. But in fact he knows who he is, he knows his skills and he knows his own worth. Fujimaki san says: “Kise is a person who only affable to those he admitted & feel worthy after measuring with his own eyes. Other than that, he is usually cold-hearted. I’ve recognized him who has two faces. He is not completely good-boy, you know.”

I’m just mesmerized

But I also want to include players, who are not GoM. Cause we all love them and for most of us they are the most favorite players of their teams. And it would be quite unfair. Soooo…


Kasamatsu senpai also owns (part of) my heart😂

He is the best captain, I think. He is responsible, motivated and he trusts his teammates wholeheartedly. And I really admire him cause he wasn’t affected that much by the fact that Kise is one of legen…wait for it…dary GoM. Ofc he knew about Ryōta’s abilities and he knew that he is the best player of Kaijō. But those are not the reasons to cut him some slack and ignore his inappropriate behavior (like in Too, but I like them too😭😂) “I’ll tell you what’s so great about it. Before you even factor in being good or bad, this is Kaijō High School’s Basketball Club. It’s not because we were born earlier. The second and third years here have been working hard on this team longer than you have. I’m telling you to have respect for that experience. Doesn’t matter if you’re from the “Generation of Miracles” or anything else. You’re now a freshmen at Kaijō. And I’m a senior here, the captain, Yukio Kasamatsu. Got any complaints?”

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