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violetsoju · 3 years

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whispers in the dark

akaashi keiji · fluff · 2.6k

summary: they say late night conversations bring out the raw and honest side of people. there's always new discoveries in these deep and intimate conversations, when the heart takes over the mind. what will you discover today?

a/n: i apologise in advance for the terrible wordplays made :'))) here's my piece for the the collab w my fellow lovely sea writers! do check them out for your daily doze of sweetness ♡

You wonder how long you’ve been staring at the microwave on the kitchen countertop.

It’s in the middle of the night, where the living should be asleep and the dead alive.

Well, technically speaking, you’re pretty much alive physically, but pretty much dead mentally. So it pretty much makes sense to why you’re awake at this hour.

The kitchen is dark, faint moonlight glow seeping into the dimly lit space. Your eyes have adjusted to the silhouette of the 10x10 kitchen, scanning the surroundings like a night vision camera, alas an out of focus one.

Clean and dry dishes stack against each other like jenga, astonishingly keeping its balance in place. Stacks of unopened letters flood the side of the dining table. Fresh laundry on the hanging rack has now turned into the breeding ground of bacteria and mould, calling for a re-wash.

They all scream to be attended to, but gravity has a stronger grip on you, and you give in to it spinelessly. The mess before your eyes are much more entertaining than the blinding laptop screen back in the mess of your room.

Something flickers in the corner of your eyes. You blink, and it’s gone. The usual weak hearted you would scare the shit out of yourself, scurrying back to the safe harbour of your blankets. Guess it’s one of those days where you just can’t give a damn about anything.

But your ears prick up at the shuffling noises that becomes more distinct with each passing second. You blink again, and this time, a black figure looms right before your eyes. It doesn’t disappear after a couple more blinks, and after what seems like a decade, your brain finally connects the dots and sends a signal to your motor systems.

A high-pitched scream screeches in the four walls of your small apartment.

“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me, Keiji.”

The black figure, aka Akaashi turns his head sideways slightly, showing his side profile that’s symmetrically perfect on both sides.

“I thought you were aware of me walking in. You were staring straight ahead.” He fumbles to find a mug amidst the pile of dishes on the dishrack in the dark.

You massage your temple with your thumb, heaving out a long sigh. “I was blanking out. Don’t have the energy to fixate on anything.”

“Not even me?”

“You’re an exception.”

The gentle smiles tugging two lips make the small space a tad little warmer.

A mug finally in hand, Akaashi stumbles onto the array of glass containers arranged neatly in the metal-rimmed organiser next. It’s as if his hands are his eyes, because he pops open the lid of the coffee container instantly, rich aromatic coffee beans swept in the air.

“Keiji, no.”

This time he turns fully to face you. “What?”

“No coffee.”

A spoonful of coffee beans finds its way into his mug. “Why not?”

“It’s bloody 3 in the morning. You’re not supposed to be drinking coffee at this hour.” You reason, nodding towards the time displayed on the microwave.

He peers towards your mug. “What are you drinking then?”

“Hot chocolate. With some marshmallows in it.” You scoop a now soaked marshmallow up to show him.

“Have your coffee in the morning. At a normal time.”

“It’s already morning. Just a few hours earlier than usual.” His eyes are on yours, but you don’t miss the way his hands sneakily reach out to the coffee grinder.

“Keiji.”

Akaashi chuckles at your drop in tone, knowing better than to push your buttons further, especially with your rationality and sanity tipping over the line at any time. “Fine,” he surrenders, hands up in the air, “Hot chocolate it is.”

He finds it cute how your sleep lidded eyes turn into sharp laser beams with a snap of fingers, and back into one that struggles to keep them open in the next.

With a few clinks here and there, a hot mug of hot chocolate topped with marshmallows sit in front of you, along with a boy who has, and owns your heart.

Akaashi’s dishevelled hair that sticks in all the wrong places reminds you of a certain friend of his. A fleece blanket drapes over his shoulders, making his frame smaller than usual. His black rimmed glasses sit securely on his nose bridge, thick lenses casting a shadow over his eyes, accentuating his outrageous eyebags even more. Fine facial hair worth several days of scruff peeps out under the absence of the sharp razors. You were about to ask if he lost the lip balm you gave him because of his slightly chapped lips, but maybe it was the shadows in the dark that were playing with your field of vision, creased lines seem to gradually etch into his forehead from hours of intense focus, his usual glow obscured by the heavy dark clouds drowning him a whole.

But the gentle warmth in his eyes that shimmered since day one still radiates like a cosy fireplace, as comforting as ever.

“What are you staring at?” You ask.

“You.” A short and concise answer.

The chilly air of late Autumn sinking its teeth into your skin is expelled by the human radiator across you. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about when was the last time I’ve actually sat down like this together with you. Or when was the last time I’ve looked at you properly with no distractions.”

The both of you live under the same roof, just a door apart from each other, a call away from each other. But the never-ending workload and hectic week lined up with deadlines after deadlines has robbed away the basic and simple pleasures in life.

Simple pleasures like sharing a hot pot of coffee together before work every morning. Simple pleasures like snuggling against each other covered in warm blankets, looking out at the night sky that never seems to sleep, heads resting against each other. Simple pleasures like saying “good morning” or “good night” to each other, with a soft peck on the lips.

Working from home should mean more time spent together, at each other’s side. Using the time saved from ironing wrinkled work clothes and making oneself presentable in the early wee hours on turning the video filter on in video meeting software, slapping a blazer over comfy house clothes, making fresh home-cooked meals that warm the stomach. Maybe even slacking a little without guilt. It all sounds like the perfect plan.

But fairy tales aren’t real for a reason.

Work isn’t a spectacular ball where you dance the night away dressed in sequins and silk with ease. Bosses aren’t fairy godmothers who pick you up with grace and kindness when you fall, guiding you towards the right path.

In this world called reality, work is a bloodshed battlefield. Bosses are commanders that shove you into the crossfire without a second thought, where only their interests’ matter. Especially if circumstances were in their favour, only fools would let such opportunity go to waste.

The opportunity to benefit from the situation by exerting more demands and workload, where the concept of time is not in the equation. Where the concept of labour exploitation is foreign and unknown.

What is work-life balance?

“Now that you’re looking at me, how do I look?” You look at him in the eye.

He doesn’t hesitate. “You look as beautiful as ever.”

A huff sounds in the air. “You need a new eye prescription, Keiji. Because I know I look like shit.”

He shakes his head in retaliation, narrowing his eyes. “What about you? How do I look?”

“You look as charming as ever.” You don’t hesitate either.

“That calls for a date to the optometrist. Because I’m sure I look like a wreck now too.”

Your deadpan look earns a raised eyebrow in return, an invite to refute the statement made.

“And we’ll get matching frames?”

“If there’s suitable ones, why not.”

“And if I get those Hello Kitty ones with whiskers on the side?” You tease.

“If only you’ll wear them yourself.” He quips.

“I call for bright pink ones.”

“I call for leopard print ones.”

“The ribbon has to be sparkly, with bling studs on it.”

“Agreed.”

The silent staredown of nerves ends with grins that break into soft chuckles, fits of hiccupped laughter, fingers wiping away tears of laughter streaming down cheekbones that hurt.

It takes a moment for the both of you to calm down and have your breathings back to normal. And during that moment the cold reality unwelcomingly hits again, fatigue hanging in the air.

Akaashi drums his fingers on the warm mug. “How much longer till the end of this hell of a week?”

“A couple more extra posttests to go over, add them into the analysis, hope they’ll blend in well and pray that there’ll be no more last-minute additions thrown my way.” You sigh, swirling your spoon to fish up the soaked marshmallows that have sunken below.

His eyes widen in surprise. “Protests? What protest are you attending?”

“Posttests, Keiji. Posttests for this never-ending research I’m tied down with.” His eyes soften knowingly with understanding, offering a sad smile in condolence. “I’ll show my support for a protest if there is any mentally and in spirit, not physically at this state.”

“What about you? How much longer till you see the light at the end of the tunnel?” You roll your neck back, cracking it louder than you expected.

Akaashi runs his calculation with his fingers. “A couple more sketches to go through, around 10 chapters more, I think. And pray that there’s no last-minute changes thrown my way too.”

“Skechers? I didn’t know you guys were collaborating with the brand.”

“Drawing sketches, dear. Not the shoe brand.”

He smiles at your mumbled ‘oh’, sipping on your hot chocolate sheepishly in attempt to escape the embarrassment creeping up your neck.

“How many hours of sleep have you been getting recently?” It’s a question that’s genuine and a shot to avert focus somewhere else.

“I’m not sure either. Three? Or maybe two.” He rubs his sleep-lidded eyes, stifling a yawn.

“What the fuck, Keiji. I’m gonna appear at your workplace with a big wok in hand and smack your boss in the head. Hard.” You ball your fist threateningly.

He pushes his falling glasses up with a finger gracefully, the uncanny resemblance to a certain detective manga is scary yet amusing. “You can’t, there’s no one in the office now. I don’t know where my boss lives too.”

“This isn’t the time for rationality, Keiji.” You groan, rubbing your face with your palms in distraught.

He chuckles, stirring his mug of hot chocolate. “Someone has to be the rational one here. Plus, you’re not getting any more sleep than me either.”

“How do you know?” You peep through the gap of your fingers.

“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, there’s two pandas living in this apartment, instead of two humans.” He states matter-of-factly.

“Not zombified humans?”

“No, pandas it is.”

“Fine.” You give in, knowing it won’t go anywhere. “But before we plan on assassinating our bosses, we have to get our months’ worth of salary and bonus first.”

“Celery? There’s vegetables in your lab pantry as well? Don’t you hate celery?” He asks.

“Salary, like money that goes ka-ching ka-ching.” You rub your thumb and the tip of your index finger together, making a money gesture. “Not the awful vegetable.”

Akaashi rubs his neck bashfully, taking a small sip of hot chocolate.

“You need sleep, Keiji.” You sigh.

“I do, and so do you.” He sighs too.

The mini clouds formed by the steam evaporating from the hot mug of chocolate start to dissipate into the air, leaving a faint trail of vapor behind.

“How have you been staying up for the past few nights? Coffee aside.” You rest your chin on your palm.

He mirrors your action. “Those peach candy Tenma-san gave me are surprisingly good in keeping me awake. It tastes great too. Want some?”

“There’s bitch flavoured candies? How do they taste like?” Your eyes widen in curiosity, while his eyes widen in alarm.

“And who’s Tenma-san? You mean Udai-san?”

“Peach flavoured candies, like your favourite peach fruit.” He takes off his glasses to wipe off the steam fogging his lenses, a soft smile dotting his lips. “And yes, it’s Udai-san.”

“We both really need sleep.”

“Agreed.”

Your marshmallows have expanded twice its size now, soaking up more than half of the chocolatey goodness. “Speaking about sleep, how does sleeping in this Saturday sound like?”

“Amazing. Wonderful. Excellent.” You clasp your hands together, nodding happily.

“It’s a sleepover date then.”

A light laughter erupts in the kitchen. “Is it considered a date whenever it involves just the both of us?”

“As long as I have you by my side, it’s a date no matter what we do.” His fingers find its way to yours, grazing your knuckles tenderly.

Your fingers capture his, running your thumb against his soft skin. “I guess this sleepy state of you isn’t that bad either.”

“You mean this state of mine where I’m gradually losing my sanity?” His eyebrows arch up, unamused.

You hum in thought, a glint of mischief gleaming in your eyes. “Well, if it brings out the sappiness in you even more, I don’t see why not.”

“You know I’m a natural sap for you.”

“And I’m as huge as a sap for you too.”

If this were any normal day, the both of you would be a blushing mess at such honey coated words. Akaashi would be burning up furiously from his neck to the tip of his ears, coughing as he endures the loving punches thrown his way with a meek smile. Sometimes he would bury his flushed face in the crook of your neck, the best alternative he can find instead of digging a hole in the ground.

For Akaashi and you, the love language shared between the both of you aren’t words of affirmation centric. It was more of acts of service and quality time. Like going grocery shopping together, preparing a toothbrush with toothpaste ready on top of the sink, leaving little notes in each other’s doors, replacing new hand sanitisers and face masks in each other’s bags.

You know he’s there for you, and he knows you’re there for him. It’s a mutual understanding that lingers in the air, its quiet presence carrying the weight of more than thousands of unspoken words.

“You’re such a dork, Keiji.” You smile, shaking your head lightly.

“I’m not.” He pouts, tilting his head.

“You are.”

“I’m a pig, not a dog.”

It takes a few seconds for you to register Akaashi’s words, followed by a snort that earns a look of confusion from the boy across you.

“You’re the dorkiest pig out of all from your year then.”

It takes a few seconds for Akaashi to register your words, followed by a snort from him that earns more snorts from you.

“So, see you this Saturday?” He brings your knuckles to his lips, planting soft kisses on each one.

You can’t help but giggle at his actions. “Yeah, don’t be late. The dress code for the date is pjs.”

“Sounds good to me. Can’t wait.” He raises his mug up towards you, a toast to the upcoming date.

“Can’t wait.” You clink your mug with his, honouring the toast.

The now lukewarm chocolate tastes sweeter than usual.

“We seriously need to catch up after this.”

“Ketchup on omurice sounds good.”

“Catching up with omurice topped with a heart shape ketchup dressing?”

“Yeah, and a kiss on the lips as dessert.”

a/n: akaashi is a 95liner, which makes him born in the year of the pig! hope this makes sense and clears any confusions :>

#akaashi keiji x you #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji x y/n #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #akaashi x you #akaashi x y/n #akaashi keiji fluff #akaashi fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #akaashi imagine #akaashi fics #haikyuu writings #—love found in ordinary days

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jeongyunhoed · 3 years

Photo

Past-Present-Future Black Dahlia

Two major tragedies bring Lee Mirae closer to the edge as she goes through the stages of grief in a more violent manner that would affect not only her relationships with her boyfriend Jeong Yunho and her half-brother Choi San, but also has her becoming closer with the immortal mutant Kang Yeosang. Fueled by rage, grief, and pain, along with a very rude awakening that has Mirae spiraling out of control and questioning everything she holds dear.

Group: ATEEZ Member: Yunho Pairing: Jeong Yunho / OC Genre: Action, adventure, angst, fantasy

Watch Out! : Violence, blood, death, grief and loss, major character deaths, use of weapons, some jealousy (but no cheating ofc), implied smut (not sure if there is any but i’m putting it out there nonetheless), mental illness (probably?), gambling and alcohol

Anything else? : Mentions of other idols of course as well as other characters. SuperM, Dean, Chanyeol, Zelo, soloist Park Jihoon to name a few.

Author’s Note: Ten plays devil’s advocate, more anger and rage from our main character. This chapter was originally supposed to go according to the plot I made, but considering what I typed out, I ended up ripping up the paper where I plotted chapters 5 and 6.

Listen to: Gimme Gimme - NCT 127

Masterlist

Chapter 5

It took Mirae seconds to process everything that Baekhyun was now saying. Baekhyun looked so satisfied, so pleased that his plans had succeeded. “I took everyone you love away, just as you took everyone that mattered to me away, in a way,” He said with a chuckle. “If you were wondering about Yeosang in there, it’s not like he would genuinely be there for you either. You’re really all alone.”

Her hands felt like clenching into fists. “Now you’ve succeeded. I am all alone. What else do you want to happen?” Mirae asked.

Baekhyun smiled and with a snap of his fingers, all the lanterns in the garden lit up, illuminating the otherwise dimly lit grounds. “You are right about that, Mirae. I have succeeded in making sure you lose everyone you love while making you feel guilty for not being able to save them. If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you were and still are the monster you are trying so hard not to be.”

“What the fuck do you want with me? Am I supposed to get down on my knees and grovel?” Mirae said through gritted teeth, anger rushing through her and she was trying her hardest not to snap this time.

It only made the male laugh. “No, of course not. But, seeing as I’ve made you suffer enough, I thought I’d give you a proposal. Ino knows about this of course. Project Apocalypse is more than just a think tank. It’s about time mutants embraced our superiority over everyone else. If living peacefully among them doesn’t cut it, taking control certainly does. If you join me, you not only give this venture added credibility, but you also give it the necessary firepower it needs in case of dissent.”

Mirae just stared at him, anger still boiling and bubbling inside her the more she listened to him. “Of course, if you don’t, it’s going to be very concerning what happens with Junhong, and possibly even the loved ones of Chanyeol and Hyuk, and maybe even your… brother? Choi San, isn’t that his name?” Baekhyun grinned. “I am aware that San heals, but that won’t stop me from trying. Besides, your immortal soulmate could still be killed, and it wouldn’t take me to do it.”

Baekhyun glanced at her, waiting for her to speak. “Don’t think I don’t know who else you are around, Mirae-”

Mirae had her hand on his throat, her eyes glowing red. Baekhyun coughed and gagged, his hands on her wrist. He noticed that her fingertips were glowing red as well. “You really dare to do that, don’t you? After all we’ve been through?” He coughed.

Mirae didn’t say anything and only squeezed his neck tighter and kicked him far into the deep end of the swimming pool. She turned around and walked back inside, seeing Taeyong and Mark already standing, while Yeosang remained seated along with Jongin. The glow in her eyes faded as she met their gazes. “Baekhyun’s in the pool,” Taeyong eyed Mark, both of them rushing out onto the garden.

“What happened? What did you do?” Yeosang turned to her. “Did you kill him?” He asked, Jongin looking horrified.

Mirae turned to the teleporter. “You helped Baekhyun in killing Hyuk and Chanyeol. Tell me why I shouldn’t return the favor? I remember you telling me before that you have sisters, and you have parents, and your nephew and niece…” She recalled, approaching Jongin, who was looking even more horrified.

Jongin stood up and disappeared in his place, appearing in another part of the room. Mirae’s eyes began to glow, making Yeosang get up from his seat. “Mirae, do you really want to do this?” He asked, glancing at Jongin, who kept teleporting in random spots in the room, while glancing out the window from time to time.

The dining table exploded, making Yeosang jump out of the way. The shelf containing porcelain dinnerware also exploded, some of the shards hitting Jongin before he could teleport again. The decor that hung on the walls were also charged and exploded, destroying almost the entire room.

“Mirae, I-” Jongin sputtered, his teleporting ability fluctuating when a shard of glass cut his leg and made him limp. “You have every right to hate me-” He choked when Mirae had her hand on his throat and kicked the shard in his leg further into him, making him yelp.

“I think I’ll track them down, after I’m done with you,” Mirae squeezed his throat tighter. “By your reaction, I think they know you’re alive and you’ve been seeing them often since that time.”

“Mirae, come on- You w-wouldn’t,” Jongin gagged, seeing Yeosang lock and close the doors. He tried to teleport again, but his energy was wavering.

Mirae looked down at the shard that was still exposed and it exploded, causing a big gaping wound into his leg. Jongin groaned in pain, eyes widening when he saw that her eyes no longer had the red glow, but were of a pitch black. Yeosang stared at her. “My dear, keep going.”

“Y-Yeosang, what are you-” Jongin looked over at the immortal incredulously, seeing Mark appear.

“I am impressed by how this is turning out, strangely,” Yeosang said, standing behind Mirae. He looked at her. “My dear Mirae, I must confess that this is a side of you that I frankly find so attractive.”

Baekhyun coughed and took out a pistol, only for it to explode in his hands when Mirae’s eyes glowed red again. She let go of Jongin, who collapsed to the floor, coughing and holding his leg that had a gaping wound. A beam of light came from Baekhyun’s hand, aiming towards her face only for her to duck. Baekhyun kicked through what was left of the dining table and tried to charge at her, only for her to kick him away. Mirae glanced at Taeyong and Mark, who looked especially alarmed, then looked up at the ceiling.

Yeosang, sensing what she was about to do, ran out of the mansion. Taeyong was quick to follow suit, trying to outrun Yeosang to the front doors. Mark pulled Baekhyun and ran towards Jongin, the three of them disappearing as the ceiling began to crumble down.

Boom.

San arrived at the floor where Junhong’s apartment was, seeing the rest of them including Yunho, sitting around and looking concerned and holding an ice pack over his head. He was concentrating, trying to hear Mirae’s thoughts to get an idea of where she might be. He was growing even more worried, while sending dagger looks towards the room that they knew was Ino’s.

“I know we’re all worried and wondering where Mirae might be right now, but the rest of you need to eat something,” Junhong broke the silence as he took out a large plate from the microwave that had a large burger with fries and a tall drink. “I’m testing out these bars I made that turn into meals. Perfect for missions.”

“Where’s Ino?” San asked, looking over at the meal on the plate and taking a fry. “Left again?”

“What else would he be doing? He’s not even bothering to duplicate himself right now,” Yunho grumbled.

“Who could it be, though? If Mirae is not the only one who survived the Seoul attack after all, there may be one or two of them,” Junhong pondered on the thought, taking out a plate of spaghetti that came from another bar he was testing with the microwave.

“Could those one or two people be the ones that were in here?” Hongjoong questioned. “If they were, then they must have been mad at you, at Mirae, at Chanyeol, at Hyuk or something.”

“Possibly. There goes the training room I spent months on building,” Junhong sighed.

Yunho got up and took the ice pack off his head. “I’m going to look for her.”

“Do you know where she is?” San asked.

“Yes and no,” Yunho sighed. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. If Mirae was alive, or conscious at the very least, he’d still be able to hear her, or at least read her memories. He opened his eyes, his expression turning into a crestfallen one. “Baekhyun and Jongin. I keep hearing those names from her. Baekhyun and Jongin.”

Junhong stared at him. “...Baekhyun and Jongin. The two of them survived.”

“There are others too, not just them, not just Yeosang,” Yunho closed his eyes again to concentrate. “Psychics, immortals, but she’s angry at those two because they were here.” He could see her memories of being taunted by Baekhyun when he revealed that he was behind the explosion. “Baekhyun and Jongin messed with the Danger Room.”

“...That’s impossible. They wouldn’t know how to tamper with the controls-” Junhong looked over at the door of Ino’s room. “Ino told them about it?”

“No, but Ino knew they were here. It’s all I could get from her now, it’s like she’s so far away-” Yunho opened his eyes again.

“Where could she be?” Hongjoong asked.

“I don’t know, it’s like she’s somewhere by a body of water or something.”

They heard the doorbell ring and all of them looked at each other. “Except for Mirae, all of us are here,” San looked back at the door.

Hongjoong sped past them, the blade from his sleeve already unsheathed as he looked into the monitor. “There’s no one outside,” He said. The doorbell rang again.

“...Yeosang?” Yunho and San exchanged looks as they stood up and Hongjoong opened the door.

In came the mutant himself, looking frazzled. “Thank heavens I looked in the right one, I went up to see if any one of you were there and I had the sense to be here,” He said.

Yunho’s expression fell and he immediately grabbed Yeosang by the collar. “Where did you take her?”

“Would you prefer me to answer or are you just going to kill me?” Yeosang replied, and Yunho could sense that he seemed just as concerned. When Yunho let go, he dusted himself off. “Well, I can see that the cadre of assassins is here.”

“Explain. Where is Mirae and what happened to her?” San asked.

Yeosang glanced at the rest of them, including Junhong. “Oh my, you have all been sitting around and waiting, aren’t you?”

“Well we don’t even know where she is and what we’re going to do so unless you can help us out by telling us where she is and what happened to her, we’ll take it from there,” Yunho replied.

“I took her to where she would find the answer to her question of who killed her two friends. There, she found the answer and there she unleashed her rage. It’s the first time I’ve seen her like this but I reckon it must be all the grief she is feeling,” Yeosang said quietly.

Wooyoung got up from the floor and a glance at Yeosang brought in flashes of visions of what happened. “She crumbled down a mansion, didn’t she?” He asked.

“Yes, yes she did. Two of them, her old colleagues in that center she used to work in, took the most beating,” Yeosang replied.

“You’re afraid of Mirae,” Wooyoung pointed out. “Your face might not show it, but I saw it. You ran out of that mansion while she was in there blowing it up.”

“Anyone with half a mind should be afraid, especially of someone like her,” Yeosang said.

“Well, we witnessed that when she lashed out at Ino the other day,” San said. “And fought Yunho and I off while she was out there in the streets wandering.”

“Where was the mansion?” Junhong asked.

“It’s a long drive north. You’ll know you’re near the boundary when you see burned down cars. Those were likely their bodyguards who were trying to keep us from going,” Yeosang explained.

“Then we go there,” Hongjoong nodded, making the rest of them stand up. “I’m not going to be surprised if we don’t see her there, but Wooyoung will be able to see where she will be next.”

“At the end of the burned down cars, there’s a thick fog ahead. Just move past it, you’ll get there,” Yeosang advised.

“Where are you going?” San raised a brow.

“I was informed by the two other mutants that were with us, Mark and Taeyong, about Project Apocalypse, a business venture that they were planning, while Mirae and Baekhyun were dueling in the garden of the house, I found out what that venture was all about,” Yeosang explained.

“Which is?” Junhong asked.

“Project Apocalypse is a think-tank, and they plan on exerting influence over political matters through that think-tank, to push their agenda,” Yeosang explained.

“Which is?” Yunho asked.

“Mutant supremacy. I must admit they drive a very hard bargain on that idea. Our mutant race taking over the country, governing non-mutants, all of the power and control goes to us of that persuasion,” Yeosang said.

“Nothing good will come from that,” San shook his head, realizing what it meant.

“It is what I was thinking as well. I will always stand for our kind over the rest, but if there is anything I have learned over the centuries, it’s that the ruling race may not always bring peace, and absolute power corrupts absolutely,” Yeosang nodded in agreement. “However, Mark thinks the opposite even if he’s lived as long as I have,” He muttered.

“Mirae would be looking for Baekhyun and Jongin, right?” Hongjoong chimed in. “And we’re looking for Mirae. We might have to change who we’re looking for. If we find those two, we’re bound to see her.”

The rest of them nodded. “Where could they be? Would you know where they’d go to next?” Seonghwa suddenly asked.

Yeosang nodded. “Unfortunately I do. The mansion Mirae blew up is owned by Taeyong and his brother Taemin, they will likely be at Baekhyun’s penthouse, in a metropolis not far from where the mansion is.”

“In that case, I’ll prepare the van with everything we’ll need,” Junhong took away the rest of the bars he was testing and went inside his room.

The rest of them did the same in their places. Hongjoong pushed back the blades hidden in his sleeves while Seonghwa filled his quiver with arrows and folded his bow. San unfolded his harpoon gun and loaded it with an arrow while Yunho picked up his holsters that had his sai. Mingi fitted the shurikens and axes he had on his belt while Wooyoung sheathed his katanas and Jongho fitted his pair of nunchaku in his holster belt.

A giant pile of rubble crumbled into dust as Mirae crawled out of the debris that came from the mansion. Her eyes were still glowing red as she dusted herself off upon getting to her feet. A lot of the debris and rubble landed on the lake below and she heard a hissing sound come from the waters.

They had disappeared. There was no sign of any of them. Of Taeyong, of Mark, of Baekhyun or Jongin, or even Yeosang. The white streak in her hair seemed to become more prominent, as if taking over another section of her hair. She kept replaying what Baekhyun told her. It was all him. He was responsible for the deaths of Jihoon, of Chanyeol, of Hyuk. The red glow in her eyes remained as Mirae felt nothing but anger. She wanted to know where they went, blinking a few times when she kept hearing someone’s thoughts. Yunho’s thoughts, wondering where she was. “Stop it, stop it, stop it!” She yelled, the nearby vehicles and sheds exploding.

She saw several people arrive at the scene, looking horrified at the sight of her in the midst of the ruins of the mansion. Mirae stared at them, the ground exploding in front of them, keeping them away. An armored van pulled up and out came a team of law enforcement all wearing tactical outfits. “Hands in the air!” One of them shouted.

Mirae stared at them and then at the armored car behind them, making it explode. “Hands in the air now! Freeze!” Another one yelled.

She stared at their weapons, making them explode one by one, the rest of the guards taking out their other weapons as backup. Mirae reached into her pocket and took out the deck of cards she had with her.

“You probably shouldn’t do that,” A suited young man suddenly appeared from a portal close to the road. The portal closed behind him.

“Why not?” The cards were charging in her hand.

“Because-” The male ran up to her. “Because these people are not worthy to see you showing the true extent of your powers.”

“Are you with them? The guys who owned this house?” Mirae asked him.

“I created this little world they lived in. This reality was created by me,” He said. “Call me Ten. You must be the soul-taker.”

The glow in her eyes faded and he saw tears fall down her eyes. Mirae fell to her knees, breaking into sobs as the cards she was holding crumbled into ashes. “They killed people I love. They killed them.”

Ten bent down to stroke her hair. “They did, didn’t they? And now you want revenge, your anger is driving you to kill them aren’t you?” He said calmly. “The people that betrayed you, the people you thought you trusted the most, who would never do anything, hurt you in the worst way possible, didn’t they?”

A portal appeared behind her, showing an abandoned boarding school, its grounds almost barren and bathed in gray, black and white, almost devoid of any color. Ten gently helped Mirae up to her feet. “Come, let me take you to my place, it’s not much to look at, but you will find a way for your revenge in there. I will help you,” he said.

Mirae looked over at the portal behind them, seeing a few glints of light in the distance. She reluctantly followed him inside, the portal closing behind them as they found themselves in the place where the boarding school was. “Where is this?” She asked quietly, wiping her soot and tear-stained cheeks with the sleeve of her jacket.

“This is in the same world I created. You can stay here if you want, no one can harm you and they will think twice before they think of doing it,” Ten muttered near her ear.

“Will I find Baekhyun and Jongin inside?” She glanced at him.

“Anyone you want to find is in there. Give them a piece of your mind, show them how much of a mistake it is to cross you,” A smirk crept up on his features as he led her towards the dark entrances.

With Junhong at the wheel and Yunho in the passenger’s seat, the rest of them seated themselves at the back inside the van, driving down the highway that Yeosang told them about. “It’s been a while since I was on a mission like this,” Junhong muttered as he drove.

Yunho’s expression fell. “Those two people also killed Jihoon. I can hear her thoughts. They killed Jihoon too.”

Junhong sighed. “Basically everyone who was there for her from the beginning.”

“Honestly, I don’t even know what to do, how to calm her down,” Yunho said quietly. “I mean, I know they hurt her, I know how hurt she is, losing people she loves, and to think before she ran away, we fought,” He looked down.

“The way I see it, we have to understand that none of us, no matter how long we’ve lived, has seen everything she has. I know you know that, Mirae probably told you that the first thing you two started arguing, and I’m no psychic,” Junhong said, sensing the teleporter nod. “I know they always tend to include us whenever the Seoul attack is brought up, but the thing is, she was there. She fought those goblins back into oblivion. Ino gave her the directive to blow up the Center.”

“The guys said that was how she looked when I died in her arms,” Yunho looked out the window.

“Perhaps. It’s another thing we have to understand. Mirae has lost a lot of things in her life. Her biological parents didn’t want her, so she was interned in that sanitarium. She thought she lost you during that mission you all told me about. When she had to fight her adoptive parents because of that cult, she had to kill them and witness Jihoon dying too. And now, she lost Chanyeol and Hyuk,” Junhong said quietly. “She’s probably losing hope. She’s probably afraid she might lose you again and San too in the midst of her rage.”

The rest of them overheard Junhong’s words. “Thinking about it, she brought us together again,” Hongjoong said, looking down. “Quite a few times too.”

“This is all Ino’s fault, really,” Jongho crossed his arms. “But what happens if we fail?”

“We’re not going to fail. It’s not an option,” Seonghwa shook his head profusely. “We can’t fail. We’ve got powers, we’re good enough.”

“As cliche as that might sound, I must agree with him,” Yeosang chimed in. “But are you all strong enough to go against the people that may have her right now in one way or another?”

“What kind of mutants are we dealing with?” San asked.

“Quite a few psychics. Jongin is a teleporter, Baekhyun controls light. Mark is immortal like me and only Yunho and I can kill him,” Yeosang revealed. “However, out of all of them, Taemin is the one you might want to watch out for. He can mimic your powers, you know. Ten too. He can send you into another dimension completely.”

“So we’re up against psychics, they can read our minds, that’s great,” Wooyoung grumbled, the katanas behind him hitting the wall of the van.

“They’ll know what we’re up to before we even do anything,” Mingi sighed. “We’re definitely screwed.”

“I may have the advantage on that. They won’t be able to read my mind,” San shook his head, looking determined. “But as for the rest of us, I don’t know.”

“Mirae seems to be the key to end this whole mess. She has exposed the faction of our race that is bent on power,” Yeosang mumbled as he sat back. “They have kept themselves hidden in the shadows long enough and they plan on making quite an entrance to the world.”

“You make it sound like they’re bringing on the apocalypse in their Project Apocalypse,” Hongjoong glanced at him.

“They can pull it off whichever way, it would be best not to underestimate them,” Yeosang pointed out.

Junhong slowed down when he saw the piles of burned down cars and piles of ash on the road. The asphalt was also littered with scorch marks. Yunho sat up upon seeing the damage that was done. The thick fog Yeosang mentioned was close by. Junhong and Yunho exchanged looks and nodded, the elder slowly pressing the gas to drive towards the fog. The fog seemed endless as he drove on. Yunho closed his eyes in the hopes of reaching out to Mirae again. All she seemed to think was that she was getting tired, and that she was bent on looking for Baekhyun and Jongin.

The fog was beginning to clear up, and they found themselves at the lakeside village. “We’re here,” Yeosang said, making all of them look out the window. “Junhong, drive towards the smoke coming from the cliff. That’s where the mansion is, or was.”

“I was going to do that,” Junhong muttered, side-eyeing the vampiric mutant as he drove on.

“This isn’t the north, is it? Please tell me we didn’t reach North Korea,” Mingi said.

“This is nowhere in North Korea. This is the place created by one of the people I just told you about,” Yeosang pointed out.

As Junhong pulled up in front of the burned down ruins of the mansion, Wooyoung transformed into his shadow form and slipped out of the van, slinking towards the ruins. Yunho tried to concentrate again to reach out to Mirae. After a moment, Wooyoung’s shadow form slipped back inside the van and he transformed back to normal. Yeosang cringed at the transformation. “Well? Any luck?” Hongjoong asked.

“Someone took her into this portal,” Wooyoung said. “That guy you were probably talking about. He brought her somewhere, like a building, a big building, almost like a private school.”

The rest of them glanced at Yeosang. “Where is that?”

“Ten has taken her to their headquarters. Possibly where they intend to carry out Project Apocalypse. He can be very...manipulative,” Yeosang said.

“So that’s where you go to sometimes? Hang out with those kinds of people?” Yunho raised a brow.

“They are like me, and they were already there before the rest of you got your powers,” Yeosang replied. “However, I must reveal that this is where your so-called wise figure has probably been going.”

“Ino,” San mumbled. “So there’s a chance we might fight Ino hyung too, huh.”

“We’re definitely screwed,” Wooyoung frowned.

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enigma-im · 4 years

Text

What We Do With Shadows

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Shadow Man X Female!Human Warning: Strong language, Mention of Abusive Relationship, Terrible (ex) boyfriend, Penetration, fluff, Better New Boyfriend

Word Count: 3931

Eva is in a terrible relationship. The shadow in her house takes notice and decides to act on his feelings.

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"Get the fuck out of the way, Jesus Eva," Nick shouts. I quickly step out of the way of the TV holding the broom.

"Sorry, I thought you wanted me to clean the floors today," I stare down near his feet.

"Are you sassing me right now? I said clean the kitchen floor, you made a damn mess of dinner last night, it's covered in food," he snaps back. I nod with his words, not wanting to upset him anymore. I stand there waiting for his next words, knowing he hates it when I leave mid-conversation. When he doesn’t say anything I look up at him, he is watching Tv again. He notices I'm staring so he snaps his eyes to me," Well, are you going to just stand there? The kitchen isn't going to clean itself."

I jump, "Right, sorry." I quickly head into the kitchen and get to work sweeping the floors. Brushing the bits of broken plate and missed food from last night. I sigh as I remember him throwing the plate on the floor, complaining that the food was cold. I offered to microwave it but he took that as an attack on him. He raised his hand to me but dropped it before he could follow through. He has never hit met but last night felt very close.

As I'm losing myself in thought I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn around and see no one.

"Hello," I ask stupidly to the room.

I jump when Nick calls from the other room," I'm going out with the boys tonight, make sure you have dinner made before I get back."

"When will you be home," I yell to him. My only answer is a slam of the front door. I sigh before finishing the floor.

I head upstairs to my room to get a shower and perhaps a quick nap. I walk into my room and startle when my door slams behind me. I turn around to look at the door and don’t see anything peculiar. Perhaps a breeze? I jump when I catch a dark figure out the corner of my eye.

"Hello," I ask beginning to get frightened.

"Hello," a deep voice answers back. I suck in a gasp and an icy chill run downs my back. I quickly look around the room, seeing nothing.

"Who is there," I keep looking around. He ignores me.

"I have a question for you Eva," he says from behind me. I twist around quickly, still seeing nothing.

"W-what," I say worried.

"Is he always like that," he asked from my left.

"Is who always like what," I try to follow the sound of his voice. This time catching the sight of a dark figure, but just out the corner of my eye.

"Your boyfriend, Nick is it? Is Nick always so insufferable," he clarifies.

"N-no," I answer. I feel a breeze push my hair over my shoulder.

"Please Eva, don’t lie to me," he growls near my ear," as long as I've been here he has been awful to you."

"H-how long have you been here," I ask. He ignores my question again.

"You know you deserve better," he whispers against my ear. Caressing my shoulder with a lover's touch.

I turn to look for him," Do I? I feel I should be better for him." looking over my shoulder I see no one. Just the barely lit room. Another caress against my cheek, curling my hair behind my ear.

"What a waste then. He doesn’t deserve to even look upon you," he growls," You are an angel, a saint stuck around a bunch of sinners. You deserve better, and I could give you better." I turn to his voice, still just catching him out the corner of my eye. A dark shadow gliding just out a view.

"Why, I'm a nobody. I don’t deserve your charity," I call into the room. Not knowing where to look. I hear a warm chuckle. Rich like syrup, comforting like a warm blanket. A hand pets down my spine making me shiver. Sliding down over my tail bone before grabbing my hips and jerking me around. I suck in a breath as I face towards my bed, still seeing no one.

"Charity. That would entail I get nothing out of this," his knuckles run over my hips. Parting my shirt so his warm fingers touch my skin. My brain stutters when he hooks a thumb over the button of my pants. With a flick, undoing my jeans. Then his touch is gone, finally noticing I stopped breathing. I take in a deep breath, my eyes fluttering as thoughts come back.

"What do you get out of this," I ask with labored breath. My heart beginning to beat wildly while a heavy feeling sits in my stomach.

"Perhaps more than you do. Id like to think it's equal though, but I will probably get the long end of the stick here," he answers. The curtains flutter wide for a moment. I jerk my head towards the new light from the uncovered window. The moon making the room sit in an eerie glow. Out the corner of my eye, I see his dark silhouette. I turn but he stays just out of view, teasing me with just peaks.

"Then what are you offering," I rephrase. He doesn’t answer. The room is quiet for too long that I assume he left, leaving my question unanswered. I nearly sigh in defeat before I feel a hand on my sternum. Pushing me back. I take a step, then another. Walking back till my legs hit against the bed. I fight his force but he pushes harder. I fall back onto the bed, bouncing a bit as I do.

I stare at the empty space ahead. Losing the feeling of his palm on me when I fell. I sit upon my elbows and look around. My gaze falls to my legs when I feel the bed dip. Seeing the indentions on the sheets. Another pair of indentions sit near my shoulders. I watch them out the corner of my eye but looking ahead. A gust of warmth spreads over my chest, pushing the strands of hair a few inches. Another gust splays over my neck, hearing the breath near my ear.

"Everything," he presses a wet kiss to my cheek," everything he doesn’t give you I will give. Everything he neglects I'll fulfill. In return, all I ask is for your care, your openness, your fear, desires, joy, pain. All you give to the unworthy man I ask for in his stead." he presses more kisses around my face. All slow and caring. It makes my lungs feel constricted, my eyes water. This is too much. No one has ever given me this sort of attention. It feels like a trap, a test.

I raise my hands and press against something solid. It's warm and soft, like touching a freshly cleaned sheet. Using little strength I push against him. Feeling the bed settle as his weight leaves. His hands aren't near my shoulders but his knees are still near mine.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. Even though I can't see him I look away, staring down at my legs. "I don’t even know you, or what you are. Also, he might be home soon so I should start on dinner," I try to sit up but a hand on my shoulder keeps me down.

"Excuse my forwardness, you make me so eager that I forget my manners. I am Raguel, it is a pleasure to be in your company, love," he grabs my hand against his chest. Lifting one of my hands and pressing a pair of soft lips to my knuckles.

"Raguel," I whisper to myself, testing out his name. He hums against my hand, giving another kiss in praise. "Angel of justice," I chuckle. I feel the rumbling in his chest from his laughing.

"I wouldn’t call myself an Angel but you may call me whatever you like," he rubs my hand to his face. I feel the scratchiness of stubble, the curve of his jaw.

"We shall see," I answer. I unfurrow my hand in his hold and cup his face. Chuckling when I feel a brush of air against my wrist. He turns in my hold, his nose brushing against my thumb. "May I see you," I ask. He stops breathing, turning his face away from my hand. I lose his warmth. I drop my arm dejectedly back to the bed.

"As you wish," he startles me by mumbling near my ear," promise me something first." I turn my head, my cheek bumping against his.

"What is it," I whisper.

"You won't let him back inside, leave him. Even if it's not for me, I need him out of your life," he rubs his nose against my temple. Brushing my hair away from my forehead.

"Raguel, I cant-," I start with a sigh.

"Please," he leans his chest against mine," he will destroy you, his yelling is just a start. I beg you not to allow him to get farther. If he strikes you I will kill him." I startle at his venom. He kisses near my eye, "I don’t mean to scare you but if he ever touches you I will not be able to stop my justice. I will end him."

I sit there in stunned silence. Not being able to conjure up a thought. His ire is alarming but its also a comfort. The idea of his protection is settling. Nick is a selfish man, always has been. Even when we first started dating. We had good times together, he could be a good man. Still, Raguel's words are like a weight in my mind. Too heavy to ignore. I don’t want to think about it but he might be right. He has never hit me but he has raised his hands to me a few times. Threatening me with his actions.

"I don’t think I ca-," I start.

"Don’t," he growls," you won't be alone. I will always be here." I don’t notice when a tear falls from my eye till he catches it with his mouth. Kissing the drop away from my cheek." I have you, love. I will always help you," he promises. I try to think but his words are like a balm to a burn. I know I'm only with nick because being alone is worse than being with him. Raguel tells me it doesn’t have to be this way. It's like a sliver of hope.

"ok," I shock myself by saying. I feel him lift, perhaps looking at me surprised.

"Alright," he chuckles, "I guess it's my turn now." I feel him stand up away from the bed. I sit up quickly, eager to finally see him. With no preamble, a figure stands before me. I want to laugh at the lack of theatrics but I'm floored.

He looks like a normal man, tall if not lanky. The alarming difference being how dark he is. If it weren't for the light from the lamp and moon I wouldn’t be able to see more than his eyes. He is near pitch black, only light enough to see outlines of him. For a quick second, I see a skinny tail flick behind him. I look from that to his face. His eyes are white, harsh contrast to his dark skin. If I didn’t know any better id assume he was a demon. Just missing horns sprouting from his temples.

"Not much of an angel in looks huh," he tries to joke. His ever-moving tail and fidgeting fingers give him away.

"Still one in personality though," I half-smile back. I stand away from the bed and walk towards him. His hands at his sides stop fidgeting, his shoulder bunch up. I reach out, startling him when I touch his face. I observe his features. Nothing stands out too harshly, he is average. It doesn’t take away from how attractive he is. His looks are soft, approachable. I like it.

When I pet my thumb over his cheek he closes his eyes. Leaning down towards me a bit more. I lead him down so our foreheads are touching. He startles me by grabbing my hips, pulling me closer. I cup the opposite side of his face with my other hand.

"Am I-," he shutters," am I appealing?" I can't help but smile. Where did his confidence go? Instead of voicing my attraction I lean up and kiss his cheek. When I settle back off my toes his eyes open. He stares into mine with a feeling of satisfaction. Then he leans forward, our noses brushing against each other. His fingers twitch against my hips. My eye close as his lips brush against mine. Not yet a kiss but the shy start of one. My mouth parts as he sits a hair length away.

"Raguel," I whisper against him. That’s all it took for him to be brave. He presses hard against me. His lips melding to mine with a strange bit of excitement. His fingers grip my hips hard, keeping me flush against him. He seems a bit overeager as he licks at my mouth. I try not to smile as I meet his tongue with my own. He groans, grinding my hips into his.

Lines start to blur when he walks me backward. A sense of déjà vu when my legs stop against the bed. With a twist, he drags me down with him. Falling on his back with me on his front. We part for a second, just enough to see each other smile before diving back in. his hands glide down to my ass., groping me as he nibbles my lips. I whimper, feeling bold I grind myself against him.

"Clothes, off," he pants. Our mouths latch as he runs his hands under my shirt. We part for a second just to take it off before meeting again. I delve into his mouth, my tongue molding against his. He groans as he unclasps my bra. I pry the clothing off and toss it somewhere to my side. I gasp as he gropes my chest. Massaging my breast as we break from our kiss.

Panting against each other he looks down between us. He sucks in a breath as he looks at my topless body. He parts his hand, allowing view of my hard nipples. He wastes no time flipping us over and sucking on my teat. Laving his attention over the pebbled peaks. I groan grabbing as his head. I'm surprised by the hair I feel, having not noticed it before. It's soft and wavy.

Not wanting to waste any more time Raguel reaches down to my pants. His mouth still attacking my boob. I buck as he cups my cunt. Having better access with the button still undone. He curls his fingers and massages me. Feeling the intermittent pressure over my clit.

"Raguel," I grip his hair. I feel him rumble against my chest. Laughing or groaning, I'm not sure. He sits up abruptly and rips my bottoms down my legs. Leaving me completely bare below him. His eyes flutter as a smile graces his face.

"Sorry love, I cant lavish you as I wish," he mumbles as he lifts my legs. He wraps them around his waist. I look near his crotch and barely make out a dark protrusion. It’s a little lighter than the rest of his body but only barely. I can see no detail, barely tell how long or thick he is. "I need to be inside you," he purrs as he grips himself. Using one hand he parts my folds. Pleased with himself as he notices how wet I already am. I can't ignore the taboo of this. My boyfriend had left hours ago and only knowing this shadow man for such little time. It's arousing in an embarrassing way.

He positions himself closer, adjusting his cock so his tip sits near my entrance. He wastes no time sliding forward. We both cry out at the feeling. He bottoms out quickly, answering my question of how long or thick is he. He is thick but perhaps averagely long.

"By the heavens," he grips my hips," this will be wonderful." he slides out then snaps forward. Repeating in quick bursts. I tighten my legs around his waist, pulling him harder with his next thrust. I pant and moan as he plows into me. Sighing when I look at his wide grin and lidded eyes. His tail flicking behind him, he is definitely enjoying himself.

He falls forward on his forearms, crowding me as he does. He peppers my face with kisses as he thrust faster. Bucking harder than before, watching my face as I cry out for him. He grinds his hips in a way that my clit rubs against his pelvis. I turn my head and meet his lips, needing him in every way. My insides clenching up in pleasure as he drives his cock in me.

"Cum for me, only me," he says against my mouth. I lean up to kiss him again but he leans back. Content on watching me come undone for him. I decided to focus on his hips, the feeling of his cock. The electric sensation running from my clit. I find myself bucking with him, chasing my high. Very suddenly I cry out louder, moaning like a porn star. I clench his hips tighter and throw my head back. Convulsing onto his cock as I cum.

"R-Ragu-," I try to stutter out. I faintly hear him laughing as I fall apart. He kisses my forehead before watching me with rapt attention. Never stopping his thrusts as I ride out my high.

As I settle a bit more he pulls out of me. I look up at him confused, he didn’t finish, did he? Before I could ask he flips me on my stomach. Turning me so I face the door. He crawls behind me and grabs my hips. Pulling them back towards his own. His erection sits between my legs. I rest my head on the bed and look under myself. His dick a hot comparison to my skin. His dark cock hits against my thighs. I watch as he pulls back and adjusts himself to my hole. Thrusting in with a hiss.

I rest on my forearms as he fucks me from behind. Listening to the claps of his skin against mine. Listening to his moans and cries of pleasure. I sing along with him, raptured by his thrust. I faintly hear another noise from outside the room. I can't bother to pay it any mind. All I can focus on is the feeling of Raguel. This strange shadow man slamming me from behind. Giving me the best lay of my life, not that it would have been a challenge.

"Where the hell are you," someone yells outside the door. I snap my head up, icy fear running down my spine. I panic and try to crawl away from Raguel, knowing who is yelling in the house. I don’t get far before Raguel grabs my hair, with the other arm he wraps it around my front. He pulls me back against his chest, still thrusting upwards into me he kisses along my neck. Nuzzling as I grip his arm. He pulls my hair so more of my neck is open for him. I'm conflicted between the fear and pleasure of the situation. I get lost in the feeling of him sucking on my skin I almost forget about Nick.

The door slams open, heavy boots stomping against the floor. I stare ahead at Nick standing in the door frame. He looks shocked before he turns angry.

"What the fuck," he shouts. His voice echoing around the room. Raguel chuckles as he uses the arm around my shoulders to cover my chest. Blocking my nipples from view. He lets go of my hair and runs it down my body to my cunt. Cupping me as his cock still slides in and out. His tail grips my thigh tightly.

"I'm pleasing my woman if you don’t mind," Raguel pants. I turn away from nick, smooshing my cheeks against Raguel's. He laughs then grunts when I clench around him. I hear Nick stomp his way further into the room.

"Like fucking hell you are," I hear him shout. He manages to get close enough to grab my arm but before he could pull me away something snakes around his wrist. I look down at his hand. There is black smoke around his arm, pulling it back at an angle. Raguel stops his movements and glares up at Nick. With a flick of his head Nick's feet are pulled out from under him. He hits the mattress then slams his chin on the hardwood floor. Nick now lays on his stomach. Black tendrils of smoke run up his legs and around his neck. Slowly he is dragged out the room. He claws at the floor, kicking at the smoke around him. It does nothing to stop his momentum. Soon he is out the door, screaming. His shouts dim when the door is slammed closed.

"Sorry love, I couldn’t help myself," Raguel rubs his cheek against mine," think I was too much of a show-off there? It was a little hard to focus with your warm pussy gripping me though." I groan at his words. My cunt fluttering with a surprise surge of arousal. He pants against my neck. Getting back to it he continues to fuck me. Holding me close, flicking my nipples as we both climb. It doesn’t take long for me to finish once again. This time I take Raguel along. Clenching hard against him, making him stutter in his thrusts. He chokes on a gasp before groaning loud against my ear. I feel something hot inside my cunt, spurting in pulses. He growls as he stills, giving just one more buck into me.

After a few seconds, Raguel pulls out of me with a sigh before falling back with me in his arms. We bounce against the mattress after we fall. He adjusts us so I'm lying comfortably over his arm. My head against his chest with his hand over my shoulder.

I look up at him, resting my chin on his pec. His eyes are closed and his lips slightly parted. He looks asleep.

"Raguel," I whisper to him. He startles me by humming in acknowledgment. He slowly opens his eyes and looks down at me.

"Sorry, I tend to get a bit lethargic after a good fuck," he mumbles. His deep sleepy voice making me nearly shiver.

"That’s alright, I just had a question," I slide up so I can rest my head in the crook of his neck. He wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me closer.

"What's that, love," he grumbles.

"What happens now," I bite my lip at the possible tension from the question. I feel him look down at me, his chin brushing against my hair.

"Whatever you like, I can be yours if that is what you want. I know that’s what I want," he pecks my head.

I grin," id like that."

"Then it's settled, now go to sleep, love. I’m about to pass out," he chuckles. I nod before shutting my eyes. Smiling genuinely for the first time in a long time.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I started this story cause i had a dumb idea of getting boned by a ghost you didnt know. was meant to be just some raunchy sex stuff, but i cant write anything without romance. So it got away from me and i had to add a little story to something that was meant to be just plain erotica.

Archive | Main Blog |

#Shadow monster #Eva x Raguel #monster boyfriend #exophilia #smut #fluff #abusive relationship #Enigma-IM #handsome shadow man #Raguel

341 notes · View notes

hajimes-erect-ahoge · 4 years

Text

Postmortem- Chapter 14

Everyone finally moves out of the hospital and into the new apartment complex!

ao3 About a week had passed since Ouma’s encounter with Amami in the recreation room, and the participants of Danganronpa’s 53rd season were finally being discharged from the hospital. The moving process was pretty simple; All that had to be done by the participants was gather whatever belongings they had and be relocated to the new apartment complex. After that, they would move into their individual apartments and settle into their rooms.

The apartment complex was surprisingly small, though in retrospect that was to be expected given that only 15 people would be living there. The complex consisted of two buildings adjacent to one another, one of which was for the boys and the other one being for the girls. Each building contained the aforementioned apartments, a game room and a common room. There was also a nearby park, as well as various stores and local businesses.

After being dropped off outside of the apartment complex, the participants separated into two groups and headed to their assigned buildings. Saihara and Momota stuck together, practically inseparable as best friends, while Ouma trailed behind, vaguely following them.

The three of them eventually arrived at their apartment, which was located at the very end of the hall. Upon entering, Ouma observed that the apartment was well furnished and quite spacious, containing a living room and a kitchen adjacent to one another, with a bedroom off to the side, and inside the bedroom was the door to the bathroom.

Throwing his bag down on the floor, Ouma immediately set to exploring his surroundings. The living room contained a large couch with an average sized television right across from it, accompanied by light brown carpeting and a coffee table. The kitchen was also visible from there, and it contained all of the basic kitchen necessities: a stove, oven, microwave, counters, a dinner table with four seats, and a kitchen island with some stools on one side of it.

Venturing further into the apartment, Ouma couldn’t help but let out an excited gasp upon seeing the bedroom. On the right side of the room was a single person bed, and on the left side of the room was a bunk bed which, of course, was practically begging Ouma to occupy the top bunk. He immediately dashed towards it, climbing up the ladder and making his way towards the top.

“Woah! Ouma!” Momota’s voice rang throughout the bedroom as he entered, watching Ouma eagerly climb the ladder. Saihara only chuckled at his childish antics.

“Back off, Momota-chan! This bed is mine!” Ouma had reached the top of the bunk bed, lying on it face down and sprawling his limbs out. “And you can’t have the bottom bunk either! That space is reserved for my beloved Saihara-chan!” He grinned at them, propping his chin up on his palm.

“Wha- You can’t just go around making decisions like that for us!” Momota protested, “I bet Shuichi doesn’t even wanna share the bunk bed with you!”

Saihara frantically waved his hands in an attempt to calm Momota down, “It’s fine, Momota-kun! I don’t mind at all, really!”

Momota clicked his tongue in annoyance, Ouma giving a small “nishishi” in victory before climbing down from the top bunk.

The trio then brought their belongings into the bedroom, unpacking whatever few things they had brought from the hospital. Ouma’s belongings mostly consisted of silly drawings he made in his free time, along with other basic items like clothes and toiletries. He haphazardly shoved all of his belongings into the top drawer of a dresser, not really taking the time to make everything neat and organized.

It was already evening by the time they were all finished unpacking, the day passing by rather quickly as they all relocated to their new place of living. Just as Ouma was about to sit down on the couch and watch some television in the living room, he was stopped by Momota.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Momota asked, “We’ve got training to do!” He grinned, pounding his fists together. Saihara was also standing with him, sheepishly smiling at Ouma.

“Training? What the hell does that mean?” Ouma questioned, clearly confused.

“Every night during the killing game, Momota-kun and Harukawa-san and I would do training in the courtyard together so that we could get stronger… though if I recall correctly, Momota-kun did more talking than actually training.” Saihara remarked slyly.

Ouma eyed Momota skeptically, who spluttered in defending himself.

“W-Well I was already the strongest one there, so I didn’t need to train as much as you guys! That’s why!” Momota shook his head indignantly as he spoke, while Saihara just laughed it off. “Maki Roll won’t be joining us for training tonight, and since you’re one of my sidekicks now it’s your responsibility to show up and train with us!”

“First of all, I’m not your sidekick!” Ouma protested, “Second of all, where do you guys even plan on doing this? I don’t recall this place having a courtyard or whatever for you guys to do your dumb training in.”

“Actually, there’s a park right across the street from this place! It’s perfect!” Momota beamed like an overly excited puppy. “So c’mon, what’re you waiting for!”

Knowing that Momota wouldn’t give up until he got a yes for an answer, Ouma conceded.

“Fiiiine…” Ouma sighed, “I’ll go to the park with you guys. But just this one time!”

“Great! Now let’s go!” Momota cheered.

Ouma rolled his eyes, resigning himself to his fate.

It was only one night… How bad could it be?

~~~~~~~~~~

“Twenty-one… Twenty-two… Twenty-three!” Saihara grunted, diligently doing his push ups.

To his left, Momota was, surprisingly, doing his push ups as well, while Ouma was to his right, picking at the blades of grass beneath them. To be fair, Ouma did genuinely try doing his push ups, but after about four or five he got tired and opted to lay down on his stomach and relax instead.

“Ouma, what gives? I don’t see you doing any push ups!” Momota stopped doing his own push ups to momentarily scold Ouma, giving himself a small break. “I thought you said you would workout with us!”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong Momota-chan!” Ouma chirped, “I said I would go to the park with you, not that I would do your stupid training!”

“You little-!” Momota began, only to be cut off by Saihara.

“That doesn’t mean you can take a break, Momota-kun! I’m the only one doing any training here!” Saihara spoke through labored breaths, straining through his exercise.

“Wow, Saihara-chan is super strong! Not like wimpy ol’ Momota-chan over there!” Ouma teased, glancing in Momota’s direction.

“Hey! Who are you calling a wimp?!” Momota took the bait, not realizing that Ouma was intentionally provoking him.

“Nishishi, I thought Momota-chan was all muscle and no brains, but it turns out he’s neither!” Ouma taunted.

“That’s it!” Momota sat up, fuming. “I’ll show you who’s a wimp!”

“Momota-kun, wait!” Anticipating the worst, Saihara attempted to deter Momota’s next actions.

But it was too late.

Ouma let out a yelp and scrambled to his feet in order to get away, but Momota caught up to him and put him in a solid headlock.

“What the hell?” Ouma tried prying Momota’s arm from around his neck, but it was no use. “Get off of me!”

“Take back what you said about me!” Momota smirked.

“Wh- Huh?” Ouma stopped struggling momentarily, processing Momota’s words. “No way!”

“Maybe this’ll convince ya!” He started ruffling Ouma’s hair with his free hand, giving him an old-fashioned noogie.

“Stop!” Ouma protested, clawing at Momota’s arm.

“Momota-kun! Don’t…” Saihara interjected, but trailed off once he realized that both Momota and Ouma had huge smiles on their faces, laughing at how ridiculous and childish they were acting.

Saihara couldn’t help but laugh too.

They bickered with each other for a while longer before Ouma finally conceded despite his stubbornness.

“See? That wasn’t so bad!” Momota grinned.

“Ugh…” Ouma pouted, smoothing his hair back down. “You’re the worst.”

“We should probably head back now.” Saihara suggested, looking up at the sky. “It’s getting pretty dark out.”

“Damn, already?” Momota followed suit, observing the quickly darkening sky. “But we just got here!”

“Unless you want to stay here and finish your hundred push ups.” Saihara remarked.

“Uh…” Momota stammered, “I already did a few hundred push ups this morning, so I’m already good!”

“Now that’s definitely a lie.” Ouma linked his hands behind his head, walking away. The other two followed, heading back to the apartment complex.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ouma tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. He rolled onto his side, trying to avoid facing the crushing reality right in front of him, but it was no use.

He opened his eyes.

It was dark. An obvious statement considering the fact that all three of them decided to go to bed, turning off all the lights save for the nightlight in the corner of the room. Peering over the edge of the top bunk he could see the nightlight, shining brightly in its designated spot. He could also see Momota, who was fast asleep and snoring quite loudly.

Ouma was feeling restless, wanting to adjust his position by turning over and facing the wall instead. But doing that required momentarily laying on his back and- even if only for a split second- facing the ceiling. Squeezing his eyes shut, Ouma braced himself to do just that.

Three… Two…

“You’re alone Ouma-kun, and you always will be.”

One.

His eyes shot open, but the pitch black darkness didn’t help the image of the hydraulic press looming over him dissipate from his mind. With a sharp inhale he sat up as much as he could (which wasn’t very much), jerking his body forward.

The feeling of the cold metal of the hydraulic press on his back despite laying on Momota’s galaxy-printed jacket…

The sensation of tears gently streaming down his cheeks as he prepared himself for his death…

And the recollection of how alone he felt…

All of it was coming back.

Blinking rapidly, Ouma tried to clear the tears from his eyes as he sniffled and trembled.

That’s right. No one wants you here anyway. They all hated you from the start, before you committed to that stupid evil persona of yours. No one cares that you died. You’re alone and you always have b-

“...Ouma-kun?” Saihara’s gentle voice rang throughout the silence of the room, startling Ouma.

Not wanting to be heard crying, he rubbed at his eyes harshly and stifled his breathing.

“It’s okay, it’s just me.” The sound of Saihara getting up from his bed could be heard, followed by a short pause. “Do you wanna… talk?”

No response.

“Please just… come down from there, I…” Saihara whispered, “I think I already know what the problem is.”

After hesitating for a moment, Ouma complied with Saihara’s request, climbing down from the top bunk.

“I wasn’t crying, just so you know.” Ouma stated blankly, despite his sniffling.

“Is it okay if I…?” Saihara tentatively reached out, placing a hand on Ouma’s shoulder. The other boy nodded, giving Saihara permission to pull him in closer for a tight hug.

Moments passed by in silence, Saihara simply hugging Ouma in an attempt to bring some comfort to him. Whether it was due to the tenderness of the gesture or the lack of sleep, Ouma broke down into another crying fit, sobbing into Saihara’s chest.

“It’s okay…” Saihara rubbed soothing circles into the small of his back, whispering comforting words into his ear. “Everything’s gonna be okay, I’m here for you.”

Ouma’s sobs eventually died down, leaving him weakly hugging Saihara, seeking for confirmation that he was real. Saihara pulled back ever so slightly, looking down at Ouma.

“Do you…” Saihara whispered, cautiously checking to make sure Momota was still asleep. “Do you want to switch beds for now?”

Ouma nodded, letting Saihara guide him to his bed. He chewed on his lip in thought, sitting on the edge of the bed rather than tucking himself in. Just as Saihara was about to walk over to the ladder leading to the top bunk, Ouma reached out and lightly tugged on his arm.

“O-Ouma-kun?” Saihara stuttered, a bit taken aback.

Ouma gave his arm another light tug, pulling him even closer.

“Ouma-kun, what is it?” Saihara asked.

“...Stay with me?” Ouma’s voice was barely audible, a faint whisper in the darkness.

After taking a moment to process those words, Saihara stepped towards Ouma and joined him on the bed. He grabbed the other boy’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Of course.”

#postmortem #my writing #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #kokichi oma #kokichi ouma #shuichi saihara #kaito momota #saiouma #oumasai

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vannahfanfics · 4 years

Text

The Measure of a Good Hero

Category: Hurt and Comfort

Characters: Shota Aizawa, Izuku Midoriya

Pain … Blinding pain pulsed across Shota’s face like red-hot lava as he lay prone on the ground. No, not lay; he was pressed, crushed against the pavement with hot sticky blood flowing out of his mouth and nose to smear across his cheek. The gray-haired young villain’s high-pitched cackles bounced inside his ears, only adding to the skull-splitting pounding in his head. Shota’s vision blurred as his brain withered under the assault, and he lapsed into unconsciousness no matter how much he told himself to hold on, hold on, hold on…

Shota jerked upright in bed with a gasp. The ghost of the searing pain ebbed into a dull ache as the remnants of his shattered eye socket lamented with phantom trauma. It took a few moments for Shota to recognize that he was not at the USJ but safe in his bed in the U.A. dormitory.

His heaving breaths slowly mellowed, the cold sweat slowly dwindled to coat him in a layer of perspiration, and his constricted pupils slowly dilated as his eyelids drifted over them. With an agonized groan, he drew his hand over his face.

“Damn...”

Shota’s muscles felt as if he’d boxed a gorilla. They ached and throbbed terribly, protesting as he flipped the sweat-soaked sheets off himself. The cold air blowing from the air conditioner washed over his body, allowing the sweat to sap even more heat from his system. He rubbed the bare skin of his legs as the coarse black hairs stood to attention, trying to force warmth back into his chilling body. After a few minutes, he slipped off the bed and padded barefoot out of the room towards the dormitory kitchen.

The moon streamed through the row of floor-to-ceiling glass windows framing the wall of the living room. The bushes lining the building gleamed like polished malachite as the stark contrasts of darkness and light clashed in their leaves. The wind whistled through the boughs of the skinny trees scattered across the courtyard to flicker against the windows like moths flapping at an illuminated dull yellow lightbulb. A peaceful night, for all intents and purposes…

A peaceful night for everyone but Shota that is.

Shota rubbed at his aching eye as he used his other hand to rifle blindly through a cabinet. Occasionally, he’d pluck a box from the depths to squint critically at it, using the soft white light to read the labels. After several failed attempts, he finally secured his desired midnight snack- chamomile tea.

Though Hizashi and Nemuri gave him hell for it, Shota consumed almost as much tea as coffee. He’d taken to natural sleep supplements after melatonin pills had failed to lull him into a decent night’s rest. Their resident tea connoisseur, Momo Yaoyorozu, had enlightened him to more adventurous blends of brewable sleeping droughts, but this night he settled for the classic.

Shota procured a random mug from the cabinet (Izuku’s, judging from the All Might hero suit patterning) and filled it with tap water before popping it into the microwave. Through baggy, lidded eyes, he watched the colorful cup spin slowly in the appliance, all while swinging the bag of tea lazily around his finger. The seconds counted down one by one, and he focused on the depleting neon figures, lest his nightmare seep back into his mind to haunt his waking life too.

A small squeak made Shota straighten up and squint into the depths of the living room. Through the shroud of darkness cloaking most of the room, Shota caught a glimpse of wild pine-green bedhead and gleaming emerald eyes.

“Midoriya,” Shota drawled in recognition. He looked back to the rotating mug in the microwave, trying to use it to distract from the humming in his nerves. Though the logical part of Shota knew that the odds of being attacked in a school dormitory in the wee hours of the night were slim to none, adrenaline has still gushed through his bloodstream upon sensing the young boy enter. His tensed fist slowly uncurled as he forced himself to relax, and he watched out of the corners of his eyes as the bashful Izuku shuffled into the room.

“Up late grading papers, sir?” Izuku asked with a wavery smile as he pulled open a cabinet. He bee-lined for the box of animal crackers on the top shelf, pulling down the red box along with a small plastic bowl.

“Not exactly,” Shota huffed in amusement. For several moments, the only sounds in the kitchen were the crackling of the plastic bag of animal crackers, the cookie-like snacks thudding against the bottom of the bowl as Izuku poured them, and the consistent humming of the appliance in front of Shota. “What are you doing awake at this hour? It’s well past curfew.”

Though Shota was mostly joking, Izuku jerked violently in surprise, spilling animal crackers all over the counter.

“W-wah! I’m sorry, sir, I just-!” Izuku babbled, hastily scooping up the scattered crackers to dump them in the bowl. “I just- I, um…” As he trailed off, his movements slowed until his hand rested on the counter, still clutching several of the snacks. “I… Had a nightmare about the summer camp incident…”

Shota watched Izuku through half-closed but scrutinizing eyes. Izuku’s fist clenched, cracking the cookies into small pieces as he stared glassily at the bowl of animal crackers as if it were now a foreign object. “I dreamed that… it went a lot worse than it did, and…” Izuku clenched his fists so tight that his scarred knuckles glared white in the gloom. “I couldn’t protect anyone.”

Even in the sparse lighting, Shota could see the frustrated tears blooming in the corners of Izuku’s eyes. The microwave beeped shrilly in Shota’s ear to herald the boiling of his mug of water. Shota inhaled sharply, then exhaled deeply and turned to busy himself with pulling out the piping-hot cup of water to dunk the bag of chamomile tea into it. As the yellow-gold flavoring diffused through the clear liquid, Shota idly stirred the bag around to speed up the steeping.

“I know how you feel,” he said after several moments. He kept his back to Izuku, continuously drawing the teabag around the bottom rim of the mug, but he could feel the boy’s widened eyes on him. “That’s one of the scariest feelings… That you can’t protect the people that you care about.” He reached up, ghosting his fingertips over the crescent moon-shaped scar decorating the underside of his eye.

Shota had grappled with that fear for such a very long time. It never seemed to leave him. As soon as he thought perhaps that he’d been able to move on, to grow strong enough that he didn’t need to be afraid before, reality reared its ugly head to squash him back into the dirt. Sometimes, quite literally.

“Do you have nightmares too, Mr. Aizawa?”

Shota smiled wryly, finally glancing over his shoulder to look at Izuku. The boy watched him adamantly; doubt and a need for reassurance swam in his bright green irises. Shota may not be the cuddliest, most fatherly man alive, but he was a teacher. Consolation was something he could attempt to give, at least.

“Of course I do,” he said, turning so that his back now pressed against the counter. One elbow propped loosely against the tile, while his other bent in the air as he rubbed the nape of his neck. His eye twinged with phantom pain, remembering once more the feeling of his bones shattering against cracking concrete. “Anyone in this line of work who tells you otherwise is a liar.”

Izuku let out a tiny chuckle, and it seemed like his expression brightened just a bit. Shota smiled as he looked down at his tea. The golden brew had blended through the hot water. He grabbed a bottle of honey and stirred a spoonful of it into the tea. When he sipped it, the sweet flavor of the honey and the muted tone of chamomile spread over his tongue, filling him with a warm sense of calm.

He turned back to Izuku, holding up the All Might mug and supping casually at his beverage. With a wry smile, he tapped the edge of the cheesy smile adorning the bottom half of the cup.

“Take All Might, for example. I know for a fact that he has nightmares.”

Izuku’s face scrunched up in a mix of amusement and disbelief.

“No way!” the boy laughed and waved a hand dismissively at Shota. “He’s All Might !” However, as realization dawned on him, his entertained smile sagged into a sad one. “Though I guess… He has been through a lot, especially recently. I guess there has to be at least one thing that he regrets, and that haunts him…”

“Of course. Being the Symbol of Peace doesn’t make him perfect.” Shota shrugged. He then smiled when Izuku looked at him with knitted eyebrows. “Midoriya, the measure of a good hero isn’t how few mistakes you make or how few regrets you have.”

The mug gently clinked as Shota set it down on the counter. He walked over to Izuku to gently clap a hand on his shoulder, and the boy looked up at him with big emerald eyes. “The measure of a good hero is how well you can bear the burden of your mistakes and regrets, and how you can make them right by doing better.”

Izuku’s forest-green eyes stared intently into Shota’s face for several seconds as he articulated the solemn statement. Slowly, his head dropped until his chin dropped down against his chest.

“Yeah… I… I think I get it, Mr. Aizawa,” he whispered with a small nod. Shota smiled and patted Izuku on the shoulder, then snagged a few of the animal crackers to pop them into his mouth. As he sauntered off toward his room, swirling the chamomile tea and crunching on the sweet cookies, he shoved a hand in the pocket of his pajama bottoms. After a few steps, he stopped and looked back at Izuku, who had gone back to staring blankly at the bowl of animal crackers.

“Midoriya, you still have a long way to go,” Shota reminded him with an endeared smile. It was almost cute, how insanely ambitious his class of students was. Cute, but a headache and a handful sometimes when they got too intent on growing up too fast. “Take those feelings you have now, and use them to grow stronger.”

Clarity flooded Izuku’s dull eyes, returning that determined little gleam that Shota admired so much about the kid. He turned back to Shota with a bright smile.

“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!”

“Great talk. Now, off to bed with you. I don’t want to hear complaints that you’re tired tomorrow.”

“Of course, sir!”

Izuku went to scamper off, making Shota chuckle.

“Midoriya, your animal crackers?”

Izuku whirled on his socks to see his bowl of crackers still perched on the counter, untouched and forgotten.

“Oh, right! Th-thank you!” he laughed sheepishly and scurried back to retrieve his midnight snack. Shota watched warmly as he scampered off, munching on the animal crackers and muttering self-motivating blathers under his breath. Shota took a healthy swig of the chamomile tea; it blended with his improved mood to stimulate the drowsiness currently rising in his system. “Goodnight, Mr. Aizawa!” Izuku’s hushed shout floated down the stairs several yards away. Shota snorted and turned to retreat back into the darkness of his bedroom.

“Sleep well, Midoriya. Pleasant dreams.”

As Shota collapsed on his bed, the finished mug of chamomile tea resting on his nightstand, he actually felt secure for once that he’d be gifted with pleasant dreams, too.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#shota aizawa #aizawa shota #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha fanfic #bnha fanfic

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sphericaldice · 4 years

Text

We Have Not Touched The Stars Nor Are We Forgiven (aka The One Where Ishimaru Jacks Off With Oowada Butter)

( ‘́⌣’̀) Ao3 (˘̩̩ε˘̩ƪ)

Summary: Ishimaru Kiyotaka handles grief and love the best way he knows how, poorly.

Author Comments: Just gonna come out and say it, this is a darkfic lol. If you’re not in to that, then you may wanna skip this one. This fic is also r-18 so younuns please come back later!

Reblog if you like what I write and check out my Ao3 ㋛

SPOILERS FOR DANGANROMPA TRIGGER HAPPY HAVOC ***

“Wh-whoops...I slipped...Sorry, man.”

“Sorry, man.” Was all the Biker could muster, gazing away from Kiyotaka and his remaining classmates. Though his face was veiled by his unkempt pompadour, tears crept down his visage and dripped from his chin, making their presence known to everyone.

Ishimaru Kiyotaka didn’t remember who he voted for instead of Mondo, it wasn’t a conscious election. It could have been Byakuya, Hifumi, Yasuhiro, Aoi, Celestia, dead Chihiro, Touko the harbourer of a blade-wielding maniac, or Makoto, who shot down every last one of his feeble rebuttals, just anyone, anything but his Aniki. Kiyotaka’s final bid to save Oowada Mondo was predictably trivial. No one listened to him because no one loved like him. That had to be it, none of his classmates had a bro they made a promise too. That’s how they could be so blind and imperturbable. So wrong. It was all wrong.

The bilious cackling of the mechanical ursine wrang in Kiyotaka’s ears “Pupupupupu! Punishment time!” it squawked with excitement that mocked the mournful courtroom.

Kiyotaka staggered forward, towards a detached Mondo who wouldn’t meet his tear-drowned eyes. The Ultimate Moral Compas didn’t get very far before Sakura swiftly encapsulated him in a bear hug. He watched the boy, the bear, and the bike pull off in the direction of an enormous metal cage embezzled with wooden tiger cut-outs.

Gunk from his nose stained his quivering lips as he cried out “Wait! I’m asking you to just wait, please!” Kiyotaka spurted in place, hopelessly retrained by the Ultimate Fighter.

Sakura tightened her grip “You fool! Do you want to be dragged off as well?” she snapped but her usually husky and authoritative voice was brittle.

Kiyotaka clawed unprofitably at Sakura’s thick, brown, arms. If he could just break free he would fly ahead and save his innocent best friend. But he was not strong enough. “Why won’t you wait!? I’m begging you to listen to me!”

Sakura groaned and hung her head, and at that moment Kiyotaka felt dampness against his hair.

The execution couldn’t have been more than a minute. Sakura attempted to shift her arms in a way that allowed her to cover Kiyotaka’s eyes but he would not allow it. He watched, sangria eyes bulging, as the tiger-adorned contraption began to spin Mondo around and around. Even from a safe distance, he could see, take in Aniki’s face, first stained with regret and then completely deformed by consternation as the machine gathered unbelievable speed. Kiyotaka witnessed the moment Aniki’s neck snapped from whiplash and he was beyond anything he could’ve done to save him. Seconds later the man Kiyotaka loved was a jet-black blemish on the cage’s steel tracks and the bitter scent of smoke bombarded his nostrils. It was over. Or so he thought.

There was a sharp ting akin to an old fashioned microwave and the machine expelled something that resembled a pint of yoghurt. The cream coloured container slid across the checkered linoleum and landed at Fukawa Touko’s feet. The haggard girl did her best impression of a cat vomiting and stumbled backwards into Asahina Aoi who reacted with a high-pitched yelp once she saw what had spooked Touko.

“W-what is that!?” stammered the tanned swimmer, covering her mouth with a quivering palm.”

“Haa...Haa...Consider it a souvenir for Captain Morals over there, pupupupupu!” Monukuma replied between pants, he was exhausted from his impromptu hula-hoop routine.

Sakura released Kiyotaka and he clambered over to the two girls, hastily despite his legs feeling like lead. The boy fell to his knees, snatching up the container. He stared blankly at the lid and stern, smokey eyes stared back at him. It was Aniki. By then a few other classmates had gathered around him, anxious to see what was causing such a commotion.

Naegi Makoto leered over Kiyotaka’s shoulders and read the pint’s label aloud. “‘Oowada Butter’..? What the hell, Monokuma, that’s too horrible! You can’t just turn our friend into...butter!”

“Pupupupu, Oh but I can! And I have a feeling something beary interesting is going to happen tonight!” The bear vanished, marking the end of the trial.

Students filed into the crimson elevator, some looking rather ill, all completely silent. Kiyotaka felt a large hand on his shoulder and glanced skyward at the tower of a woman before him.

“Come now, friend, we do not want to miss the elevator,” Sakura said, regarding him kindly. On her other arm, Aoi clung for dear life. “We will walk you back to your room.”

He allowed Sakura to drag him from the courtroom.

***

They sullen group strolled wordlessly for what felt like aeons to Kiyotaka and arrived outside his room a few minutes before 10 pm.

Sakura’s low voice cut the thick silence, “Would you like Asahina and I to stay over tonight?”

“No. That would be improper.”

“It’s fine, really,” Aoi chimed, “Ogami-chan and I have had plenty of sleepovers when I need someone!”

If this were any other evening Kiyotaka would’ve delivered a choice lecture onto Asahina Aoi and her muscular...cohort, but tonight he said nothing. Without replying he reached for his door, but a hand on his shoulder froze his motion.

“Wait, Ishimaru.” Sakura addressed him firmly, but there was an underlying softness and compassion in her voice. “What do plan to do with that?”

He knew immediately what she was referring to. He tightened his grip on the container. “I am going to keep it.”

“Whoa, are you sure? Just because that bear didn’t mess with the doughnuts or any of our other food doesn’t mean he didn’t poison that butter!” Aoi exclaimed, bringing a hand to her ample chest.

Kiyotaka clenched his teeth. “I’m not going to eat it!” He trudged into his room slamming the door behind them before either girl could interject with anything else.

He did not turn on the lights, opting instead to stand in the doorway of his black room for a while. Aoi and Sakura were likely calling out to him from behind the door, but the soundproof walls helped him blot the concerned pair from his mind. He hated Ogami Sakura and Asahina Aoi. He hated all of his classmates who had allowed Aniki to die. He hated Monokuma. He hated Fujisaki Chihiro because she was with Aniki and he wasn’t. He hated so much that his head spun. Monokuma’s nightly announcement aired and ended with Kiyotaka paying no mind to it. Eventually, he shuffled towards his bed, took a weary seat, and set the Oowada Butter on the adjacent drawer. He undressed to his briefs, socks and undershirt, in the dark, leaving his uniform to rest atop his boots on the floor. He knew it would wrinkle this way. He paid it no mind tonight. He swung his leg on to the bed, one at a time, mechanically, and let himself collapse. Laying there, Kiyotaka felt oddly restive. This was his typical bedtime, but his racing mind refused to align with his exhausted body, sleep would not grant him escape from this nightmare. He wanted desperately to will himself unconscious but every time he shut his eyes he saw Mondo’s neck snap. Again and again and again and again and-

The teen bolted upright and urgently switched on the bedside lamp. To his relief, he discovered the butter was right where he left it. He snatched up the container, taking the time to thoroughly examine it in the dim lamplight, reading all labels aloud in a shaky murmur. “Oowada Butter...Yankee Bread...Mondo...Two times the fat...80 kilograms...Keep refrigerated.” He gingerly turned the container on its side and read through the serving size, caloric total, nutritional facts, making his way to the ingredient summary,

“Ingredients:...despair...cream...natural Oowada flavouring...salt...contains milk.”

The final warning text in bold stuck out to Kiyotaka. ‘Aniki doesn’t have any milk..?’ A feathery tingle engulfed his half-naked body and he chuckled joylessly at the thought for reasons he was unsure of. He lay back down, holding the container close.

“Aniki,” he addressed his best friend’s face on the plastic lid, “you’re not really gone, are you..?” Then he peeled back the plastic lid to gaze upon the thick, cornsilk coloured expanse.

‘Just because that bear didn’t mess with the doughnuts or any of our other food doesn’t mean he didn’t poison that butter!’

- He pushed Aoi’s voice to the back of his brain until it was completely muffled as if she were speaking from underwater.

The lid was off and placed beside him, Mondo side up. He breathed anxiously, excitedly as he ran his right index finger through the butter, collecting a fair amount of it on the length.

‘Whoa, are you sure? Just because that bear didn’t mess with-’

Kiyotaka shoved his butter covered finger between his lips and into his mouth. His bright eyes widened the second it met his taste buds. Never in his life had he tasted something so rich and creamy and salty. Never in his life had he tasted Oowada Mondo. He sucked his finger clean in one greedy slurp.

“Aniki…” He breathed the title, plaintively, “you’re not really gone, are you…?”

This time he collected a large amount with two unsteady fingers and inserted them deliberately into his hungry mouth. Carefully he slid the fingers in and out, savouring the unique flavour until his fingers were clean. He swallowed, then repeated this a second time, and a third time. But by the third time he began to experience a strong foreign sensation. His body grew hot and restless, and his heart throbbed and tumbled in his chest. Kiyotaka was vaguely familiar with the concept of lust and arousal but had never given in to those sort of thoughts. He was the Ultimate Public Morales Committee Member, and it would be unbecoming of him. So he’d push the rare moments of desire to the back of his mind and drown it with push-ups and Tai-chi, and homework and lectures. But never had he encountered want and need so agonising. And never had he felt so hopeless.

Kiyotaka groaned and whispered with his mouth full “Ahhhh, Aniki...What do I do, Aniki?”

With little thought, almost automatically, he scooped a small handful of butter with his left hand, slipped it into his tank top and slid a cold, buttered palm up the front of his chest until he found a nipple. He expelled several short and fast breathes as he encircled the sensitive thing with the heel of his palm then suddenly pinched it.

“Shit!” Kiyotaka hissed, nearly biting down on his own fingers.

He wasn’t sure why he did that, it wasn’t something he’d ever thought to have done to himself. Regardless, the flustered boy yearned for more of this intense contact. Whatever had come over him, he craved more. By now the container was about half of its original contents. With both hands, he seized more of the decadent treat and began to feed his carnal hunger. His left palm slid smoothly up his chest to tend to his neglected right nipple all while three fingers on his right hand made love to his mouth, vigorously sliding in and out, overwhelming him with the taste of cream and saline. He resented the rest of his hand for not fitting into his mouth and preventing him to slide his three fingers further back, allowing him to gag on his Aniki. Kiyotaka relished in Aniki’s thickness and flavour, his toes curled and he crossed his legs, attempting to quench the new throbbing between his thighs. It wasn’t enough. He found his slick right hand had fallen from his mouth and was collecting a copious amount of butter, leaving it near depleted. His eyes grew wet as he pushed aside the cloth flap of his briefs and freed his arousal. Panting frantically he gripped the base of his shaft and slid up and down, meticulously spreading Aniki down this full erect length until slick with softened butter. More butter was collected with three fingers from his left hand and those fingers were subsequently thrust into his mouth. He drove his hips forward into his hand in hurried, desperate movements. Feeling Aniki. Tasting Aniki. Right now there was nobody else, just him and Aniki as one, for eternity. Without warning, Kiyotaka’s entire body clenched and he felt so light in the head that he wondered if he were floating above his sweat-drenched sheets.

“What’s...hah...pening?” he sputtered between hastening breaths.

His eyes fluttered shut and for a moment he saw The Ultimate Biker Gang Leader shrouded in a curious, artificial green light, leering at him with those cold grey jewels for eyes. Oowada Mondo’s thin brows were knit in characteristic assurance and his lips were curled into a slight smirk.

“Aniki…” The title of the man he loved dribbled from his lips as he came in long, pearl coloured spurts.

The Ultimate Moral Compass lay there in the aftermath of his ecstasy, stained in sweat, butter and semen, finally able to catch his breath. He reached into the container once more, only for his soiled fingers to be met with plastic. Emptiness. Kiyotaka beamed in spite of the rivers that flowed from his sangria pools.

He rolled over to face the lid that bore Oowada Mondo’s image and spoke to it. “There’s nothing they can do now, Aniki. We really will be together forever. I promise.”

And right then there really was no one else in the world but The Ultimate Public Morals Committee Member, his Aniki, and the girl who watched him through the surveillance camera in his bedroom.

#fanfiction #lemon #Danganrompa #Kiyotaka Ishimaru #mondo oowada #kiyotaka x mondo #death #spoilers #2k words #explict #angst #danganrompa trigger happy havoc #slight canon divergence

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muchlovetinyhouse · 3 years

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Gorgeous Rustic Modern Tiny House For Rent w Chefs Kitchen

About this space

The Northside Tiny House is a brand new tiny house in Japantown/Downtown San Jose. It’s the perfect location in the heart of the Silicon Valley: close to public transportation, and highways. If you’ve ever wanted to try out tiny living or are just looking for a beautiful place to stay at an affordable price, this is the place for you! Unlike some studio apartments, our house has a FULL CHEF'S KITCHEN, 3-piece bathroom and all the amenities you need for a perfect stay. Perfect for 1-2 people.The spaceHave an entire house to yourself for the price of a single room! The Northside Tiny House is a newly built, pinterest-worthy, modern rustic tiny house in the heart of the Silicon Valley in Down Town San Jose (just next to Japantown). The house features everything you’d want in a vacation house, just scaled down to fit into 250 square feet. The perfect location for business or pleasure, the Northside Tiny House is just 10 minutes from the San Jose airport, within minutes of highways 880, 87 and freeways 101 and 280/680, and bikeable to all major public transportations (Bus, Lightrail, Caltrain). Also within walking distance of restaurants, grocery stores, coffee shops and shopping in Japantown, and 2 blocks from a huge park with basketball, playgrounds and walking track, or 7 blocks from a park with tennis courts and handball walls.

Perfect for single person or couple. The sofa bed if available bust best suited for children as it is on the smaller/fuctional side.

House Amenities:

-Fully Equipped Chef’s Kitchen: 4 burner stove + oven, microwave, dishwasher, 3/4 apartment fridge + freezer with all the pots, pans and dishes you need to prepare an awesome dinner. We have all the basics you need for cooking and baking as well.

-Stocked 3 Piece Bathroom: 32” x 32” Shower, sink, toilet (with running water), plus toiletries

-Connected Home: Wifi and 30” Smart TV are available to use

-Dining for 2-3: The coffee table in the living room transforms into a dining table using the sofa as 2 seats and lux folding chairs for the other 2 seats.

-Sleeps 4 total (best suited for 1-2 Adults): There is a lux queen memory foam mattress in the sleeping loft and the sofa converts into a little wider and little shorter than a twin bed. The sofa bed is functional, not the comfiest, best suited for children.

-Light, Airy & Spacious Feeling: The house is 8.5 X 22 feet with a 8’ X 9’ sleeper loft. 10 windows including 2 skylights paired with a totally open concept make for great natural light and leave the space feeling much larger than it is. The rustic modern design aesthetic paired with lux finishes make for a great stay.

-All the Comforts of Home: We want you to feel at home! To make you stay more comfortable we’ve put together some amenities that we think you’ll enjoy including:

---Filtered drinking water

---Assorted snacks

---Assorted beverages

---Coffee, tea and hot cocoa

---Cooking Supplies: oil, salt, pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, red chili flakes

---Baking Supplies: Flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, coconut oil spray

---Toiletries: shampoo, conditioner, body wash, toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, mouthwash, q-tips, cotton balls

---Soft & Clean Towels & Sheets

---Plenty of pillows

--AC & Cooling: Portable AC unit available upon request (pic in listing). 3 fans and a screen on the front door also avialable for cooler daysGuest accessThe tiny house is fully detached and private and is located in the driveway adjacent to the main house on the property (about a 1/2 foot in between properties). Guests have full access to the tiny house and the immediate front yard. The rest of the property is off limits.Other things to noteTiny House Living:

Like the title suggest, our house is set up and feels like a tiny house (read more about the tiny house movement here). This means there are some special/non-standard small-space features that are worth calling out:

-Transforming Table: The table is multifunctional and can be used as a desk or dining table for 4 (using the couch as 2 seats and chairs as the other two)

-Sleeper Sofa: To utilize the second sofa you will need to move the table (which is on wheels) to the side. When sleeper sofa is open you can’t open the front door.

-There are stairs up to the loft, however they are a bit steeper and narrower than your average stairs and don’t have an inside rail (so if you have kids you’ll need to watch them

-The headspace on the sleeping loft is 3.5 feet. This means you won’t be able to stand up in the loft and unless you are petite you likely won’t be able to fully sit up in the bed.

-The toilet in the bathroom is standard sized however the legroom in front is narrower than typical.

-The hot water heater is small (7.5 galoons) so you will have hot water but it's limmited. It reheats in about 10-20 mins.

-Portable AC unit available

-Maximum height for use under the loft without having to bend over is 6'4" or 1.93 meters

-The house is totally private, but located in the driveway right next to our house and it build on top of tiny house trailer. There are also frosted windows and sky lights without covers so it's not pitch black at night. If you like no light at all we recommend bringing an eye mask.

Because space is limited in our tiny house, we keep extras in house. Please let us know how many people you will have so we can ensure the house it set up with enough towels and linens.

The house is located in a neighborhood that is made of families, up-an-coming professionals, and a few folks who are original owners. Occasionally on the weekends there will be parties with live music and occasionally there are other loud noises, but we provide earplugs if needed.

We have external security cameras.

Last - we don't book single night stays until 3 weeks or less to the booking date.

#tiny house for rent

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