#blonde mochi
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byzeloforzelo · 2 years ago
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[221205] Twitter update |X|
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1000dactyls · 4 months ago
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if they were gonna give tuffnut that hairstyle in rtte-onward then they shouldnt have made him #ffffff
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musubiki · 1 year ago
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once again thinking about limes very quick descent into madness surrounding the time when he realizes he might like mochi after the first night he spends cuddling with her. always love the slow start of "Okay she's kinda cute I guess. She has cute tendencies sometimes. There, you happy? I admitted it. Now leave me alone." which in the span of about 3 days RAPIDLY spills into being unable to think about anything else to the point he can barely hold a conversation with anyone because his mind keeps daydreaming back to holding her in his arms. All day feeling like "I can still feel her warmth on me..." and has to keep being snapped back to reality by everyone around him
he can barely even talk to mochi because he keeps thinking about it. has no idea what to say to her the next day. is very quiet. and mochi thinks hes mad/uncomfortable with her now, since hes always so standoffish to girls at school she thinks she might be in that category now. so the next night while lime is about to go to bed, STILL THINKING ABOUT IT, and he gets a text from her that reads something like: [Hey lime!! about last night- sorry i fell asleep on you!! i know your not super comfortable with that stuff!! it wont happen again!! 🙇‍♀️ see you tomorrow!] and he feels his heart drop to his fucking stomach. lays there reading it back over and over with his thoughts a mix of "Yeah I guess that makes sense, it happened by accident. It was never gonna be a repetitive thing." vs "Won't happen again...? Like....ever? Are you fucking kidding me? I never get that ever again?"
eventually after an hour of tossing and turning, thinks up some bullshit excuse to sneak over to her house and climb up over her little bedroom balcony, knocks on her window and says something like "Hey uhhh you forgot one of your socks over at my place so I brought it back." or something that is absolutely stupid and could've definitely waited for the next day. manages to weasel his way into crawling into her bed with her because every bone in his body is telling him to.
huheuheu love to see lime aching for her eheheh
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marshmelia · 1 month ago
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Moooreee OLD aaaarrrrrttttt
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shapinginvisible · 1 year ago
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Park Jimin is art
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kpop-bbg · 1 year ago
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hajimesh · 10 days ago
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mama's day. gojo satoru
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fluff. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ parents au, non sorcerer au, mom!reader, family fluff, two unnamed sons and one baby girl. a little gift for myself ! ᡣ𐭩
little sunshines au
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satoru has a plan for your birthday—a very detailed one.
step one. wake up the nuggets
it takes him less than two minutes to get the oldest out of bed, and there's really no point in waking up his baby girl since there's not much an eight-month-old can do.
the problem is your toddler.
"c'moooon, don't you wanna give mama her gifts?"
satoru's tone grows exasperated the longer his son refuses to cooperate, kicking his legs and throwing his nemo plushie at his face.
"no!"
the five-year-old immediately shushes his baby brother, only making the latter whine even more, tears now running down his chubby cheeks.
satoru feels his face fall upon seeing his son so upset, he should've expected the little ones not to take it too well to be woken up at six in the morning.
"hey," he tries softly this time, caressing the soft blond hairs of his toddler, "I'm sorry, mochi. can you forgive papa? go back to sleep, I'll wake you up when breakfast is ready, okay?"
the sobs end and now there's only small sniffles coming from the sleepy kid.
"oki."
step two. make breakfast
"like this?"
satoru leans down to inspect his son's work, brows furrowing as he tries, and fails, to read whatever gibberish his son tried to spell on top of the freshly made waffles.
with a loud smooch on the kid's cheek, satoru squeezes him in a tight hug, grinning proudly the way a father would. "a masterpiece. mama's gonna love it."
dad and son work surprisingly silent, focused on their own tasks. it doesn't take them long to have plates full of food and fruits, as well as freshly made juice.
"why don't you grab these," satoru hands his son two bags with the names of expensive brands on them, "while I go get your siblings. okay?"
"on it!"
step three. gifts
"happy birthday, mama~"
"ma-ma!"
you wake up with a start, surrounded by four pairs of blue eyes staring down at you.
"happy birthday, love of my life, mother of my kids, my one and only!"
satoru pecks your mouth as your brain processes the beaming faces of your three nuggets. your boys sit next to you, one on each side, while satoru holds the baby in the air right above your face.
your confused face finally eases into one of happiness (and relief).
"thank you, my little babies!" you smile drowsily, urging yourself to blink the sleep away as you smooch the faces of all three of your children. "mwah, mwah, mwahhh–"
your husband can't help but smile upon seeing you smothering the kids with kisses. and with his hold still on his baby girl, satoru tugs her away from you and nods at your lap.
"open your gifts, baby. we got you aaaall of your favorites." he winks at his son and the little one covers his mouth behind his tiny hand, giggling. "and we also made breakfast for mama, right?"
with a pointed look from satoru, your toddler remembers the plate of food on his lap.
"eat waffu, baby." your two-year-old offers you the plate full of waffles, pushing it towards your mouth, insistent. "eat it."
step four. spoil her rotten
your two boys happily run across the gardens while your baby girl crawls on the grass, squealing right behind her brothers.
"liked the surprise?"
your husband's arms wrap around your middle from behind. his hold is the greatest comfort you could've asked for.
"you mean waking up with three of your clones staring down at me while I sleep?" you snort, but there's no real bite in your tone. "I loved it. especially their drawing of me surrounded by blue-eyed mochi."
your eldest had insisted on drawing their little family—with you right in the center—and satoru thought it'd be funny to add the mochi instead of the kids.
"oh, but I'm not done yet, sweetheart." he spins you around in his arms, now grinning at you. "an entire weekend. you and me. what do you say?"
a groan slips past your lips and he immediately frowns, indignation clear on his face.
"c'mon, pretty. it's been a while since it was just the two of us." satoru goes for the puppy eyes, knowing that by doing so he already has a fifty percent of chance of winning. "you're not only a mother, but also a wife. let your doting husband pamper you."
"and who's watching over the kids? the baby??" you try to reason, glancing at your nuggets as they giggle their little hearts out as they play together. "satoru, we can't just leave."
"sweetheart, relaaaaax. ijichi got us covered."
oh, that poor man.
you make a mental note to give nanami a call.
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wibben · 1 month ago
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Occupational Hazards
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Friends Nanami and Higuruma go on a duo mission together... and fall victim to some unexpected effects.
↳ pairing: hiromi higuruma x kento nanami
↳ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, bottom!higuruma, top!nanami, sexual tension, sex pollen, forced proximity, friends to enemies to lovers, rough anal sex, fighting, cum is lube, both a bit OOC but we can blame the pollen, generally feral behavior
↳ wc: 13,675
↳ notes: nanami art by @ hikonom on twitter, higuruma art by @ saksak_kazz on twitter. i hope you enjoy <3
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“Ah, good, you’re here too!” Higuruma greeted amiably, sauntering into the meeting room with steaming coffee in hand, the kind of shitty, bitter stuff the staff room machine spit out. But at least it woke him up, so maybe that was by design. Sleepy sorcerers were more often than not dead ones. Sinking into the cushioned couch with an early morning groan, arm draped lazily across the backrest, he sighed into the steam.
He tapped, tapped, tapped his paper cup with dancing fingers. “Actually… any idea why we’re here?”
Smack!
Nanami dropped a manila folder onto the table between them with a sharp flick, his expression tight with irritation. “This.” He muttered, the frustration clear in his voice, offering no further explanation.
Higuruma raised a sloping brow and lifted his coffee to his lips, peering pityingly over the warped plastic lid. He is not as bothered by this intrusion to the beginning of his weekend, years spent tethered to work had numbed him to the inconvenience.
Unlike Nanami, who needed it pried away and leaves it with claw marks, spitting smoke like a raging dragon, he is not as jealously possessive of his freetime. Higuruma had long since learned to surrender it with little more than a resigned sigh and a wave in the rearview mirror.
Higuruma bent forward, placing his coffee on the table and knuckled it slowly across to Nanami, the way one might endear oneself to a stray animal. He needed it more, Higuruma thought.
The silence in the room turned meditative, broken by a deep grounding breath from the other man as he watched his plans of baking, and reading, and relaxing and no responsibility turn to dust. Deep breath in… he could bake next weekend and perhaps treat himself to a new book,  luck permitting maybe he would even start it… and breathe out. It gave Nanami a moment to cool, to steady himself before—
Gojo burst into the room, all gale-force energy and unfiltered exuberance, with a complete disregard for any semblance of professionalism and ignorant of the air of resentment stewing from the rigid blonde-turned-gargoyle sitting in the chair across from him.
“Great, you’re both here!” Gojo’s voice was far too chipper for the hour. “Perfect timing. I’ve got a fun little job for you two.”
Nanami looked up, unimpressed, maybe a little murderous. “Are you well aware that it’s a Friday afternoon? Which means that tomorrow is Saturday , which is the weekend and I absolutely will not—”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Gojo flapped a dismissive hand as he flopped into the chair opposite them, leaning back with an air of nonchalance that had a vein pulsing in Nanami’s temple. Higuruma watched on with warring amusement and pity, both hidden surreptitiously behind steepled fingers where he kissed his teeth, resisting the overtaking urge to laugh.
“Anyway, there’s this small issue out in the middle of nowhere. Some cursed incidents, blah blah blah, you know the drill. Strange happenings, couples murdering each other nearby— you get the picture, right? Easy peasy. Easy enough to send one of the students really, they could do it in their sleep! I really can’t stress enough how easy it’s gonna be.”
Higuruma raised an eyebrow, finally speaking. “You were supposed to handle this one, weren’t you?”
“Yes, technically,” Gojo grinned, not at all sheepish and wholly unapologetic. “But there’s this festival I’ve been dying to check out. They’ve got all sorts of sweets—mochi, taiyaki, ice cream, you name it! I mean, why waste my time on some low-grade curse when my time is better spent there?”
Nanami’s frown deepened, if that were possible. “This is below our paygrade, then.”
“Exactly! Very astute, Nanamin!” Gojo cheered, completely missing—or more likely ignoring —Nanami’s tone. “Which is why you two are perfect for the job. You can handle it in no time and be back before the weekend’s over. Unless you’d rather join me at the festival? But fair warning, you’ll have to keep up with me while I sample everything. ”
He leaned forward, blinding smile growing wider as if offering the deal of a lifetime complete with spread open palms. But to both Nanami and Higuruma who glanced at each other, reading, it looked much closer to a threat. “So, what do you say? Curse or confections?”
Nanami didn’t even hesitate. “Tell Ijichi to prepare the car.”
Gojo sighed dramatically, as if truly disappointed they weren’t taking him up on his generous offer. “You two are no fun. But alright! You’ll be staying up there, got a place all set up for you. Should be a walk in the park—” he clapped his hands, standing and swaying forward—then back—on mile-long legs.
“Anything else we should know?” Higuruma asked, leaning back in his seat with clinical consideration. Details, details, details —
Gojo shrugged, already halfway out the door with a flippant wave over his shoulder. “Nothing you can’t handle. Just try not to kill each other before the curse does, yeah? Oh, and if you change your mind—”
“We won’t,” Nanami cut him off, already gathering his things.
Higuruma blinked, leaning forward now. Where were the details?
Gojo’s laugh echoed down the hallway as he disappeared, leaving the two men to contemplate the unfortunate turn their day had taken. Higuruma sighed. “He really has a way with words, doesn’t he?”
Nanami simply scowled. “Inconsiderate… incorrigible… no work ethic— ” he muttered, brushing his hands over a wrinkleless suit as he stood. “Let’s get this over with.”
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Sleek black wheels hummed along winding woodland backroads, the thick forest outside morphed into a smudgy, dark green blur. Ijichi was laser-focused on the drive, his hands gripping the wheel with his usual sweaty-palmed intensity.
Higuruma gazed out the window and traced the endless stretch of trees with his eyes until they swam with dizzy shapes. He watched until his head felt uncomfortably light, swooping his attention down to his stationary lap for a reprieve. This place was really out there… strange location for a curse.  
“You know,” Higuruma's voice slipped through the quiet, “it could be worse.” He leaned back, letting the car seat handle him as he let out a slow breath. “At least this should be simple. We like simple.”
Beside him, Nanami was the picture of calm, a book delicately cradled in one long-fingered hand. He’d had enough time to calm down, to temper his frustration with resignation; it couldn’t be helped… and this was somehow still better than the alternative of a day stuck with Gojo.
He gave a small, noncommittal hum, flipping a page. He’d long ago trained himself out of car sickness, these drives now offering a rare slice of interim peace—a chance to slowly make dents in his ever-growing reading list. 
“True,” he murmured, eyes never leaving the lines of text. “And I suppose the company could be worse, hm?”
Higuruma turned his head and the beginning of a smile swept over his mouth. “Oh, so much worse,” he agreed, letting his temple knock against the cool glass of the window. “We’ve been through enough to appreciate these quiet ones. In and out.”
Nanami’s eyes remained trained on his book, but there was the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth.
“In and out,” he repeated.
“Maybe we can unwind after this. Grab a drink, like last time.” Nanami's offer slipped out off-hand as he flipped the page, more a passing thought than a concrete plan. If his weekend was going to be hijacked, he might as well make the most of it. And really, drinking with the person he'd be spending it with anyway didn’t seem like the worst idea. Higuruma was good company, always had been.
Higuruma’s grin was immediate, approval reflected briefly in the window’s glass. “I like the way you think!”
As the forest thickened and the road ahead narrowed, their destination creeping closer, there was no tension, no unease. Nanami was not so foolish to ever feel safe on the job, but with Higuruma, he felt something suspiciously close to it.
It was just a simple in-and-out mission—nothing they hadn’t dealt with before.
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The sun dipped low on the horizon by the time they arrived, splashing the sky with dramatic strokes of orange and pink that belonged more in an ornately framed and hung painting rather than on the front lines of the job.
As Ijichi brought the car to a crunchy halt on the gravel drive, the sound felt louder than it should have—like the world itself held its breath the same as the three men wrapped in the security of their vehicle. Three heads cranked towards windows and their cheeks squished against fogged glass as they took in their lodgings with the sort of veneration of stumbling upon the carcass of a dead god.
This place felt lost.
Old and rotted wood, planks speared from the sides like splintering teeth, green with creeping lichen and constricting vines that curled around every corner and nook and cranny like veins; pumping life into that which is lifeless, keeping alive that which should’ve long been dead.
Nanami was the first out after a brief moment's hesitation, smoothing his hands down his front and looking prepared to walk into a boardroom rather than the mouth of potential doom. It served to swipe away the sudden sweat on his palms.
The cabin that stood before them looked deceptively quaint, even in its disrepair, like something he’d find on a postcard if he ignored the way it crouched amidst the trees like it was prepared to pounce on them. He also ignored the way it made him want to twist his neck in submission, the instinct to drop to his knees in dogeza and scrape his forehead against the gravel before the steps.
Silence blanketed thick, the kind that makes you strain your ears for something—anything—to break it. But there was nothing. No birdsong, no chirping crickets, no croaking frogs or snapping branches of unseen wildlife. Too quiet, even for somewhere this remote. Like this space existed in its own bubble.
His face remained neutral as he swept the area, taking in the unsettling stillness with a mild frown. He couldn’t sense anything—no curse, no cursed energy, none of the obvious residuals Gojo mentioned.
Quirky little cabin, quirky little mission—Nanami would’ve preferred to be at home with a quirky glass of whiskey instead… not here swallowing nerves like a knock-kneed boy.
Higuruma stepped up beside Nanami, tracing the lines of the cabin’s exterior. It was a shithole. He didn’t see the dissonant charm in it that Nanami did, however faint. It was falling apart, the roof looked a good wind away from caving, and somehow it looked designed that way, because surely it would’ve fallen by now if it was ruined by time.
Something about it felt too perfect, too staged, like it was posing for a picture it knew would be taken—just waiting for someone to notice the way the door seemed to yawn like a hungry mouth, welcoming them to step inside its belly.
He allowed himself a moment of frankly healthy mortal terror before he shook it off.
They were professionals, after all. There was no room for jitters before they’d even crossed the threshold. Especially not because of a house.
Ijichi, meanwhile, looked like he might bolt if given half a chance. His hand shook a little as he passed over their overnight carry ons, eyes darting around like he expected the trees to start whispering or something equally unnerving. Not somewhere he wanted to be at night.
“I’ll be back tomorrow to pick you up. Call if you need anything sooner,” he said, trying to sound official, though there was an unmistakable thread of relief that unraveled his voice that he at least gets to leave. He was already halfway back into the car as the last words left his mouth, and Higuruma had to check an eyeroll.
They all felt it, which made him feel marginally better… but that couldn’t be a good sign.
With a final nod, Ijichi took off, the crunch of gravel beneath his tires fading into the distance all too quickly as the sun dipped behind the trees.
Nanami took point after a few seconds more of silent calculation, leading the way up the short, gravelly path toward the door. The wooden door creaked as he nudged it open, a slow, ominous drone that echoed the wrapped hilt of his blade in his closing palm, the sound hung in the air as a sword of damocles—the whole scene balanced on the edge of a razor, expectant and waiting for something to tip it over.
The floors beneath their feet groaned, clearly unimpressed with the sudden intrusion. Nanami was certain the whole place would feel just as unsettling as the outside had, but when they stepped fully into the cabin, they both paused. It was… beautiful.
The room basked in golden light, courtesy of old-fashioned lamps that dotted the space with a gentle, inviting glow. Each piece of furniture advertised rustic charm, worn edges and sturdy frames that practically begged to be sat on. The walls, too, adorned with an array of knickknacks and decorations—each item meticulously arranged.
It was the kind of obviously lived-in space that could lull you into a sense of comfort if you weren’t careful, the kind of place where you could almost forget about the string of suspicious mariticides that had brought them here in the first place.
It was strange, but it was also nice. And in their line of work, nice was a luxury.
Higuruma twisted around Nanami’s back, breathing out a small surprised huh! as he took in the unexpectedly charming interior.
“Not bad,” he remarked, the tension in his shoulders finally easing as he set his bag down on the worn wooden floor. His fingers slowly uncurled from his gavel, knuckles no longer white. “Looks like someone put some thought into the inside, at least.”
“Seems that way,” Nanami agreed, and he was already moving toward the heavy wooden table at the center of the room. He rummaged through his bag—though there wasn’t much to unpack, given the brevity of their planned stay.
Meanwhile, Higuruma allowed himself a moment to wander, not quite settled and seeking to stake out each and every corner of their accommodations, taking in the small details that made the place feel oddly inviting, idly picking up decorations from shelves with an appraising eye—
—and behind them, the door slowly hushed shut, the lock slipping into place with a soft click. Neither man noticed.
Higuruma plucked a ceramic owl from the mantle, his nose wrinkling; not at the decor, which really he found rather charming, but at the streaky, off-yellow trail of dust left in the wake of its removal. He huffed, mentally filing the complaint away.
It wouldn’t do to bring it up to Nanami, not when he was already less than thrilled about being out here at all.
He swiped a finger through the dust, rubbing it between his thumb and index finger, eyes narrowing in distaste. Filthy.
His nose twitched, and before he could stop it, a great inhale heralded the inevitable. Higuruma sneezed, the force of it sending up a poof of air that stirred the greater nest of dust bunnies, erupting the mantle into a cloud of yellow powder.
Coughing and cursing, Higuruma hastily set the owl back down and waved a hand in front of his face, stumbling back in a desperate attempt to escape the dusty assault.
Nanami only snorted, amused, offering a polite albeit unconcerned “bless you” over his shoulder. He only looked up when Higuruma continued to cough, bent at the waist and hands planted firmly on cocked knees.
“Are you alright?” He asked, already side-stepping the table to get to him.
“No,” Higuruma spat, straightening with watery eyes and a yellow dusted face. Nanami tried not to laugh at his misfortune.
“Gojo is a filthy, good for nothing liar,” he continued, and at that Nanami could only hum in sympathetic agreement.
“Got a place set up for us my ass, it’s not even clean—what if I had a dust allergy, huh? I could’ve died, right then and there!”
Nanami turned to the sink, wetting a sheet of paper towel and returning to Higuruma with a frown, handing it over. “Well it’s a good thing you don’t, then.”
“But if I did—”
“You don’t.”
Higuruma growled, mulish, but accepted the towel and scrubbed it over his face. Nanami, in an effort to be helpful, patted down Higuruma’s shoulders. But the dust was stubborn, it clung to his hands like childrens chalk, and it was already coating his own suit from how the dust was roused into the air, catching sunbeams as it swirled and resettled.
Beige was a forgiving color, and he found himself grateful for his preference of the shade over Higuruma’s black suits. Too easy to ruin. Impractical, really.
The more he cleaned, the more Higuruma’s initial anger waned, though a faint prickle remained—a persistent itch beneath his skin, in his nose, his hair, and even his mouth. It made him feel twitchy, uncomfortable, but nothing a hot shower couldn’t fix. He sighed, shaking off the lingering disgust with a few quick flaps of his hands.
“What do you think the odds are that we could get takeout delivered all the way out here? I’m starving.”
Nanami paused in his idle, and admittedly futile, attempts to brush the dust from Higuruma’s suit and sighed. “I wouldn’t count on it. No delivery driver would venture this deep into the woods for us. And if they did, by the time the food arrived, it would be cold and hardly worth the effort.”
“Hm.” Higuruma’s responding grunt was vaguely agreeable. Eyes slipped a longing look at the cabin’s surprisingly well-equipped kitchen. “Guess we’re on our own. I can whip up something decent.”
Nanami raised an eyebrow. “... Since when do you cook?”
“Hey,” Higuruma retorted, hands on his hips with offense and leaving yellow smudgy prints in the fabric. “I’m more than capable in the kitchen, thank you.”
Nanami couldn’t suppress a small smile at that. “I enjoy cooking, but if you insist.”
“Oh, I do,” Higuruma declared with exaggerated seriousness, though the competitively playful glint in his eyes betrayed him. “Just sit back and relax. Or sweep up some dust if you really need to be helpful. Now, shoo—out of my kitchen—”
Nanami laughed, allowing himself to be fluttered and pushed out of the room, shuffling along and casting a quietly fond look over his shoulder.
“Please refrain from setting off smoke alarms.”
Higuruma rolled his eyes, already moving back towards the kitchen. “Just watch. You’ll be begging me to cook more often after this.”
Higuruma started by rifling through the fridge, the pantry, and the cabinets above the sink; rattling glass jars and shuffling cardboard boxes. Gojo wasn't lying about this part at least: the kitchen was set up for them. Fully stocked, and Higuruma reckoned he might actually be able to make something of it. He grinned, feeling pretty confident about his odds. “Beef curry?”
“...mmm.”
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The cabin was all warm, sappy hues as the sun sank fully behind the trees, painting shadows that reminded Nanami of hot cocoa and knitted blankets, the kind of coziness that comes with soft lamps and fairy lights strung along high beamed ceilings. Outside, the dark now released from the creeping treeline pressed inky hands against the windows.
Nanami leaned back in his chair, eyeing the remnants of his meal on the plate with a neutral stare.
There was something off about it.
His desire not to discourage Hiromi’s good intentions naively outweighed his logic though, because he still ate it all, and maybe he would regret that decision later. It wasn’t bad , not even close—there was no taste of rot or spoil, but something that made his mouth tingle and heart thud unlike any curry seasoning he’d ever had.
“Not bad,” he said, setting his fork down with a measured nod. “Your choice in spices was a bit odd… but not bad at all.”
Higuruma felt awful.
He’d stomached it well, with pinched temples he quietly nursed the headache that crept up during the meal like a bad aftertaste, but stiffened ramrod straight at Nanami’s comment.
His brain thudded, thudded, thudded , each beat a jagged staccato as the words sank in, scraping like sandpaper against his nerves. “Not bad?” he echoed, biting through the cozy atmosphere with a bare-tooth grimace. “What do you mean not bad? It was delicious.”
Nanami blinked, surprised by the sudden sharpness and delicately ran a napkin over his mouth. He coughed awkwardly. “I was just offering feedback. It really wasn’t bad.”
The room suddenly felt warmer—too warm. Nanami dismissed it as the lingering heat from the stove, or maybe the spices from the curry, now irritatingly intense as he felt sweat gathering under his collar like humid, panting breaths against his nape.
Higuruma dug his fingers into his temples again, trying to rub away the tension that settled there like a thick fog. It made him woozy, he felt off balance. “Well, I didn’t ask for feedback,” he snapped, the words tumbling out with more venom than he’d intended. He wasn’t usually one to snap so quickly, but something about Nanami’s mild criticism was needling him tonight like a splinter under his skin.
Nanami’s frown deepened. “There’s no need to get so worked up; I apologize for my comment—”
“Worked up?” Higuruma’s dark eyes sparked like lit kindling with a sudden flash of anger. He shoved his chair back, the legs scraping loudly against the wooden floor. “You’re the one who started nitpicking. If your standards are so damn high, maybe you should’ve cooked!”
The air between them was heavy with ozone, tension slithered in, curling around the edges of their fraying tempers like blotting vines feasting on their discomfort. The silence that followed was heavy, anticipatory, and those vines grew roots and then fingers, curling into Nanami’s limbs and tightening the muscles on his face into a silent glare.
Nanami gathered up the dishes with a little too much force, the plates clattering together in a way that made the small space shrink smaller, the echoes bouncing off the walls and settling in the corners like something dark and brooding. The darkness that licked at the windows oozed its way inside.
Higuruma crossed his arms, feeling his irritation spike when Nanami turned his shoulder, hot and irrational, a screeching tea kettle in very real danger of boiling over completely. Don’t you dare ignore me.
“ Honestly, if your standards are so high, I’m surprised you tolerated it at all. My apologies for displeasing your precious palate.”
Nanami’s hands tightened around the sink basin, his knuckles paling as the metal dug into his skin. Slowly—deliberately—he turned to face Higuruma, meeting his glare head-on. Their eyes snapped together like flint striking steel, cold, unyielding, sparks flying. “Fine. Next time, I’ll cook. That way, we won’t have to worry about your thin skin getting in the way.”
Higuruma’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t answer. His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms as he held his ground, the air between them thickening, charged, shimmering with a tension that hovered like static in the room.
If either of them had been of their right mind, they might have noticed the air almost gleaming—an iridescent shimmer, like the heat rising off the hood of a car on a scorching day, or the sheer coat of yellow that coated nearly every surface, the cutlery, the plates .
Every small movement—an impatient twitch of Nanami’s finger, the brief flare of Higuruma’s nostrils—crackled with a heat that wasn’t entirely their own. Something crept between them, feeding off their frustration, stoking and bolstering the growing fire with every passing second.
Nanami’s glare shifted to the dishes in the sink, smeared plates and bits of rice clinging to the edges. The food had been good—damn good, really—and he hadn’t planned on nitpicking. He’d all but decided not to, but the words grew legs and clawed out of his mouth of their own volition.
Cleaning the dishes was out of the question—his mood was too foul to even consider it.
Higuruma scoffed and turned on his heel, retreating to the living room, his footsteps heavy and banging against the old wooden floorboards. Each footfall landed like the gavel he wields and felt every bit as damning.
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
As the night dragged on, the cabin’s cozy charm unraveled at its rotted edges. The soft lights, once warm and inviting, were both too dim to read by and too bright to relax under, casting shadows that twisted nauseatingly on the walls. The couch, which looked so inviting before, might as well have been carved from stone for all the comfort it offered.
And though the house was deceptively spacious, the walls inched closer, closer, closer; tightening the noose around Nanami and Higuruma and forcing them into needless confrontations—over the lights, over which room to claim, over the correct way to handle the fire poker by the chimney.
Higuruma, by this point, had a few creative ideas for its use that had nothing to do with stoking a fire.
Nanami needed distance. A breath. Something to stop the heat crawling up his spine like a fever. He planted himself back at the sink, hands plunging into the soapy water with the kind of force that turned a gentle rinse into an act of war. The clatter of utensils against the porcelain screeched through the small kitchen, each metallic scrape a little too loud, a little too sharp. Water splashed up and soaked into his rolled-up sleeves, each drop that seeped into the fabric felt like a personal insult. He felt positively unmoored.
Every squeak of wet porcelain seemed to mock him, irritation climbing with each stubborn stain he scrubbed that just wouldn’t come out—his sanity hung by gossamer threads.
From the living room, Higuruma’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and loaded with an eye-roll Nanami could picture without even turning. “You don’t have to murder the plates, you know,” Higuruma jeered. “I can hear you all the way in here—that’s how you ruin them.”
Nanami’s grip tightened on the dish, his knuckles blanching white. It was stupid—petty. They never bickered like this, never fell into the brand of mundane sniping reserved for divorcing couples or other miserable types.
He prided himself on keeping calm. Unshakeable. Especially around Higuruma, whose dry wit and effortless ability to slip under his skin kept things lively and interesting. Fun, even.
But tonight? Tonight, everything grated on him. Every word, every sound—the scratch of ceramic, the way Higuruma's voice seemed to curl around the walls and echo back, each bounce sharper than the last. It shredded through the quiet, gnawing at his nerves, leaving them raw and exposed to the stifling air that compressed from every direction like a vacuum.
Nanami thinks he must be sick and Higuruma must be too, because he has just enough clarity to recognize that he doesn’t recognize them at all.
Nanami’s fingers skimmed beneath the sudsy water, brushing against something solid. The unexpected chill of metal met his skin, and his hand stilled as he recognized the shape of the knife buried there. For a moment, it grounded him—quenched the fire licking at his palms, made him feel in control again. He let his fingers curl around the handle, the coolness radiating through his hand and sending a shiver up his spine that felt blessedly soothing.
The blade could make it all stop. Take it. Walk into the living room where Higuruma stands and—
Nanami blinked. The thought dissolved, evaporating as fast as it came back to the void it came from and leaving a sick churn in its wake. He gritted his teeth and dropped the knife back into the sink with a harsh clatter, the sound sharp and final. He wanted to throw it out the window.
Absurd. He was absurd. He’s sick. Surely he must be sick, because he would never think that. Not over something so… nothing.
His thoughts felt foreign, like they belonged to someone else. He wasn’t a beast. He wasn’t a murderer. He’d seen enough bloodshed to know better—he knew better.
The fact that it entered his mind at all almost made him retch.
He wiped his hands on the hanging towel, the rough fabric scraping against his skin and pulling him back from the irrecoverable edge he’d almost stumbled over. Without a word, he turned on his heel, leaving the dishes half-done and the knife abandoned in the sink, as if he could walk away from the sick impulse the kitchen inspired.
The hallway felt longer than it should’ve as he stalked back into the living room, each step heavy, ball-and-chained to his fracturing mind. And there was Higuruma—standing in the small living area, arms crossed, his expression unreadable, half-lit by both lamp and fire and waiting for him.
The shadows carved deep lines into his face, the hooked curve of his nose sharpened by the light, casting him as something almost predatory.
When Nanami stepped into the room, the tension between them snapped taut, a thread wound too tight and ready to break, pulling them closer, reeling them into each other's orbit. It was like standing on the edge of a flame, the heat unbearable and the burn inevitable. They were drawn to each other’s fury, like moths with no choice but to dance in the fire until they turned to ash.
“So rather than be gentler with the dishes, you’re just going to leave them? I suppose you expect me to clean as well as cook?” Higuruma’s voice carved through the room like shattered glass skittering across stone. He didn’t move, didn’t uncross his arms, but his entire stance was a challenge, daring Nanami to step closer, to meet his gaze head-on.
The way his eyes narrowed, locking onto Nanami with stripping intensity sent a fresh wave of anger surging through him, hotter, more vicious.
Nanami froze.
Just keep walking. Ignore him. Keep moving. Bathe and go to bed.
“I’m taking a break,” he said instead, each low word a bullet added to the smoking gun, the calm before a storm that could level mountains. It was a voice that should’ve sent alarms blaring in Higuruma’s mind and made his instincts urge him to back off. It promised reckoning.
If Higuruma weren’t so festered in the pit of his own irrational anger, he might’ve retreated—might’ve backed away from the brewing tempest in Nanami’s eyes.
If he knew that moments ago, Nanami had gripped a knife and entertained thoughts of plunging it deep between his ribs, he might’ve put distance between them.
But if Nanami was sick, Higuruma was sicker. His skin twitched beneath the tight fabric of his dress shirt, shoulders rolling and shuddering in a futile bid to relieve the tension that knotted between them. Sweat slicked his body, glistening in the firelight that painted him in violent hues of orange and red, setting him ablaze from the outside in. He was burning.
His vision dimmed, draining of color until the world was a muted blur—all except for Nanami. Nanami snapped into focus, vivid and pulsing with life, a beacon through the haze of Higuruma’s dilated eyes. He panted, breaths heavy and ragged like a slathering dog, muscles twitching with the need to lunge, to close the distance between them. Restraint frayed at the edges, but all he could think about, all that consumed him, was Nanami. Going to him. Tearing into him.
"Can’t ever—" Higuruma’s voice cracked, struggling to force the words out between teeth clenched so tight he felt a pop in his jaw. "Ask for help, can you?"
A bitter scoff slipped, choked off as his throat seized, the dry walls of his airway sticking together and making his vision swim that much more as he missed another heaving breath. "Always have to be—"
He turned away sharply, a shudder running through him, the effort to keep speaking almost painful; and with it, he hoped to hide his shame at the grossly obvious erection snaking down the seam of his thigh, just as it had been for the past fifteen minutes. "—the lone wolf, thinking you’re so… so independent and fucking cool—"
His breath hissed, a harsh sound that scraped the back of his throat raw down to the bitter copper tang beneath. "So fucking cool—"
Nanami resisted with everything he had, every muscle tensed against the invisible binds that drew him in, demanding he act on impulses that should never see light; should never have been conceived at all.
His fingers twitched at his sides with the urge to act. To do something he’d regret. Wrap them around Higuruma’s throat, maybe, and squeeze until the hate drained out of them both.
He watched as Higuruma began to unravel, each tremor, recognizing the succumbing happening before his eyes as what he felt incubating within himself. It was like staring into a mirror, seeing his own fate playing out in front of him, knowing that it was only a matter of minutes—if he was lucky—before he would break too.
His pulse pounded in his temples, each beat syncing with that silent, relentless pull, dragging him recklessly toward oblivion.
Nanami stalked forward.
Higuruma whirled back around, a sharp animal snap of his neck with teeth bared like a cornered beast. His body jolted upright, spine straightening and meeting Nanami’s advance with a challenge that was all raw instinct—no hesitation, no retreat, only the need to assert dominance.
“What the hell are we really fighting about here? Dishes? Dinner?” Higuruma’s laugh was cold, a bitter thing that didn’t suit him at all. “Or are we dodging the real issue, Nanami? Because I’m begging for an excuse. Give me one, and I swear—” he leaned in as close as he dared, eyelids fluttering at the smell of him even at this distance. “I’ll fight you.”
Nanami didn’t know why they were fighting. Only that they were. And that the scorching compulsion inside him demanded it, devoured him and any dissent whole, certain he would be reduced to ash and hollowed to a bitter husk if he so much as raised a finger against it.
He couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t. The need to push this until something snapped was compulsive. The only end was cremation in this hellfire, one or both, and his desperation for it ripped him apart from the inside out.
“This isn’t about dinner,” Nanami growled, his voice thick with hot coals. His chest felt tight, air scorched by the words he could barely spit out. “Or losing my weekend to be here.” His fists clenched, nails biting so deeply into his palms that blood welled in the half moons, but the sting was nothing compared to the flames ravaging his veins. He’s in hell—he must be.
“This is about you.” Nanami spat the fever in his mouth, callous and cruel. His shoulders quivered and betrayed him, frenetic pulse having him swooping down towards Higuruma’s face a little too fast, a little close, nearly eye to eye now before he could reel himself back upright; drunk on the heat of it all.
“About how you are a burden. A constant, incessant, mind-numbing waste that I’d be better off without.” He wanted this. The confrontation and the catharsis that vitriol promised, even if it meant sinking deeper into the hell he was creating.
The space between them nearly evaporated, the air growing so thick they were both choking on it. Nanami could feel Higuruma’s breath ghosting over his skin, gulping for air, his throat bobbing, warm, uneven, alive—a siren call, seductive and dangerous and ruinous.
Break him. Rip, tear, flay—spill blood into the floorboards, let the cellar drink from him.
The thought scorched through Nanami's mind, twisted and raw, and for a moment, neither dared moved, both possessing an instinctive knowing it might provoke the other to pounce. The only sound was their breath, ragged, and the ratcheting pound of the other's heart, both animalistically attuned and tracing bulging arteries up their throats.
Hurt him. The insidious whispers slithered through Higuruma’s mind like smoke, curling around his thoughts, sick with rabid infection. Hit him. You’ve done it before. He despises you. Use the gavel. End it.
Sweat gleamed on Higuruma’s forehead, mirroring the dampness on Nanami’s neck. The air was suffocating, clinging like napalm, thick and oppressive. It was rage—pure, unadulterated rage—but something else too. Something that begged for pain, for release, for an end.
And then Nanami hit the wall.
The impact was savage, brutal. No time to brace. Higuruma slammed him back, the force sending picture frames clattering to the floor. The walls groaned, the very bones of the cabin trembling under the weight of their collision.
Higuruma didn’t hesitate. He was on Nanami in an instant, hands lashing out, cold fingers like steel vices around Nanami’s throat. The pressure was immediate and crushing—but Nanami didn’t flinch. His eyes gored Higuruma with deadly resolve, steel against steel, waiting for the other to break.
Nanami’s eyes narrowed, excitement seeping through his gaze as heat furnaced low in his belly, his breath coming out ragged. Higuruma’s fingers were still wrapped tight around his neck, but Nanami could feel something else—a thrum, a pulse. His cock strained painfully against his slacks, pre-cum already staining the fabric; the matting feel of his hair both enraged and delighted him.
He wasn’t sure when that happened.
He wasn’t sure he cared,
His hand slid up to Higuruma’s wrist, and with the deliberate force of bending iron, began to pry those vice-like fingers from his throat. Higuruma clawed for him, fist shaking with resistance, and every inch of fight only fueled the arousal that snapped sudden through them both like rubber bands.
A cold, metallic chuckle thundered in Nanami’s red throat, mocking with threat. "... Idiot."
He didn't waste another breath—there was no time. With a sharp twist and a powerful surge of his shoulder, Nanami shoved Higuruma back with enough force to send them both crashing into the floorboards.
They thrashed, clawing and bodying into furniture and light fixtures. Higuruma’s knee shot up, slamming into Nanami’s stomach, sending a shockwave of force that knocked the air from his lungs and his cock twitched, pre-cum seeping in thick rivulets down his thigh. Nanami grunted, but the ache only sharpened the edge of his need. Higuruma, too, felt the burn.
In one fluid, desperate motion, Higuruma rolled them over, breaking free from the hold, chest heaving with exertion, straining and throbbing in his pants with every ragged breath. His eyes blazed with fury, but beneath the rage there was something raw and ruinous. His gaze raked over Nanami, lips curled into a snarl, and all he could think about was how much he wanted to rip him apart—and fuck him into the floor. How much he needed to do one or the other or both.
Yellow clouds shaken from surfaces whirlpooled in the humid air. With each breath, Higuruma felt it more acutely—his clothes clung to his skin, and heat laid siege to his body, unbearable, searing. The pollen, the fucking pollen—he could feel it now, twisting his thoughts, his body, and all he wanted was Nanami beneath him, writhing and begging.
Nanami roared and lunged at Higuruma again, throwing him back into the wall with enough force to crack the old oak paneling. The cabin rumbled, books toppled from shelves, and somewhere in another room something glass shattered.
But all Nanami could see was the way Higuruma’s body shuddered at the impact, the way his pupils dilated, his lips parting in a wet gasp—so fucking pretty.
Higuruma choked, the breath knocked from his lungs, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. His vision blurred, but the moment it cleared, he saw Nanami standing over him—panting, chest heaving, cock straining visibly against his pants, fabric stained dark and dripping. The visual sent a shiver through him, his stomach clenching hungrily and own body desperately reciprocating.
Each thrash and bit of fight only compelled the other to fight back harder. A cyclical prey-drive, hammering and hammering in the forge until someone broke into the coals.
In the charged, suffocating space between them, the air thickened, pulsing with a desperate craving that bordered on madness. Nanami’s grip tightened, punishing hands clasped around Higuruma’s shoulder and the fine bones of his neck. His fingers curled with creaking slowness against the soft skin and fabric, teasing the promise of bruises and ripped clothes.
Higuruma scrabbled for purchase against Nanami’s arm, spitting and clawing, nails raking down skin and leaving red lines that did nothing to deter the iron-grip on his neck; like the bite of a flea for all the attention Nanami paid it.
Their faces were inches apart, close enough that Nanami could see the fine particles of dust chalking Higuruma’s flushed skin, could feel the heat radiating off him in molten waves. Everywhere they touched the yellow mist was spread to him too, and where it was spread Nanami burned.
His breath juddered in his throat, billowing against Higuruma’s cheek his nostrils flared bullishly. Cologne, sweat, and dust that smelt oddly floral… pollen. Not dust at all.
It was the pollen. It had to be. But there was no time to think about that, not when every nerve in his body was on fire, every muscle twitching with the need to lay claim and consume, because Nanami is certain, so certain, of only one thing: the hellfire raging in his bones was going to kill him if he doesn’t whet it.
The muscles in Nanami’s back convulsed, rippling beneath his shirt as he bent lower, his breath ghosting over Higuruma’s throat. “You smell so good,” he groaned, voice rough and fractured and barely coherent. Had Higuruma always smelled like this? It was intoxicating and overwhelming and Nanami needed him.
He smelled too good. Too irresistible. Too much.
Nanami groaned and pushed Higuruma harder against the wall, the force of it rattling the entire cabin as if trying to shake loose whatever wild thing had taken hold of them both. But it was lodged too deep, its hooks set and curved too permanently.
His knee shoved between Higuruma’s legs, pressing up—hard—right against the throbbing bulge in Higuruma’s pants. Nanami felt the way it pulsed, wet and leaking, pre-cum staining the crotch of Higuruma’s pants so thickly that he felt it through the layers on his knee. And with the way his hips jerked forward, rutting against Nanami’s leg—he liked it.
Higuruma writhed, his body twisting and turning, but it wasn’t rage anymore. The way Nanami’s breath hitched, the way his muscles tensed and twitched—Higuruma felt it all, and it was driving him insane, breaking him down until all he could think about was the way Nanami had him pinned to the wall, how Nanami’s knee ground into his weeping cock, Nanami, Nanami, Nanami.
The clawing desperation to peel himself away was tossed in favor of frantic tugging, nails catching on rolled sleeves to yank Nanami closer.
Nanami’s world narrowed, everything outside the two of them fading into a tunnel of pulsing, seething hunger. Irreversibly dialed to the slick heat of Higuruma’s body pressed against his, the frantic beat of his pulse beneath Nanami’s hand, the sweat that trickled down Higuruma’s temple. He wanted to taste it, drag his tongue across that feverish skin, feel Higuruma’s pulse in his mouth and swallow it down gluttonously.
He leaned in closer, breath scalding against Higuruma’s ear as he gritted out the words, each one clawing its way from the depths of his chest and leaving the cavity bloody. He was gone—too far gone to reel himself back, yet somehow, impossibly, not quite lost. There was just enough of him left, clinging by a thread, enough to ask—beg, really—and pray that if the answer was no, he could resist just long enough for Higuruma to hit him and knock him blissfully unconscious.
Even if it killed him. Even if he were to self-immolate. It would be better.
“Tell me you feel it too… shit, I—” His voice broke, shivering, “I need you—”
The words barely left his mouth before Higuruma lunged, crashing his mouth against Nanami’s in a collision of lips and teeth. It wasn’t a kiss—it was raw, violent, a clash of urgency and rage. Their teeth clacked, tongues desperate and frantic, and Nanami groaned, low and deep, as he shoved Higuruma harder against the wall, hips grinding forward in a furious effort to fuse them together.
There was no room for dignity or restraint—just the unbearable need to fuck, to tear each other apart until they were satisfied.
Nanami’s breath hitched, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he gripped Higuruma tighter, fingers digging into the muscle beneath his shirt. The fabric tore beneath his grasp, threads snapping, and Nanami relished in the sound of buttons skittering somewhere across the room and lost to corners, the sensation of skin bared to him.
Higuruma’s hands clawed at Nanami’s back, fingers digging into tense and quivering muscles. Every nerve in his body was on fire, skin too sensitive, cock hardened to the point of pain with every desperate twitch of his hips. “Nanami—” The sound that came from his throat was jagged, agonized and barely comprehensible.
“I know—fuck—I know,” Nanami rasped, shushing and pacifying in a way suddenly tender in his understanding, each word dragging as if ground over sandpaper. He leaned closer, lips brushing Higuruma’s ear, his breath billowing and hot.
“You’re going to take it. Every inch, every bit of me until you can’t think straight—” nevermind that they already can’t think at all. Nanami hardly recognized himself. “—can you do that for me?”
Higuruma’s nails raked down Nanami’s back, whining and blinkered by lust to the point of muteness. Nanami could’ve asked him to peel his nails off and he would’ve if he thought it would feel good.
It spurred Nanami on, feeling his heart drop to his diaphragm to instead beat between his thighs. He didn’t waste another second, his hand shooting down between them, fingers trembling as he fumbled with the waistband of Higuruma’s pants. The button snapped free with a sharp pop, and Nanami tore the fabric apart, shoving his hand into Higuruma’s boxers without finesse.
His hand wrapped around the base of Higuruma’s cock, and the slick, hot pulse of it was almost enough to send Nanami over the edge right there. It was drenched, pre-cum spilling in obscene amounts, leaking down his hand, coating his palm in slippery warmth that dripped between his fingers. Fuck, he’s soaked. Higuruma was trembling, hips jerking into Nanami’s grip, chasing the friction with desperate, needy little thrusts.
“Fuck—Nanami, it hurts—” Higuruma gasped, voice cracking and jumping in Nanami’s fist, dripping onto the floor in the beginnings of a milky puddle.
“I know, I know,” Nanami groaned, voice low and wrecked, half-mad. He released Higuruma’s cock only long enough to yank his own pants down, fingers catching on the waistband in his rush to bare himself. He sprang free, and the sight of himself—hard as steel, already oozing to mat the honey blonde curls of hair on his belly—made him groan, muscles twitching with the need to bury himself inside Higuruma now. “I’ve… I’ve got you. Gonna help—”
There was no time for slow, no time for careful. None of the things he would’ve liked to do. No courtship, no gentle touches, no wining and dining, no chance to savor the feeling of peeling Higuruma away from the realm of friendship.
Nanami’s thoughts scattered like fractals, catching briefly on things like sunflowers—would Higuruma like if he bought them?—but the descending fog swallowed them whole.
Nanami groaned, he spun Higuruma around, slamming him chest-first into the wall with a force that rattled the entire cabin. The sharp sound of breath leaving Higuruma’s lungs was like gasoline on an open flame, and Nanami felt his erection twitch painfully, expanding more, oozing in a steady drip from the swollen tip. So much it felt like he might’ve cum already, but the ache in his balls told him otherwise—he hadn’t even begun.
Higuruma braced his hands against the wall, panting, his whole body trembling under Nanami’s weight. “Do it,” Higuruma snarled, thick with desperation and edged with defiance… or maybe just bravery in the face of what he knew was coming; both were equally admirable. “Please fuck me—I need it… it hurts—”
Nanami whimpered low in his throat, his hands gripping Higuruma’s hips, yanking him back roughly, aligning his pelvis with Higuruma’s ass. The head of his cock was so swollen it raged purple, slit weeping a thick coat that dripped down his length, soaking the base of Higuruma’s spine. It wasn’t normal—none of this was normal—but Nanami couldn’t bring himself to care.
He pressed the tip of his cock against Higuruma’s rim, smearing pre-cum over the tight ring of muscle and creating a slick runway as he dragged the head up and down, coating Higuruma in it. A small mercy, all things considered.
Higuruma’s body tensed, muscles bunching up beneath his skin as Nanami pushed against him, testing the resistance and hissed  at the stars that blew across his eyes. The pressure built, intense, unrelenting, until Nanami thrust forward in one hard, savage motion, burying himself to the hilt in a single stroke.
Higuruma howled, fingers gouging into the wall, tearing the lacquer as his body arched violently, breath coming in jagged, broken rasps. It was too much—too intense, too fast—but exactly what he needed and Nanami knew it.
Pain blurred into pleasure, the overwhelming fullness inside him, the brutal stretch—until there was no distinction left between agony and ecstasy. It all melted, streaming him into a state beyond either. He was euphoric, and the way he immediately shoved back into Nanami made it abundantly obvious.
Nanami froze, eyes rolling to their whites in a way that obliterated any semblance of dignity, the scalding heat inside Hiromi nearly buckling his legs. The way Hiromi squeezed, quivered, and trembled around him had Nanami teetering, hand lashing out to the wall for support and crushing over Higuruma’s knuckles instead.
“Fuu-haah—” The curse fizzled and died on his tongue, useless and defunct. And then Nanami moved, a brutal, unrelenting force, each thrust shaking them both to their very foundations. Flesh pounded against sticky flesh, echoing in the space in a way so pornographic that it might’ve made Nanami blush under regular circumstances.
But this wasn’t regular. His fingers slipped between Higuruma’s pinning them both to the wall.
Dinner and sunflowers.
Nanami’s mind flickered with a different fantasy altogether—far sweeter than the damnable pollen on his tongue, the softness he had wanted to offer Hiromi. That calm domesticity, the gentleness Nanami thought he should’ve given. But here they were, drowning and clawing at each other to stay afloat.
Higuruma’s body rocked with every thrust, his own cock dripping against the wall, smearing in gooey, messy trails. He was completely lost, undone by the feeling of Nanami inside him—stretching him, molding him. Every stroke sent a wave of pleasure-pain through his body, chipping moans from his throat, making him claw at the wall, desperate for more, desperate for anything and everything, and he took it greedily.
Nanami’s free hand slid around, wrapping firmly around Higuruma’s length. He squeezed, stroking in time with the thrusts that had Higuruma corseted to the wall. “You’re mine,” Nanami murmured, voice thick and tongue useless in his mouth, far better suited for lapping at Higuruma’s neck than talking, and so he does.
If Higuruma was his, Nanami would spend the rest of his life making it up to him. He’d worship him. Take him out for dinners, make sure he laughed, filled his life with comfort, and this—this would be a secret they’d share. A private thing to laugh about and remember rather than the source of shame Nanami feared. He’d—fuck, he’d get him sunflowers everyday. During the winter he’d grow them himself if he had to—
“Please say it,” he crackled, desperate, impeaching. Suddenly this mattered to him.
Higuruma’s breath caught, quivering with each brutal batter into his body, already cracking like pressured glass. “Yours,” he gasped, his voice staticky with gravel, shredded from the moans that never once stopped dripping helplessly from spit-slick lips.
“Fuck, Nanami, I’m yours—”
That was all Nanami needed.
Higuruma’s submission wasn’t just some indulgence of lust. It was deeper than that, something in his very bones. Nanami saw it clearly now—the dormant part of Higuruma that craved being tethered, the wolf who wanted to be collared, domesticated into a dog. And Nanami was more than willing to bear the leash, to hold it firm and tender in his grip, to guide Higuruma through his surrender.
Nanami possessed Higuruma so beautifully, so thoroughly responsible for him, that it inspired nothing but heart-stopping adoration in the delirious mess of a man beneath him.
The thought shot through Nanami like a bullet, inspiring furious determination to do away with the awful edges where Higuruma ended and he began. His hips snapped forward, thrusting with brutal purpose, hammering into Higuruma with a force that sought to unmake them both, return them to stardust or whatever primordial pool they crawled out of. And Higuruma, with every ragged moan, took it. No, more than that, he welcomed it.
Drool slid unashamedly down Higuruma’s chin, cheek squished to the wall, his throat convulsing with every slam of Nanami’s cock inside him so deep he swears he feels him in his ribs. His voice was nothing but a mess of broken syllables now— “Na-na-mi—!”—barely managing his lover’s name in the mess of spit and pathetic mewling.
“Harder,” Higuruma gasped, voice shredded beyond recognition, hips rutting desperately into Nanami’s hand, chasing that final bit of friction, that last agonizing piece just at the tip of his tongue. “Fu–uu–uu-ck, please—m’gonna—”
Ever his servant Nanami’s fist tightened around Higuruma’s cock, knuckles white with the force of his grip as he stroked him, rougher than he liked it himself, but exactly how he thought Higuruma needed it because he thought he might appreciate a firm hand. So salaciously determined is he to milk every drop of pleasure from him, to exorcize this feralness from their bodies.
That’s all it took. Higuruma’s entire body went rigid before shattering gloriously—
He convulsed, spine arching violently off the wall as his orgasm tore through him, ripping a raw, choked cry from his throat. Hot, thick ropes spilled over Nanami’s fingers, and the rest splattered messily against the wall. His breath hitched, caught somewhere between a sob and a gasp as the overwhelming mix of pain and relief threatened to drown him. His legs buckled, but Nanami held him upright, speared by Nanami’s cock and the firm grip that kept him from crumbling entirely.
Nanami slowed just for a moment, enraptured by the ruin beneath him, feeling the others' orgasm with ferocious synchronicity like a punch to the gut.
Higuruma was still trembling, breath uneven, each gasp shaky and erratic. “Please, just—” Nanami gripped his hips, dragging him back into place, and with a breathless choke, “—please don’t stop me—I can’t… I still need—”
Nanami bent him, his forearms flexing in a restraining pin around his chest and waist; Higuruma curled and arched back, and back, and back into him like some lewd figurehead of a ship.
“Fuck, Nanami… please—more.” Higuruma’s voice was impoverished, hands clawing at the walls until wood splintered beneath the blunt bite of his nails, desperate to hold onto something, anything, as Nanami drove into him, the force of it pushing him further up the wall with each sloppy thrust as his cock continued to sputter against frayed and scratched wood—impossibly unspent.
The tension in Nanami’s gut coiled tighter and tighter, a spring wound to its breaking point before finally—
It snapped with a final, brutal thrust, and he met his first orgasm with an embarrassing cry—raw, desperate, echoing through each fierce contraction that tore through him. His grip on Higuruma’s hand tightened as he whined against the damp skin of his neck, shuddering with every hot, thick pulse that spilled deep inside his lover. He gasped raggedly, gulping for air over flushed, bitten skin as he rode out the last shivers of release, clinging to Higuruma as if the world would fall away without him.
Their bodies slumped together, breaths mingling. Higuruma’s forehead pressed against the wall, and for a moment, everything was still except for the lingering tremors that juddered them both. Nanami’s breath was hot against his neck; his lips dragged over the skin, pressing kisses of apology, gratitude, pleading.
But it wasn’t enough. The insistent burn beneath their skin, the gnawing ache, still simmered. They could both feel it—this madness that refused to release its grip, no matter how hard they tried to bury it.
“Nanami,” Higuruma panted. His hands, now trembling, scraped roughly against the splintered wood. He forced himself to turn, just enough to catch a glimpse of Nanami’s face—flushed, tense, eyes squeezed shut in agony. “Are you… are you okay?”
Nanami’s answer was a slow shake of his head, breath bitten between clenched teeth.
“I… still feel it,” he confessed, voice rough, strained, composure stripped and leaving him shamelessly wanton. He swallowed, trying to regain some control of only his voice, but it was useless. A frustrated groan slipped out, his hips twitching forward unconsciously, still buried deep inside Higuruma, hard as iron and showing no sign of letting up. “It’s not enough… fuck, it’s not enough.”
Higuruma’s heart pounded, the reality of their situation sinking in. He should be sated, exhausted even, but his body was already responding to Nanami’s words, the fire rekindling with a vengeance—the refractory period of some debauched god, not the exhausted thirty six year old man he knows himself to be. He’s never been so hard in his life.
Without another word, Nanami tightened his hold on Higuruma, stumbling back on shaky legs until they sank to the floor. There was a brief, fleeting moment of tenderness as Nanami held Higuruma close, twisting him around so they could face each other.
Higuruma was ruined. Spit wet his chin and cheek, his hair spiked in all directions beyond repair, and eyes dilated so eclipsing of their pupils that Nanami can barely see the whites either.
Supple, pliant, and so beautiful.
“Higuruma…” Nanami’s voice was breathless and heavy, but there was a new softness to it—a plea woven through the desperation like wicker baskets, only hoping they’d hold the weight of emotions he was too addled to carry.
His hands found Higuruma’s, guiding them to his broad shoulders with a gentle insistence. He yearned for him with a presence of mind he lacked before. He’d needed a body, that was all, and that hadn’t changed… but Nanami wanted him.
“Please—”
The word broke from him, cracked and vulnerable, as his fingers tightened around Higuruma’s hip, trembling with the effort to stay anchored. He slid his hand down, cupping the curve of Higuruma’s ass and giving a firm, urging push, his wide, desperate eyes locking onto Higuruma’s, beseeching and pained.
Higuruma cupped Nanami’s face in his hands, the same hands that ruined a wooden wall possessed with something more gentle now, he cradled him like something fragile.
He looked at Nanami like he’d never seen him before, and in a way, he hadn’t. Not like this—not so ruined.
He leaned in, capturing Nanami’s lips in a slow, deliberate kiss, pouring every ounce of weight and nebulous bit of emotion into it. His thighs tightened around Nanami’s hips as he lifted himself up and then dropped back down onto Nanami’s cock. Fire met with the gasoline in his blood, reigniting anew.
He was always meant to be burned by Nanami.
He would give and take until there was nothing left.
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When the sun rose it did so sluggishly.
Like it too was afraid of what it might find inside the unassuming little cottage. Its eye rose hesitant over the trees, golden spears shot through windows and sheer curtains, illuminating the carnage strewn about the floors.
Anything not nailed down was toppled, the knick-knacks so meticulously arranged knocked to the floor or shattered, books indecently fluttered their pages in dead air, and the floors, the walls, and the upholstered leather of the couch were thoroughly destroyed.
Claw marks and stuffing, the odd bite taken out of the arm of a chair and left punctured with teeth—but no blood, no murder, no bodies—except for two, very much alive and tangled in a mess of limbs and sticky flesh on what remained of the couch.
Nanami’s leg dangled off the edge, one arm limp against the floor, while the other curled a cradle around Higuruma’s back where he slumped on his shoulder—drooling, snoring, and finally sated .
The man was peaceful—vulnerable in a way that tugged something deep in Nanami’s chest.
Nanami didn’t sleep.
Not much, at least.
He stayed vigilant, his thoughts churning like a storm at sea. Once they were both… “well” … he’d agonized, he’d thought, he’d theorized. He’d seethed and spat in his head like a rabid animal, every part of him on edge, because he knew this wasn’t right. This wasn’t simply an explosive culmination of little repressed desires—though he did take some time to consider the implications of what this would mean for his relationship with Higuruma tomorrow. No, this was something done to them.
He remembered reading the report about a curse Gojo exorcized once—one that could induce euphoria, passivity, bending the mind to its will through flower fields. If a curse could do that, then why not something more sinister? Something that could twist emotions, heighten them to the point of madness. Rage, hate, lust… such a curse wouldn’t need to act violently itself; it could simply turn its victims into weapons, feeding off the very emotions it created. The implications set a chill in his gut, heavy and unsettling.
Couple murders. One survivor. Confusion. The details were sparse in the file, but Nanami recalled those morbid little highlights, and with a new day dawning he knew he had to settle the theory that stewed in his head all night.
With a careful touch Nanami’s arm tightened around Higuruma’s shoulders, supporting his back as he rolled them over as gently as he could manage.
Higuruma grumbled inarticulately, Nanami inhaled and froze, hovering… the snoring resumed, and so too did Nanami exhale. He arranged Higuruma’s limbs so he’d be more comfortable, making sure long legs and bruised arms were tucked properly onto the fluff-bleeding cushions. His hand lingered a moment longer as he lifted Higuruma’s head to place on a pillow, fingers dipped in inky hair with soft consideration.
His palm brushed once, easing the tufted cowlicks on his head before he withdrew.
Nanami stood, his chiseled jaw clenched, determination hardening his features as he turned away from the couch. Without a backward glance, he marched to the front door, each step measured and purposeful.
Nanami didn’t bother with clothes as his feet pounded the floor, the cool wood unforgiving against his bare skin. He gripped the door knob like it was the throat of an enemy, twisting and flinging it with a force that should’ve sent the door flying—yet it didn’t budge. “ Hah… ” he chuckled, darkly amused. He tried again, muscles flexing, veins bulging with effort— how embarrassing, he mused, only if he hadn’t expected exactly this.
He moved to the kitchen. The window above the sink brightly lit with cheerful morning gold, dripping jewels from dewy grass on the gravel drive. He reached for the small metal latch, hope flickering in his chest like a dying ember—sealed.
“I fucking knew it,” he laughed despite himself, near hysterical at his idiocy. His hand found its way to his hip, the other raking through irreversibly tousled wheat hair.
“Knew what?”
Nanami’s flinched to hear Higuruma speak. He whirled around, finding him propped up on the couch, one arm slung over the torn and fuzzy backrest, his expression groggy but attentive.
“The door won’t open,” Nanami said with a derisive snort.
“—and you wanted to go outside naked because—?”
“The windows too. I can’t open them.”
Higuruma’s brow furrowed, sleep slowly ebbing away as he propped one knee up, hooking an elbow around it while resting his head atop the makeshift pillow. “And…?”
“They’re not real, Higuruma.”
Oh, so he’s lost it, Higuruma thought.
Higuruma blinked, a moment of confusion flashing in his eyes before he smothered it beneath a well-practiced mask of calm. His lips curled into a placating smile, the kind one gives to a person on the verge of breaking. “I see…” he didn’t.
“... are you feeling alright?” His voice was steady, honed by decades of smothering nerves beneath layers of practiced indifference. But he could feel the exhaustion pulling at his edges, the dregs of whatever had been in his system finally clearing. If Nanami wasn’t good, if he had truly lost it, then…
Nanami groaned, shaking his head as he strode back to the couch. “We’re in a domain, Higuruma. We probably have been since we walked through the door.”
That pulled Higuruma out of his spiraling thoughts. He scoffed, disbelieving that that was the conclusion Nanami arrived at. “No—no, we would’ve noticed.”
Nanami grunted in response, his focus on the rubble scattered across the floor. He crouched down, rifling through the mess with a single-minded determination until he found his boxers. He stepped into them with the kind of force that spoke volumes about the rage simmering beneath his skin. “Mess with my fucking head —my fucking body …I don’t fucking think so.”
“Wouldn’t we have noticed?” Higuruma insisted. He scrambled off the couch, the cool air biting at his skin as he tried the door, then the windows—no dice. He blinked owlishly. How hadn’t they noticed?
“Wait, where are you going?”
Higuruma watched, a mix of awe and concern tightening his chest, as Nanami, clad only in his boxers and wielding his signature black-and-white blade, stormed across the living room. The destruction underfoot crunched with each step, like the ground itself was trembling beneath his ire. He moved with the purpose of an angry deity, his eyes narrowed in determination. “I’m going to find it, of course.” The rest of his ensemble seemed irrelevant, the sheer force of his anger making everything else redundant. At the very least, Nanami refused to face his quarry with his dick out.
Higuruma scrambled for his clothes, now little more than torn scraps, but managed to yank on a pair of boxers, matching Nanami’s hurried attire. “Try going up,” he suggested, breathless, hopping in place to work an uncooperative leg through the leg hole.
“Is there an attic?” Nanami’s voice was sharp, all business as they moved in unison down the hallway, weapons gripped with white-knuckled determination, intent on receiving their pound of flesh in return for their dignity.
Higuruma nodded, still catching his breath. “I believe so. The house looked taller from the outside.”
Heat rises. The thought flashed between them, unspoken yet understood. The sweltering flames that burned them from the night before would have naturally ascended, carrying with it the intoxicating miasma that fueled whatever twisted curse that ensnared them, up to the highest point. Simple physics.
Nanami for all of his composure (last night notwithstanding) was always careful on the job. You would not know this by how he kicked down the door at the top of the stairs, blowing it clear of its hinges and obliterating it with a violent explosion of splintered wood.
“Where are you…”
The thing skittered down from the rafters, a grotesque, spider-like abomination with far too many limbs that clicked and chittered as it descended. Its body was an obscene, fleshy mass, swollen and pulsing as if ready to burst, its skin stretched thin over the bloated form beneath. It laughed in that eerie, tinny way curses do, mandibles clicking and many eyes rolling to devour the two men in the doorway.
It was slow, fat and sluggish, engorged on the feast they’d unwittingly provided, dragging itself across the floor with an unnatural, bone-crunching crawl. Its limbs twitched sporadically, like it couldn’t quite control them, its movements erratic and nauseating to watch.
Nanami liked to take his time, usually. Liked to assess his enemy and make sure there were no nasty surprises waiting for him once he engaged. Because Nanami was a careful man, even moreso when he isn’t alone. But not this time. There was no patience left in him.
Nanami’s eyes blazed with the cold, righteous fury of a vengeful god. Ratios lined his vision, spinning and locking into place with terrifying clarity. He swung his blade in a wide, brutal arc.
The strike was perfect.
Wooden boards shattered beneath the force of his blade as it sliced through bloated curse flesh, spewing rotten blood across Nanami’s bare skin. The creature shrieked and twitched violently, its many legs flailing in a grotesque, desperate dance before it seized up and fell still. The curse evaporated into dust… but not the usual gray ash he’d come to expect.
Yellow spores billowed into the air, and Nanami immediately hurled himself backward, instinctively bodying Higuruma aside and away from the cloud. The panic was swift and visceral, propelling him out of harm’s way as he crowded Higuruma into a safer corner.
Higuruma staggered slightly from the force but quickly steadied himself, feeling the air around them clear, becoming lighter, easier to breathe. The light filtering through the dusty old window seemed a little brighter now, cutting through the gloom with a newfound sharpness.
Nanami’s shoulders were tense, muscles flexing as he adjusted his grip on the blade’s fabric-bound handle. Higuruma couldn’t see Nanami’s ratio lines, but he could see the red welts and scratches marring his back, the way the skin stretched taut over them and surely must sting—but Nanami didn’t flinch.
Higuruma is silent for a moment, neither of them speak, letting the feeling of closure dawn well and truly over them before finally Higuruma sighed and relaxed his grip on his own weapon, raking a hand through his disheveled hair. “Well… I suppose that’s taken care of.”
Nanami straightened, his exhale feeling every bit the exorcism he’d just performed. His hand reflexively reached for his throat, adjusting a tie that wasn’t there, on a suit he wasn’t wearing. He grimaced, prickling.
“...It would seem so.”
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Scalding shower water and floral-scented soap that made Nanami’s stomach churn and skin shiver with thoughts of flowers, and petals, and pollen, and Higuruma—they took turns cleaning themselves one after the other. Nanami first, scrubbing his skin with a fervor that bordered on obsession, as if the force of his hands could erase not just the icy streaks of purple curse blood, but the memory of how it got there and every other substance that clung to his weary body.
After him, Higuruma took his place in the steamy room, letting water pound against his bruised and aching back, head bowed under the spray and washing away far more than dust and grime. It was a baptism, a cleansing, until the water that swirled down the drain ran clear and took with it the last bit of curse-induced grit and fucked dumb-ness from his brain.
The house invented its own gravity well, warping all sounds and emotions, all feelings except for what it wanted them to feel. But now that pull was gone. Their feet were no longer nailed down by that otherworldly weight; they were grounded once again by the earth's natural pull, back in the same plane as everyone else, free from the almost-world of the domain.
Nanami had already called Ijichi, arranging their extraction with the kind of professional detachment that belied everything that transpired within these walls. “We’re both fine,” and “it’s been dealt with,” and “yes, at your earliest convenience, thank you.”
Now, with nothing left to do but wait, Higuruma and Nanami moved around each other with dancing steps, choreographed avoidance and refusal to so much as bump into each other—because what if one thing led to another, and what if they weren’t quite right yet and it started again, and what if they said something stupid—
Higuruma ran a hand through his still-damp hair, grimacing at his inability to bridge the gap. There was no precedent for what they’d done, no documentation for him to point at and say “hey, here’s what we do now”.
Things had never been tense with Nanami. Their connection had always been easy, natural—colleagues by circumstance, friends by choice. They shared the same burden, the same grim determination to do what needed to be done and the understanding that someone had to do it. Misery loves company, and theirs had always been more than just a shared duty.
But that was before they’d fucked like their lives depended on it.
Funny how that changes things.
There was a carefulness in the way they moved now, an awareness that hadn’t been there before. Nanami was stiff and brittle, seeming almost afraid to get too close, like he couldn’t quite reconcile what he’d done with who he thought he was.
Higuruma, perceptive as always, kept his distance; not wanting to push too hard and break whatever fragile equilibrium they’d managed to find; because this wretched silence was still preferable to the breakup of their friendship.
It was almost comical, really, how they could teeter so close to the precipice of something meaningful and yet Higuruma found himself holding back. Like a cat eyeing a fishbowl, the temptation there, the desire to reach out and take the leap, but deciding against the jump because he was afraid he wouldn’t stick the landing.
But Higuruma had never been one to shy away from the truth. He’d made a career out of cutting through bullshit, and he wasn’t about to stop now even with potentially catastrophic consequences. So, with a resolve that brooked no argument, he weed-wacked the silence and leveled Nanami’s turned back with a look that would’ve dismantled a lesser man.
“We don’t have to talk about it.” He began abruptly. “But you’re a good friend of mine, Nanami—and if it’s up to me, that won’t change. So if we’re going to forget that this happened, just tell me so I can do the same. We need to be on the same page at the very least.”
Nanami surveyed the world outside the wide open living room window as if it were his kingdom. Quietly and greedily inhaling the fresh air that swept in, and with it went out the sordid smog that clung like film wrap to his brain. He’d been eager to confirm the windows would indeed open now with the curse exorcized—they did. He also wanted an excuse to silently gather himself—the window provided.
Nanami didn’t turn to face him, but the way his head lifted just so made it clear he was listening intently.
His gaze stayed riveted on the horizon outside, where the morning sun bled gold into the sky. Wishing that same light would illuminate the jumbled mess of thoughts and feelings he’d agonized over while Higuruma slept and highlight the way forward.
He thought he could handle it—both the mission and the man with him—but the pollen stripped him raw, naked to the soul. It was ugly and far from what Higuruma deserved; both physically and the cold words traded before it.
If Higuruma was his…
The thought alone made his stomach knot, a quiet yearning twisting inside him like hemlock. Nanami wanted so much more than what they’d been forced into—wanted to take his time, to show Higuruma the care and consideration he was worth. There should have been dinners, quiet conversations over wine, the slow unfolding of something deeper than friendship. It should’ve been a courtship, not a violent collision of hunger and curse-driven madness.
But what was done was done. No amount of wishing could undo it, and now, standing on the other side of the night, Nanami knew he had to make it right. He wanted to with a sincerity that bordered on desperation.
Because if Higuruma was his…
Nanami felt the longing bloom again, a poison that seeps closer and closer to his heart. He would give him everything. Anything he wanted—days filled with small comforts and nights spent wrapped in the quiet intimacy of just being together. He would repair Higuruma’s suit, take him out for the best meals, buy him flowers, and pour his drinks. He would worship him in every way a man could be worshiped, not just in moments of passion but in all the mundane, unspoken ways that truly mattered.
He indulged those thoughts while Higuruma slept, when the yearning of the body surrendered to the yearning of the heart. Nanami allowed his brutally thick arms to hold him just a little tighter, relishing those small hours of peace before he knew everything would change. It was as inevitable as watching the sun slowly rise through the windows, shedding light on the destruction they’d wrought; change would come, and he didn’t know from which direction he should protect himself when the path diverged.
But those hours of clandestine coveting seemed a lifetime ago, more a fantasy than a possibility. Higuruma’s voice was firm, almost clinical, as he tried to set the parameters of their future interactions. We need to be on the same page, he said, and Nanami felt a stab of regret that they weren’t already.
We don’t have to talk about it.
Nanami knew that was true, but it was the very thing that gnawed at him. They could sweep it under the rug, pretend it hadn’t happened, and go back to the way things were—but Nanami wasn’t sure he could. Not when he thought he felt something, saw something, in Higuruma. The path split before him now—safety and risk, retreating back or shouldering forward. Maybe he’d lost his mind a mile or so back.
Nanami finally turned to face him, the morning light catching whiskey eyes and flambéing them with ardent certainty. He didn’t know how to say it. He’d always been good with words but never this kind, but words didn’t know that when they tumbled out anyway.
“I don’t want to forget,” he confessed.
It was a start.
“I will not just brush this aside, Higuruma. You… mean a great deal to me.” What a pisspoor excuse of a confession, he thought bitterly.
He cleared his throat, met Higuruma’s shrewd eyes and fought against every impulse to look away. He forged ahead.
“Last night… wasn’t us. And I know that that is not how I would’ve wanted things to go if ever we were to…” he trailed off, waving his hand vaguely. But Higuruma nodded, understanding the words in the silence and encouraged him on.
“But it felt like—to me, at least, like maybe there was something there. Something worth doing differently, if you feel the same way.”
“I want to make it right. In fact, I insist on making it right, if you’ll let me.”
The silence that followed was thick with unspoken truths, the kind that couldn’t be easily unpacked in the span of a few seconds or weakly uttered confessions and pleas. Nanami’s heart pounded in his chest, each beat a tolling bell with the hope that maybe, just maybe, Higuruma would understand—that he’d see through the mess of it all to the sincerity underneath.
Because for all his equanimity, Nanami couldn’t shake the truth he’d arrived at while Higuruma slept that seeded itself in his chest: If Higuruma was his, he’d never stop trying to make him happy. He’d never stop wanting this.
“And I’d like to start with that drink… if you’re still amenable to that.”
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The first tentative days turned to months, and then years.
Work-related dinners with the occasional bar visit to unwind effortlessly transitioned into intimate date nights. A strange bond formed in the crucible of something neither of them could ever explain, tempered with time and the endless patience of two men lucky enough to know what they have. Higuruma and Nanami repaired their relationship with gold, filigree filling the cracks and turning it far more beautiful than it began.
Now, when the two found themselves on the sun-drowned beaches of Malaysia, toes buried in hot sand with matching skin-warmed gold bands clasped in woven hands, they might mention that one time and laugh.
A humorous anecdote from a lifetime ago where Higuruma insists that that one time is the cause of his persisting back pains, and Nanami asserts that the scars that litter his back and arms are not from a curse at all but from that one time.
And when Nanami glanced at Higuruma, face turned toward the sun with a blissful smile on his face, Nanami allowed himself to smile too. He’d made up for it in every way that mattered so long as he could see Higuruma smile like that, and he would keep doing so for the rest of their lives.
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harunovella · 9 months ago
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*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ love language (verse iv); s.g.
synopsis: you and gojo go on your first double date... or is it really? content: canon divergence (teen!gojo era), fem!reader, hopeless romantic gojo, best bros satoru and suguru bickering as always, gojo may have had a 'help I've fallen on your boobs and I can't get up' moment, bestie shoko, not beta read (sorry for any errors!) note: another addition to my gojo anthology series! this one was sm fun to write, I love writing gojo and geto being nothing but idiots tbh... wanna be tagged? lmk in the replies!
"A dinner? A fancy dinner?" Shoko asked as you nodded. "What's a bunch of sixteen year olds gonna do at a fancy dinner?" She raised a brow in confusion. Ever since being paired by Yaga with Shoko, the two of you have grown quite close. You were more than thankful, as much as you loved your own little trio (including Nanami and Haibara), it was nice to have a friend that wasn't... well, a male. 
Not that there was something wrong with that, you saw Nanami like a sort of twin—though you were a bit more on the social side—he got along with you the most. Then there was Haibara, who was an absolute sweetheart and a gem, the energy both you and your blond twin needed. However, seeing as Ieiri was your senior, there was quite a lot to learn from her—outside from the jujutsu world. 
There was also Geto and Gojo... Geto was an interesting person to be around. He had dark humor but also was nothing but kind to you. Gojo, on the other hand...
"A double date?!" Satoru exclaimed as he was alone with Suguru after you invited the two young men to the dinner you told Shoko about. 
Arching an eyebrow, Suguru crossed his arms. "Who said this is a double date? In your delusional world, you're dating our little junior when she only sees you as a friend—"
"That's a lie!" Gojo snapped, earning a snicker from his best friend. "I'll have you know we get along very well, we hangout a lot! And— and we have a lot of fun conversations!"
"Sounds fun," Geto said sarcastically. "We all know you're madly in love with her. However, we have no idea how she feels about you."
"Then explain the double date, huh?" Gojo was now the one to cross his arms, tapping his foot. "You and Shoko, me and my mochi?"
Sighing, Suguru pinched the bridge of his nose. "Again, not a double date. It's four friends going to a nice restaurant to support one of our friend's family members. Nothing more, nothing less," he explained, only for everything to go into one ear and out the other for the white haired boy before him. 
Satoru was in his own world, delusional as always, eyes sparkling at the thought of you in a cute dress. Heels or no heels, makeup or not, he just couldn't help but fantasize about how beautiful you were going to look tonight!
"Earth to Satoru?" Geto waved his hand in front of his best friend, only to laugh. "Thinking about how cute she'll look tonight, huh?"
"Yeah..." Gojo nodded, a face of pure ecstasy, as if he were about to drool. 
"Maybe I'll swap dates, you can have Shoko, I'll have our beautiful—"
"No!" Satoru shouted, instantly jumping Suguru. "She's my date for the night!"
"Good luck with that, if you look like an idiot right now thinking about her, just imagine you tonight!" Suguru laughed as he shoved Satoru off of him. "You're gonna look like a complete idiot!"
"You're not discreet..." Geto mumbled towards Gojo as the young man sat beside you, cheek pressed in the palm of his hand as he ever so casually gazed at you. You were in the middle of a conversation with Shoko, something about a movie you both recently had seen together. Too lost in your discussion, laughing and enjoying the evening as Suguru watched his best friend look like he was in a trance. "You are literally staring..." Furrowing his eyebrows as a look of slight disgust took over his face, Suguru kicked Satoru. 
"Shh," Gojo brushed off, kicking him back. 
"You're lucky she's in her own world with Shoko to even hear us," Geto kicked again, feeling his best friend constantly kick back. Gojo was too focused on you to even pay him any mind.
The restaurant, although fancy, was quite lively and practically filled to the brim. The reservations were endless and everyone that came and went looked like they came from money. Satoru and Suguru wore similar suits, solely because they bought them last minute and ended up with the same look (Satoru was NOT happy, but Suguru found it very funny). Shoko, after seeing them, called them tweedledee and tweedledum... You, on the other, found it cute. 
Cute... Gojo kept hearing your words echo in his head. You thought he, himself, was cute?! Forget Suguru, you said he was cute! He couldn't help but indulge in it as he gazed at you practically the whole dinner. For a split second, he did acknowledge the fact that you looked beyond gorgeous. In a white, fitted dress, hugging your curves with a sweetheart neckline... It was safe to say his mind was split in two. In particular, the two brain cells he had. Half of his mind was floating in the clouds of your compliment while the other half was focused on the top of your breasts (practically where his eyes kept falling to). He was... somewhat of a gentleman, he just couldn't help that dirty side of him. You were beautiful! He wanted you!
In his defense, he was used to seeing you in your uniform jacket, skirt, and tights... the times you weren't, you were always dressed cute and comfortable. Never had he seen you like this, curves and all. 
Reaching over the table and yanking on Gojo's hair, Geto stifled a laugh as his best friend snapped his head and growled. "Rude, I was busy!" He hissed, reaching over and tugging on the bangs that hung over the dark haired young man's forehead. 
Caught up with your conversation with Shoko (and not entirely hearing the commotion beside you with all the various voices around you in the restaurant) a sudden gasp left the brunette as she watched it all happen before her in slow motion. Gojo and Geto shoved one another, completely forgetting where they were as others nearby watched in confusion. 
From one second to the next, you were knocked off your chair, head thudding with the ground as a body collapsed against you. Various gasps and whispers were heard as you winced. Blinking a few times and trying to sit up, you felt a pressure against your chest. Both Shoko and Suguru (who was pulled to his feet by Shoko), stared at the disaster before them. Satoru, with his face planted against your chest, as you stared at him, wide eyed. 
"Satoru!" Shoko exclaimed, smacking his head as he lifted it, staring at you with a shared blush, before both of his friends yanked him up. 
"I— I am so sorry!" He exclaimed, reaching for your hand to help you up as you looked stunned. 
"God, you two are so immature. Before we get kicked out, take her home and I'll handle this," Shoko tsked as you blinked, only to snap out of your daze. 
"It's— It's okay! I'll handle this! I invited you all—"
"No, you hit your head hard, let me handle this. Dummie over here will take you," Shoko kicked Satoru's calf. "Go. Now."
Without second thinking his actions, Gojo took your hand and lead you out. Both of you ignored the displeased stares and gossip that spread over the four kids who "shouldn't have been allowed into a restaurant like this in the first place." 
Walking out, Satoru stopped in his tracks before turning to face you. "I'm so sorry about... my face being in your... Anyway, are you okay?" He asked, using his free hand to gently touch the back of your head. "There's no bump, but, are you alright?"
"I— It's okay, I'm not hurt," you swore as you nodded your head, looking up at him with your doe eyes. Gojo swore his heart grew two times its size. "I promise," you softly smiled. 
Nodding, a small smile grew on the young man's lips. He couldn't help but gaze at you, softness in his eyes as he kept his hand on the back of your head. Silence weaved its way between the two of you. Nothing uncomfortable. You stood there for what felt like hours, looking at one another and nearly forgetting what you were doing or where you were. 
The sound of honking snapped the two of you out of it as you realized you were out in the open, with people walking by and cars driving along. 
Clearing his throat, Satoru lowered his hand from your head and kept his other in yours. "Let's get you home, yeah?"
tag list: @bakananya @strangehuman101 @thirtykiwis @sillygoosegoose (some of u I sadly couldn't tag!)
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byzeloforzelo · 2 years ago
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[221208] Instagram post |X|
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cottonlemonade · 6 months ago
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Hiii! can I get a Menu A with strawberry milk, a rice pudding and a mochi, and sit with Tsushima Kei!
thank uuu😘
Three Sour Worms
request: fluffy, jealous classmate and boyfriend Tsukishima
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“No, baka, you have to divide it by two, look.“
Your boyfriend Tsukki pointed helpfully to the middle of the very long equation. You groaned and slumped back in your chair.
“I hate maths.“
“And it hates you, believe me.“
You pouted and poked his shoulder. It quickly turned into a little squabble with Tsukki attacking your pudgy tummy, hips and thighs and Yamaguchi shook his head when he saw you both being so in love.
Your romance was interrupted, however, by a bag of sour gummies being offered to you. It was a second year you had seen around the hallway a few times. He was a bit shorter than Tsukki but had broad shoulders and a kind smile. You wouldn‘t necessarily call him a friend but friend-adjacent seemed to hit it.
“Here, y/n-chan. I just got these at the vending machine and a second one fell out. Want some?“, he reached into the crinkly bag and fished out a green and yellow worm covered in sour crystals.
Tsukki glared. His first instinct was to take that worm and lop it over that idiot‘s shoulder into the trash - but then you‘d give him a twenty minute lecture about wasting food, probably. So he opted for option two, grabbing the worm and plopping it into his mouth, holding eye contact with the guy. The sour gummy distributor frowned, looked at Tsukki, then at you, then got another worm, which was also quickly snatched away by the blonde. You considered your boyfriend with a raised brow. Tsukki pretended nothing was out of the ordinary, chewing and laboriously swallowing the way too sour candy.
“Thank you. I guess… I‘m good.“
The boy bowed and with a sidelong glance to Tsukki left the classroom again. You turned 90 degrees in your chair, clasped your hands in your lap and stared at your boyfriend who just fixed his glasses and held your gaze.
“What?“
“And are we proud of how that just went?“
“No, that was really disgusting.“
“Then why did you do it?“
“Because some guy tried to give sweets to my girlfriend and my girlfriend didn‘t bat an eye.“
“Why would I? I like sour gummies, unlike someone, and he is nice. He wouldn‘t have poisoned them.“
Tsukki grumbled, “Maybe he should have.“
You raised a bemused brow.
“Fine. I‘m sorry. Can we get back to the fascinating world of long divisions?“
He bent forward over your notepad again but you didn‘t follow, still judging him silently.
“I‘ll get you sour gummies during our next break, alright?“
You still didn‘t move.
He scoffed, “I was jealous, okay? Can we now please forget this ever happened?“
You hummed, pretending to tap your chin thoughtfully but instead your finger pointed discreetly at your lips.
He hid his smile behind an exasperated sigh. Grabbing the seat of your chair he abruptly pulled you closer to him and leaned in to kiss you, swiping his tongue into your mouth to share the sour flavor you loved so much.
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a/n: the third sour worm is Tsukki
Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoyed it 🌟
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ofoceansandtombsanew · 6 months ago
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are there any youtube channels you like watching for japanese studies?
Yeah I have some recommendations. I break my language stuff into study purposes and entertainment purposes. So channels I watch explicitly for studying and reviewing grammar rules and note taking and channels I watch for fun and laidback listening practice.
Because I think a mixture of both are pretty important for my own progress. Sometimes I am in the mood to study and other times I can't really bothered whether it be because I'm busy or lazy.
Study Purposes
Miku Real Japanese
Japanese Ammo with Misa
Mochi Real Japanese
YuYu Nihongo (this channel is specifically for learning Japanese through Spanish though)
YuYu Nihongo Podcast
Entertainment Purposes
Honestly, just about anything or anyone will do in this section as long as you find someone you like personally. But here are some stand out channels I enjoy watching/listening to.
じんむ - ACNH youtuber primarily but you'll see her playing other games like the Suika game.
マフィア梶田と中村悠一の「わしゃがなTV」 - a channel ran by Mafia Kajita and Nakamura Yuuichi (JP voice actor for Gojou Satoru, Gray Fullbuster, Sohma Shigure in Furuba 2019). They do a lot of things related to card games, video game streams, and things like that. They usually have JP subtitles on the screen.
梶裕貴 - the channel ran by Japanese VA Kaji Yuki (Eren Jaeger, Todoroki Shouto). I love when he plays visual novels he voices in, he's pretty hilarious.
ひかりん♂🍡- now these aren't actually the JJK VAs but people who are mimicking the voices. But they're pretty fucking funny and they play in character, so I enjoy watching their content. They have shortform and long form videos for your amusement. Usually they have JP subtitles on the screen.
良平は酒飲みながらゲームしたい。- Kimura Ryohei's (HQ Bokuto, Childe from Genshin, that blond dude from Kuroko no Basket) official channel. He's been streaming a lot of Genshin lately.
Tbh a lot of VAs seem to have channels, so I'd try looking them up. These are the ones that I've been watching most lately or tend to get a lot of notifs for.
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whalesforhands · 11 months ago
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kaizen daycare! 2
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“(name)-sensei! Why’d you look so n-nerv—“ His little eyebrows furrow, tiny hand coming up to scratch his head in focused thought. “Nerv-y?”
(He promised Nanamin he would use a new word today.)
You giggle as you ruffle his hair. “That was a wonderful try, Yuuji-kun.” Two of your hands settle on his squishy cheeks as he stares up at you. “But I suppose I am a little nervous.”
Hmm… So that’s how it was pronounced! He’s gonna tell Nanamin he tried anyway. But… What’s causing you to be this way, though? That faraway look in your eyes is troubling him too… Oh!
“Didya forget to eat today, (name)-sensei?!” A pat to your knee as he stares up at you, all sparkly gaze and blushy cheeks with a smile that was overflowing with glowing excitement.
So cute. He reminds you of a blooming flower.
“Ahah, Yuuji-kun that’s not—“
Blonde, brunettes and raven-haired heads perk up at the little boy’s voice, their attention lost on the toys as they quickly start to trickle out of your sight and making a run for their cubbies. Are they-
“I got riceballs today!”
“Nanamin said he made me karaage!”
“Papa said our chara-bens are cute today too!”
“Daddy bought us kikufuku mochi for dessert!”
“Ahh, wait— Children-!” You realized a little too late.
It isn’t long before a clatter of bento boxes and a small assortment of various treats settle themselves in front of you, scattered into a small pile as the twins start pushing their treats forward a little more to make you notice it first.
“Mmm! (nwame)-swensei mwakes goodsh food!” Kugisaki Nobara finds herself being fed an adult’s lunch as she chews, her eyes closed in satisfaction and her feet kicking about as she continues to savour the taste of the food you were sharing with her.
(Sharing is an understatement. You’re surprised by how much she could eat, and how she was vacuuming up almost the entirety of your own packed lunch.)
“I’ll mwake sure to-“ She stops when she sees your stern gaze, not minding at all but taking the moment to swallow. “Forget my bento more off-then!” You only giggle as you shake your head in response, wiping off the grain of rice at the corner of her lips.
“Your grandma will be sad if you don’t eat her food often, Nobara-chan. You have to remember to bring it all the time, okay?”
“Mmm…” She’s still thinking as she watches your amused face, a hand on her cheek. “If (name)-sensei thinks so…” Her face breaks into a grin as she shows you a thumbs-up. “Okay!”
You hear several growls next to you. A turn of your head reveals the wanting gaze of the rest of your kids, all hungry ministrations of eating their own packed lunches stopped.
“Eh…?” The chopsticks in your hand have paused midair in bewilderment, wrist just in distance of Megumi as he makes a small grab for it, leading your utensil into his mouth as he noms down on the tamagoyaki you held.
“…it’s good…!” His eyes sparkle as he turns his head to face the growing pouts of his classmates, the rising jealousy not at all apparent to him as he feels you gently pry the chopsticks out of his mouth, a small tap to his nose in slight scolding that makes him nearly want to sneeze.
“Nanako wants some too!”
“M-mimiko as well!”
“I’m still hungry, (name)-sensei!”
“E-eh???? (name)-sensei was feeding me first!”
In the end, you had an empty lunch box and a very, very satisfied class of kids who had very full bellies that day.
(Are they trying to pay you back for that day? You’re really starting to think you have the sweetest kids to ever exist.)
“You all…” Megumi shifts closer to you, nestling himself on your lap as your hand goes up to support him, beginning to peek up at your face. You had started to tremble from where you sat on the floor of the foam-tiled play area, growing silent as the rest of the kids slowly crowded around you.
(Were they in trouble? Are you upset with them…? Please, please don’t be! They’re good kids!)
Megumi catches a glimmer forming at the corner of your eye, his small hands starting to grip onto your shirt and his green eyes starting to widen as he realizes that you’re cryi—
“Are so cute!” You’re already scooping them all into your arms, your face hot with gratuitous joy as you embrace the squealing kids close to you, enjoying their cuddly warmth and pats of your face.
(“Oh, but-” You begin to tut, staring down at the five kids squished together on your lap. “I have my own lunch today, kids.”
There’s a glower on their faces, disappointment and disheartened expressions clear and evident. It squeezes at your heart in guilt as the colorful plastic wrapping of one of the sweets is captured from the corner of your eye.
“B-but! It seems that I would need help clearing all these treats up!”)
——
You tiptoe out the room, gently shutting the door of the nap room behind you.
“Good work today.” Ieiri Shoko is sipping her second cup of coffee of the day as she appears behind you, clearly amused at your frazzled form after putting the children to sleep.
“There’s nothing good about today…” You’re sulking as you slump against the door, your knees bent as you let out a loud sigh.
A smirk appears on her face. “Why? Scared of being alone with a couple guys and their kids?” She heard the whole conversation. Perks of being one of the first few to arrive just to get some time to be alone with you.
Your feet shift nervously as you hands begin to fiddle with each other, a sigh escaping your lips as you lean back against the door. “You know I’m no good at being social, Shoko…”
You’re pouting at her as your cheeks start to warm from embarrassment. “What if they find me weird and unsettling and—“ You nearly want to scream. “What if they pull Megumi and the twins out of school because they think I’m unsuitable—“ You stop yourself. “But at the same time if they’ve moved into the neighborhood I’ll be running into them 24/7! If they find out I’m just some loser who stays at home all day and reads—“
You cough to cut yourself off at your spiel. Relax… You take in a deep breath as you finally start to calm. “And what if…” Your eyes flicker towards the ground. “They just… Don’t like me?”
A beat passes, and another.
Her eyes trail off to the side, letting the silence beat amongst the both of you. “They’ll like you like I love you, (name).” Her dark eyes meet yours, her steps stopping right before you as you catch the sight of her heels. “And if you’re so worried, you could always catch dinner with me instead as an excuse.”
(She would even call him up using the school register to tell him you can’t make it because your plant died or some other stupid excuse if that was what you wanted.)
“You’re so kind Shoko…!” You tackle her into a hug. “Your kindness precedes a being like me!” You pull back, glancing up at her blank, unimpressed gaze as you let a smile grace your face. “Jokes aside,” You scratch your cheek.
“I think it’s too late to even fully reject him now…”
You gulp nervously as the domineering man stood before you, all smiles and teeth and turned up eyes behind dark sunglasses that gleam with expectant want.
“I-I think that I have—“ Distance is closed in an instance, a towering frame leaning over you and breaking all boundaries of personal space.
“Y’know, the kids are gonna be super super excited once they find out we’re moving in next to ya!” Large porcelain hands reach up to grasp both of your own in his. “Won’tcha please come make them happy? Megumi and the twins talk about you lots, ya know? They even forget to eat sometimes when they get to tell us all about you.” There’s a cute pout on his face that makes your stomach swirl, your bewildered eyes starting to twirl as the scent of his cologne invades your nose…
(He’s so handsome… And so thoughtful of his kids… Ahh, you can feel your heart stutter…)
“I-I suppose I do have some free time today…!” He’s so close! If he leans down anymore, your lips would be—!
“Oho, that’s nice to hear, sensei!” A grin and a pat to your head. “We should have fully settled in by this afternoon, so I’ll come pick ya up after school, kay?” He pulls himself away (begrudgingly) as he pats his pockets for his car keys.
“O-oh, that’s not—“
“See ya later, sweetheart!” He’s practically already skipping out the door, sending you a salute and a wink as you stand there in stunned silence.
It looks like you have plans tonight with your neighbour… You turn towards the corridor before you pause in your steps abruptly, a small chill going up your spine.
Did you ever tell him your unit number…?
(Oh, you must’ve forgotten to close a window somewhere. No time to dawdle on your bad memory now when the kids’ health is at stake!)
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Notes:
You did actually go pretty hungry that day considering your lunch was fully consumed by 5 overeager toddlers. Shoko shared her convenience store sandwich with you.
Suguru heard the story of your shared lunch from Mimiko and used that as an excuse to talk recipes with you. Character-bentos are a popular topic between the both of you.
nvy’s aftertalk:
to all the anons who guessed that i was watching gakuen babysitters i am ashamed to admit that you are right i am a sucker for babies and cannot stop rewatching this dumb anime
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chronic-claire-universe · 1 year ago
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Tokyo Revengers: Daddy's Girls And Their Nicknames
Hello dust bunnies. I came up with this little headcanons, the dads are back and they're the softest ever. Here for you, dads with the prettiest nickname for their daughter
Characthers: Hajime Kokonoi, Ran Haitani, Shuji Hanma
Warnings: None, Fluff, Daddy's Girl, Pregnancy
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Hajime Kokonoi calls his daughter Hiname jewel. There's nothing that values more than his little girl, something that money couldn't ever buy in a lifetime: the love and then the physical embodiment of your love for each other, crafted in a 4 years old blackhaired girl with her father'eyes shape and your e/c and your smile. Sometimes she can be the spoiled and most sassy little girl ever but to Koko, she will always be his valued jewel that he can be proud of and show her off even after saying the most degrading comment about her nanny, "Is this how you came out of your apartment to come here for me? Let me ask daddy if we can do online shopping for you Miss Nami", Koko proudly nod and gives the nanny his black card "That's my jewel, show her how to do shopping", he says before waving goodbye holding your hand, leaving a clueless nanny, confused by your daughter behaviour and her father casually giving her his black card just to do some shopping, money is not as important as his jewel's happiness.
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Ren Haitani is yours and Ran's perfect miracle, highly desired by the man, your daughter had her nickname even before being born: water lily. The man secretly wanted from the start of the relationship to be father of a pretty girl that inherited his blond hair and violet eyes and this what happened after years together. The newborn is the sweetest, but just like her father she gets really cranky if she doesn't have her proper sleep when she needs it. It's still weird for you to see how she calms down only when her father's hold her and start pronouncing her nickname instantly calming the baby down "Water lily? My my you need your beauty sleep if you want to grow up as pretty and strong like your mommy and daddy" Ren blinks her eyes and seize her whimpers as soon as she hears the nickname and soon she cooes her tiny fist into her father's chest falling asleep leaving you flabbergasted on how easily it was for Ran to calm her down, he sure knows how to handle your daughter but you're not sure how this is the possible by just pronouncing his nickname for her.
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Shuji Hanma plays with fire, everything was unplanned with Emiko, since her conceivement to her gender. Hanma got you pregnant accidentaly but you decided to welcome this as soon as you've seen his best effort into taking responsabilities. At one point Hanma kept bragging on how he felt you were going to have a son since your baby kicked so hard in your belly that it couldn’t be a "frail little girl". Boy was he wrong, his little pumpkin is the sweetest thing ever just like you but sometimes she can show her hidden side just like a pumpkin does with the right ingredient. The toddler is learning to walk and she's the brightest one ever, coeeing and walking everywhere, gripping into her fathers pants from the floor and let them fall, and soon pouting to be held by her tall father and lean to him as she didn't cause shenaningans just one minute before all over the living room.
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swallowtail-lotus · 8 months ago
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Sakura Mochi {Hades x Mitsuri!Reader}
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Repost
I'm in love with Hades as always 😂
Nothing too bad
____
"Is there any reason why you're so excited?" The lovely voice of the Goddess of Beauty, Aphrodite broke you out of your dream-like stance. You turned to face the beautiful goddess with the smile most of the deities grew to love.
"I'm eager to see Lord Hades! I haven't seen him for thousands of years!" You exclaimed, cupping your own face with your dainty hands.
"I take it you heard word of his arrival?" The goddess giggled. You nodded your head fast, the excitement growing more and more. Aphrodite always found it amusing to see you fawn over certain deities.
"I wonder what he looks like now? Will he be the same or will he look different?" You asked, mostly to yourself. Aphrodite opened her mouth but stopped when the smell of sweets caught her attention.
"You've been eating those sweets again, haven't you?" Aphrodite teased, her blue eyes filled with mischief. You lowered your head down in embarrassment.
"I can't help it! They're so delicious!" You said, folding your arms and huffed like a child.
"Anyways, I shall leave you be! Tell me everything when you're finished!" The Goddess was carried away by her golem like male servants. You stood in place, trying to process her words.
"Eh?! Aphrodite!!"
___
You smiled like a child that just received their favourite candy as you practically chomped down on your favourite sweets. After finishing a huge bowl full of them, you began walking around. You realised that you had to look for the god you've been waiting on all day, so you picked up the pace.
Meanwhile, a god with formal wear was on his way back to Helheim when his nose picked up a sweet smelling scent. It was something unfamiliar to him, but he remembered something his younger brother told him.
"If you suddenly smell something sweet, to be more specific, the scent of cake, a little goddess may be nearby!"
Hades was well aware of his younger brother's... problem when it came to females, but never really got involved in any way. He assumed this little goddess was his next target, but at the same time, he wanted to see why most of the gods spoke so fondly of her. Now that he thought about it, Zeus had never spoke of her in such a way that implied wanting to sleep with her. He spoke about her as if she was a daughter to him.
The scent got stronger, but he never moved an inch. He felt something run into his side and turned a little to face whoever it was. To his surprise, it was a smaller female with (f/c) and (s/fc) hair.
You managed to catch yourself before you could injure yourself. Your two toned hair was a little messy from the running, but it was still in good condition. When you looked up, you couldn't believe who you ran into.
"Ah! I'm so sorry, Lord Hades! I was in a rush and-"
"It's fine, (Y/n). But please be careful next time."
You shut your mouth, nervously playing with your hair. His voice was so calming it made you explode with embarrassment.
"Okay!" Your answer came out shaky.
"Lord Hades is so handsome! He looks so dominating!" Gushing about the stoic god in your mind, your gaze landed on the floor, avoiding the slight mischief in the god's eye.
"Lord Zeus must've told Lord Hades my name. Hearing him say it makes my heart flutter!"
You mustered enough courage to face the god again, looking him straight in his eye. His fingers made their way under your chin and tilted it up and leaned closer to your ear.
"Your scent is intoxicating. Hopefully you taste the same." His breath tickled your ear and sent chills down your spine. He pulled away and left you, his lips forming a smirk. You stared blankly at the ceiling, not blinking even once. After a minute, you fell to your knees. You clutched your chest with your hands, trying to calm down your heart.
From afar, a certain blonde goddess had watched it all and giggled to herself.
"This is really interesting. I wonder what will happen next~"
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yeppeun-riaa · 8 months ago
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Hi, how are you? I saw on your profile that you like Ran so I was wondering if you have some headcannons for him and if you could share? If you want, it can be his and Rindou or just Ran... Your preference ♡
hii, I'm pretty okay thanks🫶🏻 and I have a few!
»»————- ★ ————-««
Ran definitely went through a lot of girls and when he was in tenjiku, he never saw himself committing to a relationship
He wants to learn baking, specifically so he could make mont blanc....key word 'wants' he's to lazy to actually attempt it
Someone told me that ran is a yellow flag, and now I firmly believe that
He takes time to listen to whatever beats rindou makes, he's impressed but will always tease him before giving actual feedback
He plays video games with rindou, shion and mochi (occasionally kakucho) on weekends
He brought up the idea of having different colored uniforms to stand out
He loves to intimidate people for fun
100% sure he talked his way out of trouble at least 10 times before
He knows he has charisma and takes full advantage of that
He would never hit a woman (good timeline), in the bad timeline he'd pay someone to do it for him:)
Its important to ran that rindou gets along with his partner, if rindou asks ran would consider breaking up with his partner
he cried a bit when he cut his hair, rindou laughed at him
he hangs out mostly with mochi and kakucho while rindou hangs out with shion more
He and rindou are natural blondes🤷🏻‍♀️
They're dad left them but is a dilf👹
They're mom is a rich business woman
he hates talking about his feelings, even to rindou
he dislikes hanma and the tenjiku guys try to keep them away from eachother bc hanma is a bitch and ran will not hesitate to hit him with his baton
Hes a big fan of pda, loves to show his partner off and spoil them
He's a sucker for if his partner wears skirts
Hes an ass and thigh guy
ran can't swim, but rindou can
rans lazy but when it comes down to it, he gets shit done
Hes good at at sports, but doesn't really participate in them
Its rare for him to be on time to anything
Hes clingy when drunk
Has a huuggee sweet tooth
»»————- ★ ————-««
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