Goku Black X Reader: Forbidden Fruit (Chapter 18: Reunion)

Goku Black x Reader: Forbidden Fruit (Chapter 18: Reunion)

Black and Trunks had just passed between two large, jagged mountains after seven hard hours of unsuccessful scouting. They had checked every beach and forest they had come near, yet there was still no sign of you or traces of Zamasu’s magic. And since they couldn’t rely on your chi which had weakened significantly since your escape, the best they could do was look by hand, which didn’t provide a very fast recovery.

“Black! Look!” Trunks’ frantic call snapped Black out of his thoughts as they continued to zoom through the air. “Is that a fire?”

She said red lights………He wondered. Could she have meant……

You had fainted before he could think up a reply, and no matter how hard he tried he was still unable to communicate telepathically with you. His eyes widened when he finally figured out your cryptic plea for help.

Black could see it. Billowing clouds of smoke and flashes of bright white lightning just up ahead, in a thick-wooded forest.

“She’s there!” Black shouted frenziedly, shooting past the confused teenager.

“What?! How would you know?!”

“Just shut up and follow me fool! There’s no time to explain!” Black hollered back, not keeping his eyes away from the wildfire.

“Y/n? Y/n!” There was no response that could be heard from the chaos below.

Two pairs of keen eyes scanned the hellish forest floor, searching for any sign of you as they flew in circles barely above reach of the scorching heat.

“Look!” Trunks shouted, pointing triumphantly at a dot in the crumbling undergrowth. “It’s Y/n!”

They both dove to you at the same time, Black overtaking Trunks as his heart beat furiously against his ribcage. The smoke didn’t affect his keen senses in the slightest, but it was still hard for the once heartless God to breathe.

From their position, all the two warriors could see was only half your body, splayed out underneath a heavy blackened trunk. Bright red tongues lapped at your skin, but you didn’t appear to be moving.

“Shit!”

Black reached you first, tossing the gigantic tree of you like it weighed nothing, which it probably did to him at least. He grabbed you and cradled you in his arms, Trunks beginning to protest until he saw the state of your legs.

“That’s going to hurt, even if she is immortal,” Trunks winced in sympathy. “It’s a good thing she’s knocked out cold, and even better that we have a Senzu Bean.”

“Let’s get her out of here first,” Black murmured, relief flooding through him once he saw the slight rising and falling of your chest. He rubbed a bit of soot of your face and adjusted you a bit in his arms, forgetting Trunks who was watching in disbelief. Something flitted in his eye when he looked at you, but it was gone so fast that Trunks wasn’t able to completely discern what it was.

Can Black really be….Is that why he wanted Y/n back so badly? No, it can’t be, can it? He a psychopathic murderer!

Thoughts swirled like a hurricane in his brain making him slightly light-headed, and Black must have noticed as Trunks began to sway on his feet. Even Saiyans weren’t completely immune to fire.

“We should get the Hell out of here before you pass out too, and if you do, I’m leaving you here,” Black snapped, roughly shaking him from his astonishment. There were a time and a place, but here was neither of those.

“Come on!” Black sprung off into the sky, the confused teenager following shakily behind, mind still reeling.

“We’ll stop here,” The older Saiyan commanded with a tone that called for no objections as he descended into one of the most habitable caves in the twin peaks they had just passed. Throughout the entire flight Trunks hadn’t dared to utter a single word, not even looking at him. They placed you on the floor, cushioning your head with Trunks’ sword and Black’s sash, using the boy’s jacket as a blanket. It wasn’t the best, but it was still much better than absolutely nothing. If Trunks wasn’t here, then Black would have preferred to keep you in his lap, where you could be warmer and safer, but there was no way he was going to do that with Earth’s mightiest hero glaring at him like a hawk. Even slightly burnt by the fire, he was still dangerous. Some of the skin on Trunks’ hand had been seared off when they had touched down, but that wouldn’t stop him from grabbing his sword.

“What, cat got your tongue?” Black jeered once you were settled in, and suddenly Trunks’ hatred returned. Or more specifically, sprung back to the surface. It had never left. Even now his mother’s death still hurt.

“Yeah what-” His voice began to grow louder until the oncoming argument was halted by your frail moan of discomfort.

“Just get the damn Senzu,” Black growled lowly, his onyx eyes mere stormy slits.

Trunks closed his jaw with an audible snap, and clenching his fists, he forced himself to calm down, at least until you had healed a little. Digging around his dirty Capsule Corp jacket, his fingers closed around the last Senzu.

Gently, he pried open your dry lips with one hand while the other held your head, and managed to slip the bean inside your mouth without choking you. Your face relaxed and you appeared to go limp in his hands, a small smile twitching at the corner of Trunks’ mouth as he stared at you in solace. Black had to physically restrain himself from attacking the boy when he saw that Trunks was touching what was rightfully his, though he knew you would disapprove if you were awake.

I just have to deal with him a little longer, Black told himself, struggling to contain his composure. They were one word away from continuing their fight, and your presence was the only thing stopping them.

For now, all they could do was to wait for you to rest up enough to fly back to Zamasu. There were too many things that needed to be sorted out, and frankly, Trunks wondered if they would ever be able to untangle the spider’s web of murder and secrets. After returning you to your former position, Trunks slid as far away from Black as possible while still being close enough to keep an eye on you, sitting against the wall with one tired eye open. Like Black, he had to suppress the impulse to spring to action when he saw the spiky-haired God scoot closer to you, though not yet touching.

Though his feelings for you weren’t the same as Black’s, his survival this far was partly owing to you, saving his life multiple times. Over time, he had come to think of you as one of his closest friends, on par with Mai. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep you safe much like Black, though the idea that that serial killer had his sights set on you made his insides riot.

As hard as Trunks fought to stay awake, he finally lost to the alleviating lull of sleep’s velvety wings, whisking him off into another dimension. Black waited until the hero’s head hit his chest before moving over to you, losing all interest in Trunks when he glanced over at your moonlit figure.

Even after everything you had been through you still looked to him the same as the day he had first met you, more alluring than any being in the universe. Sliding his fingers into your h/c locks, he began untangling all the knots and picking out the bits of leaves from your hair. The silver moonshine framed your face beautifully, and even with all the soot and wounds on you it made you no less appealing to him.

After all this time he was still unsure what caused him to obsess over you, and at this point he didn’t really care anymore. Love was still a foreign emotion to the lonely God, and even in his youth he had never experienced anything remotely like it. At this moment he wasn’t really sure what he felt for you, Hell, it might not even be love. Whatever it was, it inexplicably drew him to you. Black used to try to convince himself that it was because you were technically immortal and one of the only females left who genuinely didn’t make him vomit when he touched them, but now he knew that it was a complete lie to justify his attraction. Your immortality had nothing to do with it, though it definitely made things a whole lot less complicated. Or maybe it was the feeling of not wanting to be alone for the rest of eternity, once the Zero Mortal Plan had been completed, though he would never admit it to anyone.

However, none of those seemed to play as big as a factor as the fact that you were simply different, unusually kind and capable of just enjoying life as it is, and not constantly seeking for more as he’d seen many other beings do, wasting their life away to obtain something they could never reach.

He hated vanity, something the earth was sweltering with, and something that you seemed to be nearly or even completely devoid of. And best of all, you didn’t seem to despise him, even after everything he had put you through, and Black had certainly given you numerous reasons to. Despite these feelings, there was still occasionally the irrational, terrible urge to kill every human being in the vicinity, which usually meant you. But he managed to restrain himself every time, avoiding your presence and venting on something else. The old Zamasu had not completely dominated and the lingering presence of Son Goku was not quite gone. They molded together to form someone entirely knew, Goku Black. He knew he wasn’t either men, but still it felt like his soul and body were at war sometimes. It frightened him, that maybe one day the good Saiyan’s presence would win and turn him soft, but worst of all was the thought that perhaps Zamasu’s hateful habits would overbear all reason and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from wounding you. Though you couldn’t die, he was sure the Zamasu he had once been could find a way to make it living Hell for you.

Even now, when everything was calm for once, he could still feel the war raging on inside him. There was no doubt whatsoever that he wanted you, but his morals were battling against that desire. Son Goku’s morality and Zamasu’s ambition, that was made them different, and that was what made him. It was true that he was a deity in a mortal body, but someone as strong as the kind-hearted Saiyan would not let his body go completely, especially when it was taken and used in such a manner. It was something so simple even the people of earth could understand. A different environment could produce two versions of the same person, and Goku’s body was a different environment in a sense. And it had changed him.

But I’m neither of them, Black assured himself. I still hate humans. That’s for sure and it always will be, I wouldn’t want to like them anyways. But there is one I can tolerate.

That’s what split him from Zamasu. That one exception that the Kai could not make.

You.

And the Zamasu inside him howled in fury.

“You should see how you make me, Y/n.” Black exhaled, placing his head next to yours, clenching his eyes shut.

To his surprise, one of your e/c orbs opened slightly, focusing on his features.

“I know, Black.”

His breath hitched in his throat, and he seemed at loss for words. “You should go back to sleep,” he lied. No, that was the last thing he wanted after being apart from you for so long that he had missed the sound of your voice.

“I can’t,” You murmured back, entwining his hand in yours, to which he stared at in shock and maybe even a little discomfort. “I can’t while people are dying.”

“You know exactly why they’re dying Y/n; they’re dying for paradise.”

“Oh Black, I know that you have a good goal in mind but there are better ways to do things than by killing everyone. As much as I appreciate your ambition, I don’t think this is the right way to get there.”

He gave you no response, instead just continued to gaze into your eyes.

“You really believe that, huh?” Black grumbled, you could tell that he was irritated but it was better than before when he would become physically aggressive every time something ticked him off. It didn’t matter what it was, if a branch hit him in the face he would blow up the tree, and if it was raining when he didn’t want it to then he could disperse the clouds with special chi blasts. It was even more violent with humans, in which case he had no mercy. You were the only exception to his purposeful brutality, and you were borderline a deity with human blood. And even then, he had broken your nose or hand multiple times on accident when you startled him. He never meant to hurt you those times, but violence seemed to be ingrained into his muscles.

Eventually, after a few more minutes of debate, you realized there was no point in arguing with him over mortals at this time, and especially when you were still very feeble. He could either remain silent for days or argue for hours, and usually there was no in-between.

“Anyways,” You tried steering the topic away from mass genocide, and onto a slightly less gruesome subject. “I never thought you would team up with Trunks.”

Black just huffed and looked away from you, muttering something about half-breeds under his breath. “That persistent little brat wouldn’t fucking leave me alone,” he growled. “I can still kill him though.”

“No!” You grabbed his shirt as he began to raise his arm, slapping his glowing hand out of the air. Immediately tensing up when you realized what you did, you scrunched your eyes shut in case he decided to hit you. Instead, all you got was a light smack to the head and opening his eyes, you could see him smirking.

“I’m not going to hit you, Y/n. You remember what happened last time.”

Back then, he had tried to surprise you by punching you, a little bit too eagerly, and ended up nearly breaking your entire torso. Sometimes he didn’t even know his own strength, and more specifically Goku’s. When he had first hijacked the body, their cabin would be filled with constant noise when everything he touched shattered into a million pieces, notably several sets of tea cups, chairs, and doors. Zamasu had become so angry that he had forced his partner outside for a day to learn to control his strength, which was part of the reason why there was a sparse space of empty land surrounding the cabin. It wasn’t noticeable, but upon closer inspection quite a number of the trunks were mutilated from his “gentle” practice.

“I know you would never hurt me on purpose, Black.” You reassured him, “I trust you.”

He was taken by your sheer innocence, and sullenly wondered how you could ever have been born in a world like this. It just wasn’t fair, but life never was.

A yawn forced its way past your lips, capturing Black’s attention.

“You should go to sleep Y/n, the faster you recover the sooner we can return and sort this whole mess out,” Black hummed tenderly against your cheek.

“But I-” You tried to protest, though it was promptly muffled against his chest when he pulled you closer.

“No buts. Sleep, now.” His grip tightened around your back, letting you know that there was no room for arguments.

It wasn’t over yet and you both knew it, but frankly you didn’t have enough energy to care at the moment. Giving up once you realized there was no point in arguing with him, you soon fell asleep in his arms, lulled by the rhythmic thumping of his heart and the warmth of his firm body.

You had never slept so well.

Mayhem

"Genos..."

"Yes Sen-" A piece of soap came soaring in a wide arc to smack the young cyborg full on the face, stunning him into silence for a second. It fell into his hand, now imprinted with the vague definition of his features as a scream ran out from inside the locker room.

He frowned upon closer inspection; was that a bite mark embedded deep on the surface of the disfigured soap?

"Genos. Look," Saitama pointed calmly behind him in the doorway, his oval face boasting the same unreadable expression as always, a complete contrast to the chaos unfolding before them.

God was dead, and so were any of their remaining brain cells.

They, as in Metal Bat and Garou, were in the process of bashing each other's brains out in front of the hot tub with nothing but small towels wrapped around their waists, while a scantily clad Mumen Rider tried unsuccessfully to hold them apart. Bang and Atomic Samurai sat impassively in the tub behind them, occasionally commenting on their moves and acting as if nothing was wrong with two extremely buff and hot-headed boys trying their damn hardest to throttle each other. And was a baseball bat even allowed inside a locker room?

"Sensei, should we do something?" Genos asked with a glance at the bald hero.

"Nah, let's just find a place to sit before they burn down the building."

And part of him almost wished they did when Puri Puri Prisoner suddenly strutted in front of them buck-ass nude, heading with questionable intentions straight for Zombieman who was just trying to wash his hair on the bench.

"Hey! Cut it out you idiots! No one wants to deal with you two so just get out!" Another familiar voice rang out above all the noise as Amai Mask stomped over to the teenage brawlers, who were now completely naked and bloody. Neither pair seemed to realize that their towels had long been discarded, and Metal Bat was bleeding heavily from the face while Garou sported a few dark-colored bruises. Metal Bat swung once Amai Mask was within range, spitting out a few colorful curses that would put any sailor to shame as he missed by a hair.

The battle escalated, now a three-way fight as Mumen Rider lay passed out a few feet away, caught in the earlier crossfire. The poor guy would need new glasses once again.

"Here should be a good spot," Saitama said, pointing at a few unoccupied benches further away. It wasn't until a solid ten minutes that he sensed something was off, as if someone was watching him. Turning to the left, he was met with the blank gaze of a man in a furry white suit perched on top of the tiled wall, Watchdog Man.

How long has this guy been watching me?

He gazed back but Watchdog Man refused to look away. Maybe he was in an odd coma or something.

Okay...

"Sensei what's wrong?" Genos asked, as if sensing his discomfort.

"It's nothing I-" He was interrupted by a war cry as a ninja star suddenly lodged itself in the wall in front of him.

"Saitama! I've tracked you all the way here, now come fight me!" Sonic howled, not even waiting for a reply as he leapt towards him fully clothed from the entrance.

At least this one has clothes on, Saitama sighed.

"I'll take care of this Sensei!" Genos zoomed past him, incinerator glowing orange.

"No wait Genos! Don't use your cannons-"

BOOM!

The outer layer of the wall on the opposite side crumbled, leaving charred concrete behind as Sonic bounced around the open area.

"Ah, too late. Well, hopefully he has enough to pay for the repairs."

"Ah shit! You'll pay for that!" Flashy Flash roared as Sonic and Genos barreled into him and knocked him into a bucket of soapy water.

"Wait Flashy Flash!" Child Emperor pleaded, immediately chasing after them with the help of mechanical spider legs that sprouted from his backpack. The bathhouse really needed to upgrade their security. The three of them were now a dizzy blur dancing around the locker room.

Zombieman was sent flying into the wall as they rammed into him blindly, the back of his head hitting the wall with a sickening crack.

"Sorry!"

"Oh my God you killed him!" Puri Puri Prisoner sobbed in anguish, sprinting after him in all his naked glory.

Truth be told, to Zombieman the brief respite that death offered was far better than the awkward conversation he had been having with the ex-convict after the shittiest pick-up line he had ever heard in his entire immortal life.

"Have you ever been arrested?" Puri Puri Prisoner purred, fluttering his eyelashes at the pale man.

Zombieman furrowed his brows, replying with a very confused and hesitant "No?"

"Why do you ask?" He continued, nearly shuddering at the way the tall hero was eyeing his exposed chest.

"Because it must be illegal to look that good," Puri Puri Prisoner finished, and Zombieman could swear that the world was out to get him.

"Uh thanks," he muttered awkwardly. Never in his life would he have thought he would have be hit on by a criminal hero in the middle of a locker room full of out-of-control men acting like it was the goddamn apocalypse.

Yeah, death sounded good right about now. He would take every precious second enjoying the darkness before he healed and was dragged back into that living nightmare. Perhaps it was time to invest in some therapy.

"Garou, my boy, did you forget every technique I taught you? You're holding your hand wrong. You need to strike with your palm at an angle," Bang corrected as Metal Bat dodged his attack.

"Shut up old man! I wasn't trying to use your stupid technique anyways!" Garou snarled, springing forward again.

"Hey whose side are ya on anyways?"

"Sorry Metal Bat, old men like myself just can't help it," Bang grinned sheepishly.

"You dare turn your back on me?" Amai Mask punched him in the ribs with his momentary distraction, only enraging the seventeen-year-old more.

"I'll rip yer fucking head off you prick!"

"I don't think I ever want to come here again," Saitama said calmly as he watched a fire break out in the wet bathhouse.

A ninja star exploded behind him as Puri Puri Prisoner strutted past his vision. 

Not Really Katsumi

Retsu hasn’t really met many other Kaioh’s in his lifetime, as most of them remained in China while he bounced back and forth between Bailin Temple and the ShinShinKai in Japan. Therefore he was more than surprised when he saw Katsumi standing in the hallway with the famous Poison Hand User, Li Kaioh.

When did he fly to China? And how did he lose that much weight?

“Katsumi?”

He halted in his tracks, staring confusedly at the back of his head from the distance until Li Kaioh awkwardly cleared his throat and whispered something in Chinese to the other man.

Strange. When did Katsumi learn Chinese?

“Retsu! There you are, I had something to discuss with you!” Baki sprinted up to him with a tired smile on his face, effectively drawing his attention away from the pair. “Oh, hey Katsumi. Talk to you later!” The scrawny teenager waved and pulled Retsu away, missing the moment when “Katsumi” turned around.

“Who were they talking to?” Han Kaioh asked his brother, who could only shake his head with a puzzled look on his face. “Does ‘Katsumi’ mean something in Japanese?”

“No idea. Perhaps they were calling you ugly.”

“Mm, unlikely unless it was directed at you dear brother. Even if you are the younger one you still look a decade older,” he laughed lightly at the expression on Li’s face as a tick popped out on his forehead. It would be quite unfortunate if he got poisoned tonight, wouldn’t it?

“Oh don’t look at me like that brother, I was just kidding. Kind of. Hm, not really. Seriously though, what is a ‘Katsumi’?”

***

It wasn’t until later that they were in the same room did Retsu finally get a good look at who he had originally assumed was the thick-set karate practitioner from the ShinShinKai, though the only distinguishing features were probably his thinner eyebrows and leaner body. Everything about Katsumi Orochi was large, from his boulder of a fist to his non-existent waist, courtesy of a heavily muscled and wide torso. The man was honestly built like a goddamn tree trunk.

Even with all the differences (all two differences), he still heavily resembled Katsumi, and Retsu was subtly wondering how to get a picture of him to show his friend when he got back.

“Brother, Retsu Kaioh is staring at you again,” Li Kaioh glanced over shoulder, catching his eye and quickly looking away. It began to dawn on Retsu that he may be looking like a creep with his constant staring, and it didn’t help that when he first tried to talk to him the first words out of his mouth were in Japanese. All because he looked so much like goddamn Katsumi.

“Just don’t make eye contact Li,” Han sighed. “I hope I don’t have to fight him later. Mixing crazy with genius never ends up well.”

Muscle Heads: Ohma x Raian

Chapter 1: Shut up, Raian

“Oi brat, wake up.” A large fist rapped on the Japanese-styled door separating the man and his neighbor; the occupant still fast asleep on the other side. He waited impatiently for a few seconds before knocking again.

“Hey,” Ohma Tokita raised his voice this time, eye twitching slightly as the sound of Kure Raian’s intense snoring somehow increased in volume.

Noisy idiot.

It was the middle of the night, the only light illuminating the room was thin, slivers of silver moonshine slipping through the curtains. The lithe fighter had about all he could take from his neighbor’s incessant snoring, if it could even be called that. It sounded like a motor engine malfunctioning, dying down every now and again only to suddenly start back up. Raian woke him up three times already, three times in the last five hours, and at this point he was on the verge of throttling him in his sleep. 

As expected, Raian wasn’t exactly the quietest roommate, but it wasn’t exactly like he had much of a choice. The main Kure mansion was mostly full, with the only room left at the end of this hallway a joint room next to Raian. Ohma could guess why his room was the only one unoccupied. Raian, the troublemaker that he was, liked to train late at night, meaning midnight or after, and oftentimes Ohma could hear him smashing something at one in the damn morning, a peal of his familiar cackling laugh piercing his peaceful slumber. For the sake of the old man Erioh who let him live there without rent, he grit his teeth and bore with it. And boy was it hard sometimes.

There’s free food here, Ohma reminded himself. Free food and all the strong fighters anyone could wish for. 

The first day he had moved in after his surgery he had found Raian squatting and looming over him at three a.m., staring down at him with a silent, toothy grin on his face right next to his futon. Ohma never thought there would be anyone weirder than Kiryu Setsuna until then, and in a sleepy haze he threw a sloppy punch that Raian easily dodged. And then that fucker proceeded to jump out his window. In his defense, Ohma was still a bit woozy from the medication for his heart and wasn’t expecting Raian of all people to break into his room, otherwise he probably wouldn’t have missed his target. Karla he had expected, which was why he made sure everything was locked down before he went to bed. But somehow Raian had managed to get through the locks without a sound and then proceeded to leer at him like a stalker.

Regardless, Ohma had grown accustomed to his weird habits as he himself was not exactly normal. But these past two days Raian had begun snoring loudly and constantly, and he was at the end of his rope. Or else he wouldn’t be standing in front of the backdoor, freezing in the chilly winter night in nothing but his boxers.

Damn, Ohma growled as Raian let out a particularly loud rumble, opting to just break the lock and deal with him before he was sentenced to another sleepless night. 

The bolt snapped easily under the pressure of his hand, the door creaking softly as he slid it open, revealing Raian spread-eagle on his back in the middle of the room. Somehow the demon Kure had migrated from his bed to the floor during the night without waking up, mouth parted and drooling.

The wool blankets were strewn around him, tangled around his powerful legs and barely covering what Ohma assumed was his naked groin.

Really? During the winter? Ohma sighed.

He let out an irritated huff and padded towards the younger fighter, nearly tripping over multiple items thrown haphazardly on the floor. Nudging him with his foot, Raian just snorted and rolled over to the other side letting out a string of curses under his breath. Several prods later and he was still snoring soundly, and Ohma subtly wondered how he hadn’t been murdered in his sleep yet. The Kures had a lot of enemies, and he was sure Raian had even more than the average clan member.

“Hey wake up,” Ohma stooped down and shook his shoulders hard, finally waking up the resting boulder.

Apparently Raian wasn’t used to being woken up in the middle of the night, immediately lurching forward and pushing Ohma to the ground with a snarl. “What the fuck do you want bitch?”

“For you to stop snoring, moron,” Ohma squeezed the wrists that were holding him down, eye blazing and rearing for a fight.

“Oh yeah?” Raian taunted with a wide smirk on his face, applying more pressure to his grip and drawing out a growl.

Pulling his leg back, Ohma rammed it into Raian’s stomach and threw him across the room, sending slight tremors through the walls of the house from the force of his kick. It was a miracle none of the other Kures were woken by the racket, but then they were probably already used to whatever unholy sounds came from Raian’s room at night.

Barely fazed, said Kure lunged forward and met him halfway, locking hands and wrestling each other to the carpet with an audible crash.

They rolled across the floor, knocking over any furniture in the way and spitting insults that would make any sailor blush. Normally Ohma was relatively immune to threats and curses, but something about Raian made his temper short-circuit sometimes. Perhaps listening to him “snore” that loudly for over a week had done it.

Eventually, Raian was able to get the upper hand on Ohma, hard knees digging into his waist as he rocked his weight back on the other man’s thighs. His body weight kept him pressed down on the ground, though Ohma could have easily broken free. 

But he was feeling generous (tired) today.

Ohma was almost tempted to smack the sneer off his face, but he knew that would just escalate the fight. Honestly he was surprised the whole place hasn’t been demolished-excluding the fist-sized holes in the plaster-and waking up the entire neighborhood wasn’t exactly on his to-do list.

Just bear with it for now, Ohma thought grumpily. I’ll slap the shit outta him in the morning. Just you wait kid.

He had completely forgotten about Raian’s state of undress until he glanced down, suddenly bucking up his hips and trying to push him off. It wasn’t like Ohma cared much about nakedness, but he’d much rather not have a grown man sitting on his dick when he was only in his boxers. Especially not Kure Raian, who was fully naked like the weirdo he was.

“Get off and put some pants on dipshit!”

Raian’s grin grew impossibly wider and he stuck out his tongue, forcing Ohma back down with his ass. “What, does it bother you or something, you perverted fuck?” With a harsh bark of laughter he roughly ground down on Ohma making him hiss.

“Son of a bitch!” Ohma swore noisily and redoubled his efforts to escape, whipping his head back and forth. This was giving him serious flashbacks to Imai Cosmo. Except back then his adversary was thankfully clothed.

“Uncomfortable? Or just excited to see me?” Raian thrust his face close, making Ohma bang his head on the ground with a solid thump to avoid being headbutted.

“Motherfucker,” Ohma grunted and turned his head to the side, too tired to deal with his bullshit anymore. His eyelids felt heavy, he had barely slept the last two days after all, and training over eight hours a day definitely didn’t help.

For a moment the only sound in the room was their panting, and neither men moved. 

“Going to sleep already?” Raian’s breath was hot on his face, so close that Ohma could smell the scent of the udon he had for dinner mingled with a faint trace of sweat and cologne.

Cologne? Since when did Raian wear cologne?

“Back off, your breath stinks,” Ohma groaned and held a hand between them.

“Oh yeah, you fuck? How about a closer whiff?” Raian cackled.

“For fuck’s sake-” The rest of his sentence was abruptly cut short as Raian surged forward to collide their lips together, or at least tried to. A jolt of pain shot through Ohma’s mouth as their teeth clashed, the familiar metallic tang of blood on his tongue.

Raian latched onto his bottom lip with his teeth, biting down hard as Ohma moaned in pain. Grabbing his shoulders, Ohma tried once again to push him off, but Raian had his biceps in a vice grip and neither fighter was budging.

Fine then, if he wanted to play rough then so be it. 

Snarling, Ohma shifted his weight onto one side and rolled Raian under him with all his strength, placing him on top this time. It shocked the Kure enough to let him go-finally, he was about to chew through his lip, and damned if he had to answer questions the next morning.

“You mothefucker! You call that a damn kiss fucking brat?!” Ohma roared, blood spilling from his cut and dripping down his chin, where it splattered in crimson pools all over Raian’s chest.

“What, like you can do better you dumb virgin fuck!” He flung his head forward again, but this time Ohma was one step ahead of him and got there first, trying to force his tongue in his mouth.

The ensuing battle for dominance was nothing short of a gross mess with an excessive amount of spit and blood, but as Kengan fighters it was nothing compared to the battles they’ve experienced. As expected, neither gave an inch, at least not until Raian suddenly grabbed a fistful of his seaweed hair and gave it a vicious tug, strong enough to pull out a clump of dark brown strands.

“Fuck!” Using the opportunity to slip into his opponent’s mouth, Raian’s victory was short-lived as Ohma took the chance to exact retribution by sinking his teeth deep into his tongue. Huffing through his nose, Raian saw red as Ohma bit down even harder. 

Sharp stabs of pain shot through Ohma’s back as Raian dug his fingers hard into his muscles, which Ohma returned by jabbing as hard as he could into his bulging biceps.

White hot agony exploded behind Ohma’s eyes as the delinquent rammed a knee into his groin and his legs gave out, his forehead bashing against Raian’s upper lip. 

“That...was for the fucking tournament…” Raian wheezed between breaths, chest heaving with the other man still laying on top.

“Shut up...Raian…” Eyes shut tightly, Ohma could feel himself drifting away in the darkness, too tired to even bother getting off of him.

“...You weigh...like a goddamn truck.”

“Shitty brat,” Ohma’s voice was barely audible and he didn’t respond to the poke in his ribs that would have normally pissed him off. There was the soft sound of rustling as Raian shifted underneath him before falling still, hand relaxing on his shoulder.

Giving up trying to fight back the darkness threatening to engulf him, he let the sound of Raian’s quieting pants and warm body lull him to an easy, dreamless sleep. He could always beat him in the morning, after all. 

There was no more snoring for the rest of the night.

***

“What the hell?” In the doorway stood Kure Hollis and Reiichi, who were sent to find them after neither man showed up to breakfast.

“Should we wake them up?” Reiichi whispered. Raian twitched from his position on the ground, face scrunching momentarily but didn’t wake. 

“No, I don’t want to deal with waking up that devil Raian in the morning.”

“Why are they covered in blood? And why is he naked?”

“I don’t know, but don’t tell Karla.” Hollis sighed.

“Don’t tell me what?” Speak of the devil, and she shall arrive.

“Oh fuck.”

Muscle Heads: Ohma x Raian

Chapter 4: FishFace

A resounding splash sent the sparkling trout flying away from where the hunter stood, grumbling angrily as another splash sent water cascading through the air.

"Will you stop that, you bastard?"

"And who's gonna fucking make me, huh?" Kure Raian laughed maniacally as he launched another huge boulder across the lake like he was chucking a bawling newborn. (Assuming that any mother would let him within twenty feet of their children.)

Ohma exhaled irritably as his partner continued flinging rocks and even a few trees like an over-hyper child, creating massive waves in the lake possibly just to annoy him and disrupt his fishing.

After ten minutes, he was sure that there were no fish nor any edible aquatic creature within a quarter mile. A vein throbbed on his temple but he was determined not to give Raian what he wanted, instead heatedly shuffling to a new location further away to fish in peace. The sound of water sloshing in the distance behind made Ohma ground his teeth so hard he felt something shift in his jaw. The black-eyed douchebag must have followed him, confirmed by the rock glancing his ear.

Rocks tumbled underfoot as Raian charged at him.

Without missing a beat, Ohma grabbed a large, green trout and whipped his arm around where he assumed Raian was running toward.

A wet, audible smack resonated through the forest as the fish met the pale cheek of Kure Raian at fifty miles an hour.

The forest went silent.

"You bastard did you just..." Raian stared in disbelief, almost not believing what had happened. The trout hung broken in half in Ohma's hand.

He had turned back around to face the river without a word as if he hadn't just bitch slapped the devil of the Kure clan with a fish.

Raian clenched and unclenched his fist, unsure of what to do. His brain had shortcircuited the moment the stupid thing had come in contact with his face. No one had ever been so bold and lived.

"Are you gonna keep standing there or what?" Ohma said without turning his head.

That seemed to release the trigger on whatever spell Raian had been trapped under and he lunged blindly at the broad back of the man sitting at the edge of the river.

Unfortunately for Raian, Ohma seemed to predict that move. He bent forward and Raian went flying over his head in a nosedive straight into the river. He spluttered in shock for a second before roaring in rage, a vein pulsating dangerously in his forehead.

In the second that Raian had been submerged, Ohma had disappeared to god knows where. He was one fast bastard.

Raian spent the next few hours prowling all up and down the riverbed, yelling insults at the top of his lungs until dusk began to fall.

Defeated, he eventually stormed back to the Kure Manor to go soothe his wounded pride. (Destroy something)

The rest of the Kure family sensing his silent seething rage as he entered scattered like bugs as Raian blew through the halls with the force of a category-five hurricane.

Unbeknownst to him, Ohma had long moved to one of the many rivers on the complete other side of the Kure territory to fish in peace where the echoes of his rage couldn't reach him.

                                                    ***

"What happened to your face?" Fusui stood on her tiptoes to get a closer look at the pink torpedo-shaped mark on his cheek.

"Nothing." Raian glared at the sushi that was set in front of him, made from the trout that Ohma had caught earlier that day. "I'll kill that fucking asshole."

Ohma was predictably absent that night. 

I was watching The Crucifixion (2017) and this dude (Father Anton) really reminded me of Brahms. 😭😭😭