Goku Black X Reader: Forbidden Fruit (Chapter 19: Even Nightmares Dream)

Goku Black x Reader: Forbidden Fruit (Chapter 19: Even Nightmares Dream)

A chilling laugh reached his ears, jolting him from the peaceful silence. When he opened his eyes, the room had disappeared, leaving him floating in nothing but a swirl of deep purple and black. Swiveling his head, Black called to you, listening to his voice as it echoed through the void of emptiness. A sudden, deep laugh from the darkness reached his eardrums, making the hair stand up on the back of his neck.  

Where the Hell was he? And who was that?

With a whoosh of air before his eyes, a patch of darkness began to twist and change, taking the thin form of a familiar Kai.

“My my Black, look at how you’ve devolved,” Zamasu cackled at the look on his partner’s face.

“What do you want?” Black hissed, clenching his fist.

“Is that really how you talk to your friend?”

“You’re not my friend!”

“Of course not. I am you,” Zamasu shot towards him, stopping a mere two inches away from his face, but the Saiyan refused to back down.

“And your point is? My patience is running thin.” Black was anxious to get back to you, but he was careful not to reveal anything on his face. He knew Zamasu would pounce on any and every opportunity he saw, like a true predator.

“Have you forgotten about our plan? Are you going to throw away all of this for a mere human?” Zamasu spat the word “human” like it was something bitter, his face contorting in an instant to reveal his distaste.

“She’s immortal!”

“Is that your pitiful excuse for keeping that disgusting thing around? Or have those ungodly lustful desires of a mortal body final taken over your mind?”

That was the last straw. Black rushed towards him, plunging his fist into his midsection only to find that the murderous Kai had disappeared into streaks of black smoke, formulating a couple meters away from where he was. He appeared completely unharmed.

“You can’t touch me in your dreams,” Zamasu remarked coldly, looking completely unconcerned.

Black let out a rumbling snarl, a vein pulsing in his neck as he struggled not to lose his temper again. Losing control would be no better than outright admitting his defeat. “So then what the Hell are you doing here?”

“Oh nothing much,” Zamasu drawled, folding his arms behind his back. “Just to remind you that I’m still here, and as long as I am, I’m not going to just forget about your precious pet.”

“Y/n none of your concern. You can stay in that stupid cage and rot for all of eternity, see if I care. I can carry out the Zero Mortal Plan with or without you, it makes no difference with me.”

“Oh really?” Zamasu almost purred, making Black want to gag. “What about those apes from the future, hmm? How do you plan on erasing them without my help?”

“I think I’ll manage, thanks.” He rebutted, aura pulsating pink. Another vein popped out of his neck and he struggled desperately to tame his fury.

“Hm sure,” the white-haired God taunted, suddenly teleporting to stand in front of his partner, noses merely two inches apart. Black could almost imagine the warm breath of his former ally dusting his face, but of course, they were both just illusions. The smug grin was wiped off Zamasu’s face in an instant as his temper changed without warning.

“You can’t protect her forever, you know.” Even though Black himself had a tendency to switch from one mood to another in a split second, it was still unnerving to see it on Zamasu. Perhaps it was because of how similar it seemed to himself.

“That too is none of your concern,” Black floated backwards a few inches, eager to put some distance between them.

“COWARD!” Zamasu spat startling him, though he managed to keep his expression the same neutral stare. “You would ruin the entire plan for one goddamn human! After everything we’ve worked for, all the blood it took, you would throw it all away?!”

“She’s basically a God!”

“She’s basically a God!” Zamasu viciously threw his words back in his face and this time Black really did lose control. Letting out an enraged roar, his hair shot up immediately and flared a magnificent pink, a furious aura surrounded him like a massive halo. Like the grim reaper of justice that he was. Locking onto his target, he charged, only to find the same result as his previous attempt, delighting Zamasu and sending Black into an even worse frenzy.

Nearly blind with rage, he let out a volley of energy blasts which promptly disappeared into the hazy distance much to his displeasure. Zamasu however, disappeared a millimeter before one was due to collide with his chest, which wouldn’t have done much anyways in a world of dreams.

Black was left confused and angrier than ever as he howled insults into the void, completely losing any semblance of self-control. After being forced to lose you for so long, ditching his own partner, and forming a shaky alliance with Trunks, he was long overdue for a break and now this? If only you could see him now. Good God, he was losing it.

His heart thundered voluminously in his chest as he turned left and right searching for the fiend who had seemingly disappeared into thin air.

“I could make that repulsive little bitch pay, Black. I can tear her limb from limb and trap her in a Hell that even you wouldn’t be able to rescue her from. Oh, the possibilities are endless.” It seemed to be coming from all directions and even the powerful Saiyan couldn’t discern exactly where it was emanating from. “Or….” The voice paused thoughtfully. “I could make her my pet.”

Black gnashed his teeth so hard it was a miracle they didn’t chip, but the voice didn’t seem to be bothered at all and continued to harass him.

“But I really have no use for treacherous little leeches who would betray her own kind for some fool in a stolen body. You can’t save her, not forever. The universe always finds a way, and when it does, you’ll be left with naught.”

“Come out you coward!” Black’s voice echoed through space, receiving no call. I’ll rip that bastard to pieces!

“Oh Black,” A voice suddenly appeared next to his ear, though he felt no breath. “Look at what that human has done to you. You’re practically one of them. A blind, useless, lovestruck mortal who can’t see past his own desire. So let me enlighten you.”

Before Black could swing his arm back, something flitted to life in front of him. Something eerily familiar. The spiky hair, sharp jawline, crazed onyx eyes…..it was almost like he was looking into a mirror.

No, not exactly. It was too solid to be a mere reflection, though as he hesitantly reached out a hand to touch it, his fingers passed through the figure’s chest, much like when he had tried to hit Zamasu. Black wasn’t even sure if it was him at first. He looked so…what was the word, vulnerable?

Sweat dripped down his face and matted his hair to his forehead, clothes all disheveled and out of place, and his eyes……that was the worst. A mingle of anger and fear, for both you and himself. Part of him knew that what Zamasu was saying was true, that he had perhaps grown soft, letting down his guard enough to allow you inside his heart. When you first met, he followed you out of sheer curiosity and boredom, but over time it had grown to something much more, something he never would have thought he would be capable of feeling. And as a result, he had barely killed anybody since you wandered into his life, and definitely not as much as he used to.

Fuck, I really am losing my touch.

But no matter how much he despised you at that moment, and no matter how much he chastised himself, he couldn’t bear to give you up. To Zamasu, Trunks, to no one but him. He was the one and only God who would ever be able to touch you, and to worship you in ways you never thought possible.

His dark eyes widened in shock. That was it! A God!

“Zamasu,” He suddenly addressed his ex-partner, who merely narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “I think I have a compromise.”

Friday the 13th Oneshots: Michael x Jason

Chapter 3: You Make Me Go Crazy (SMUT)

Michael, with a smug smirk plastered on his face beneath the mask, stared back unabashedly. After casting a suspicious glance back at the other man, Jason hesitantly squatted back down to fix up the cages.

By the time they had patrolled through the entire territory of Camp Crystal Lake, the sun had begun to set, painting the sky with streaks of orange and red. Jason, ever watchful after the incident by the lake, kept Michael in his peripheral vision at all times. Michael, however, refused to give up. If anything the challenge excited him. He was, if not anything else, extremely patient. All he would have to do was to wait until Jason let his guard down, then he would strike.

It wasn't until after dinner did he finally get his chance. Jason stood with his back turned to him at the sink, obliviously washing the dishes, blind to the large figure stalking towards him.

A huge, rough hand clamped down on the counter, startling Jason so much he almost dropped the plate. The other hand came up to grope and knead at his ass, and a warm body pressed him against the furniture. In a surprising turn of events, Jason found himself leaning into his touch. A soft sigh whistled through the holes in his mask and a sudden warmth crept down his spine. Michael, who was never really gentle, began tearing at his clothes from the back, letting out an impatient snarl when the leather belt that wrapped around Jason's waist refused to unbuckle. Quickly, Jason batted Michael's hands away before he got irritated and tore it in half. He wasn't sure how many articles of clothing he'd lost to the Boogeyman, but Michael was insistent.

His belt clattered to the ground and Michael wasted no time to rip off his boxers and pants. It was freezing cold outside, but Jason felt so hot that he was surprised he didn't start smoking out his ears. He couldn't even be bothered to chide his lover about shredding another pair of underwear. The fire building in his stomach sank lower, turning into a small inferno in his groin. He was already fully erect before Michael had begun to touch him, the thick member jolting against his stomach as Michael unzipped his boiler suit out of sight.

A raspy whimper slipped through his hockey mask, and Jason could feel Michael's grip tighten on his hips. If it wasn't for Jason's abnormally high pain tolerance he was sure he would be cringing in pain. It almost seemed as if they were created for each other, a perfect match made in Hell. Something hard and wet prodded at his ass, jolting him back to reality and he flinched in surprise at the feeling.

Michael didn't give much warning before he roughly thrust in and buried himself to the hilt. Jason let out a deep groan at the painful intrusion and tried to move away, but was halted by the bruising grip on his hips. He scrabbled at the counter with both hands, the wood coming apart easily under his strong grip and he clenched his teeth so hard it was a miracle they didn't chip.

Michael growled at the feeling of Jason's warm, wet walls flexing around his cock, desperate to move but he knew he was already pushing it. If he pissed him off too much Jason would stubbornly refuse to have sex with him until he cooled off. And Michael wasn't about to go on another two-week-long drought. He waited irritably for Jason to adjust to his size, the seconds ticking by agonizingly slow.

After what felt like hours but was at most around a minute, Jason wriggled his hips back into Michael as a signal to move. He didn't wait another second, starting up a brutal pace that left Jason gripping at the crumbling counter edge.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, accompanied by the soft grunts and moans that slipped through their masks. A large, calloused hand came around Jason's side to grab his straining erection and began to steadily stroke the shaft. A thumb pressed down on his weeping slit and Michael could feel Jason clamp down around him harder than before. White spots swam across his vision at the sensation of Jason's velvety walls and he redoubled his pace. Michael could feel his dick pulsating hotly in his palm, begging for release. He angled his thrusts to find the spot that he knew Jason liked, pushing as deep as he could manage from his position. He was rewarded with a particularly loud moan from his lover, and he sped up to an impossible pace that only the Shape of Haddonfield could achieve.

Jason could feel the tight bundle in his pelvic area about to burst, and he pushed back desperately against Michael. A hard thrust into the exact spot had him howling, and he came so hard he saw white behind his eyelids. Thick ropes of cum painted his chest and stomach, and Michael barely managed to fuck him through his orgasm before following suit. Warmth filled Jason's insides and leaked out of his ass as Michael pulled out, and without Michael's support he collapsed halfway onto the counter.

They stood there panting for a while before Jason heard the distinct sound of Michael's zipper sliding up. Footsteps neared his exhausted body and pulled him out of his stupor as Michael, uncharacteristically gentle, helped him redress and disappeared into the night.

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. 

Friday the 13th Oneshots: Michael x Jason

Chapter 2: Halloween Headache

It was almost that time of the year again, Jason thought as he eyeballed the calendar on the table. He had never cared about holidays until he came along.

Right on cue, Michael trudged in from the back door, dragging mud all over his freshly mopped floors. Jason let out a huff, gesturing angrily at his partner who barely spared him a second glance. Michael was always 'moody', especially around Halloween. Jason wasn't exactly sure why the holiday had such an effect on the Haddonfield slasher, and Michael himself wasn't certain why either. But neither of them cared enough to stew over it.

His mood swings got worse around that fateful day, and Jason had to constantly watch his back to make sure the smaller man wouldn't jump him with a knife to the shoulder or rip off his clothes. Personally, he preferred the latter. But this year, he had a peace offering. Jason smiled giddily under the mask, feeling the weight of the candy hidden beneath his old, bulging jacket.

He knew Michael had a massive sweet tooth, despite his efforts to conceal it. Any desserts that Jason made or stole would immediately disappear before he even had a chance to taste it. Personally, Jason didn't care much for sweets, so it made no difference to him if Michael decided to hog it all. Unfortunately, most trespassers knew better than to carry aromatic foods into the forest, lest they wanted to attract unwanted attention from bears or worse.

Clearly, the hikers yesterday were not so smart, bringing an entire bag of candy into the woods to stuff their faces. Jason had found and dispatched them in an instant, claiming his prize and doing his best to hide it from his lover. Luckily, Michael didn't seem to suspect anything, too caught up on his yearly Halloween bloodlust to pay much attention to Jason.

Jason grinned, sneaking over to their shared bedroom where Michael was already hard at work staring out of the window. Michael didn't react to Jason's heavy footsteps, and it wasn't until he heard the unfamiliar sound of crinkling plastic did he finally turn around.

Jason pulled the bag out of his jacket, showing it off proudly to Michael. Hidden by the pale, white mask, Michael's eyes widened in shock. How long has it been? Over a decade at least since he's last tasted Halloween candy. It was the night he'd killed his sister, Judith. The food at Smith's Grove was bland and repetitive, and there was never the luxury of anything sweet or even food that tasted remotely edible.

But Jason didn't know that. If he had, he probably wouldn't have presented Michael with the whole bag at once. It seemed to trigger something in the Boogeyman; Jason had never seen him move so fast.

Michael lunged, startling a surprised grunt out of the normally mute killer, grabbing the bag and speeding out of the room. A door slammed in the distance, the distinct click of a lock loud in the empty house. Jason stood rooted at the spot, frozen in confusion for a few seconds before a thought hit him.

Was he going to eat the whole bag at once?

Even Michael wouldn't be able to stomach that much candy at once, he was going to get a massive stomachache, Jason worried.

Quickly, he found Michael in the spare room, but the door was locked. The sound of movement slipped through the cracks at the bottom, and Jason pounded a heavy fist against it. Something was thrown against the wall in a clear indication of 'go away'.

Jason exhaled loudly, knocking again, only to be ignored. Michael wouldn't budge, he was too busy tearing into the bag, damn the consequences! No way would he let Jason take it away.

After about ten minutes of fruitless knocking, Jason finally gave up, sliding against the wall as he sat down next to the door.

Eventually, Jason dozed off, leaving Michael to scarf down the candy in peace. It must have been hours later until Jason awakened. The sky was dark, blanketing the small cabin in a soothing darkness. It was quiet, too quiet. Jason perked up, ears straining for any sound behind the locked door.

A soft groan caught his attention and he immediately broke the lock on the door, resigning himself to fix it later. Jason burst through, halting as he saw the figure of his unmasked lover curled up on the sheets, candy wrappers strewn on the floor and bed. There were still a few pieces left, but the rest of it was gone. A loud gurgle echoed through the room, coming from Michael's stomach, Jason realized.

Shakily, Michael reached for a wrapped chocolate and Jason had to hold back from face-palming as he watched. He grabbed Michael's wrist, pulling him away from the candy.

Michael shot him a venomous glare, growling loudly and jerking weakly in his grasp. Jason tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at the smaller male as if saying, "Really?"

Even with a stomachache he was still trying to eat. He moved the candy away from him, sending Michael into a thrashing fit. A knee was suddenly thrust into Jason's ribs, briefly winding him enough for Michael to break free and make a wild dive for the candy.

Lunging forward, Jason grabbed his ankle and pulled him back, promptly collapsing him onto his stomach and locking his arms around his chest.

Michael let out a grunt as all of the air was expelled from his lungs, the sound muffled by the duvet pressing into his face.

He went deathly still for a moment and promptly threw up all over the bed and rug, letting out a few raspy coughs as he finally finished expelling all the colorful fluids. Jason could do nothing except gently pat his back through the violent heaving, hoping that it wouldn't stain the already deteriorating floors.

It reminded him of that year when he caught his counselors watching The Exorcist, and back then he had covered his eyes as the girl projectile vomited everywhere on screen. Except this time he had a front-row seat.

This Halloween was certainly shaping up to be an unusual one, Jason thought as he moved Michael's head away from the puddle of foul-smelling, partially digested candy on the corner of the bed. It seemed like all the fight had fled from him along with the contents of his stomach.

He tried scooping Michael up to take him to the showers but being a stubborn bastard he refused, pushing Jason away and rolling onto his side with an irritated growl.

He fell asleep almost immediately, and Jason didn't have the heart to wake him. A small smile worked its way onto his face as he watched the rhythmic rising and falling of Michael's chest, dark lashes fluttering lightly every now and then. Carefully, Jason lowered himself next to his sleeping lover, heart swelling with unbridled affection. Slowly, he too was lulled to sleep, dreaming about sharp blue eyes and dark brown hair.

Michael may be a shithead, especially around Halloween, but he was Jason's shithead, and no one would be able to take him away from him.

Muscle Heads: Ohma x Raian

Chapter 2: Off His Ass

“Raian that’s enough,” His sister, Fusui scolded angrily. “That’s like your thirteenth bottle.”

“Shut the fuck up, don’t tell me what to do!” Raian crowed loudly, smashing the bottle he had drained in seconds onto the ground and littering shards of glass everywhere. His sister let out a small ‘eep’ and danced away from the flying pieces, giving him a glare before Henzo pulled her away.

“Just leave him alone and he’ll be out like a light soon. Hopefully.” Henzo whispered. “Just don’t stir him up until then, okay?

“Fine,” Fusui groaned, eyeing distastefully at her brother who continued to cackle like a banshee.

“Alright who's next?” Raian waved another bottle in the air, but everyone else who had been willing to challenge him had collapsed in a near-alcohol induced coma on the ground. 

“Tch, pussies.” Raian sneered and stomped out the door of the Kure dining room, wandering about the garden in search of a good fight. His normally milky skin was flushed a light pink from the alcohol, and there was an uncertainty in his normally solid swagger as ambled around the massive yard.

The sharp sound of skin hitting stone reverberated through the crisp air, drawing the demon Kure’s attention away from his aimless walk and towards the more isolated part of the estate.

It was Ohma, practicing the Niko style against a pile of huge boulders. Sweat dripped off his bare chest, forming rivers that soaked into his baggy pants as he huffed in exertion. Still unaware of the other man’s presence over the noise of shattering stone, he went to grab another rock before a raspy voice made him freeze.

“What’s up, fucker?” 

A large, muscular arm dropped heavily across Ohma’s shoulders which he immediately pushed off.

“What the hell do you want Raian?” 

“Nothin’ much,” Raian sniggered and leaned closer, black scleras glinting maliciously in the dim light. “Wanna fight?”

“No, dumbass. Are you drunk?” Ohma wrinkled his nose at the overwhelming smell of wine on his breath. Great, as if a sober Raian wasn’t already a massive pain in the ass. “I’m not carrying you back to your room if you crash.”

“Try me, bitch.” 

The first punch knocked him back four feet, but Raian managed to stay upright, blinking rapidly to clear the dizziness in his head.

“Time to dominate!” Letting out a feral roar, Raian pounced. He beat down on his rival with wild animal strength, different from his normal-slightly more composed-Kure style. 

Despite the frenzied blows, Ohma had no problem dodging or blocking each one, though his arm began to throb soon enough under the intense barrage of attacks. If Raian had nothing else, he had brute strength enough to make any man tremble in fear. But Ohma was no normal man, and he had dealt with types like the hot-headed assassin before. Though they were much weaker at the very least.

“Hey, your old man might not be pleased with all the holes you’re leaving in the yard.” Ohma evaded a roundhouse kick and bounced back, gesturing at the substantial craters dotting the ground. “You’re ripping up all the grass.”

“Fuck that! Fight me Tokita, or are you too big of a pussy?!” His frustration with Ohma’s refusal for a real fight exploded into the form of hurling rocks like cannonballs.

Is this son of a bitch crazy? 

Ohma almost smacked himself at that thought as a human-sized boulder whizzed past his ear and battered right into the wall of the Kure manor. Raian was the definition of crazy, his face was probably plastered all over the dictionary page.

“RAIAN?! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING BOY?!” A shout halted Raian’s throwing spree momentarily, enough for Ohma to disarm him and put him into a headlock.

“We were just sparring old man,” Raian cackled, fingers prying at Ohma’s arm wrapped around his neck.

“No we were not.” Ohma started to peel his fingers out of his forearm. He had half a mind to break them. 

“I don’t care what you are doing, cease this racket immediately! I won’t tell you twice Raian,” Grandfather Erioh pointed at him with his cane. “And you, Ohma! Take him back to his room and watch him!”

Knowing better than to argue with the grandfather, Ohma begrudgingly led Raian back to his room tucked securely under his armpit. He was sure Raian could have broken out at any time, so why didn’t he?

Shaking his head, he knew better than to try to delve into Raian’s brain or else he would probably develop a migraine.

“Try not to destroy everything here, brat.” Ohma finally let him go after they reached his quarters, sliding the door shut before Raian could attack him again. During the five minute walk Raian had coughed and sneezed on him twice (he was starting to think he was doing it on purpose) as Ohma struggled to keep his large frame moving. He also thought it was fun to pinch his ass, hard. Snarling, Ohma slapped him in the face and opted for just dragging the drunk man by the arms, who went limp but continued to whine like a foul-mouthed child. 

Ohma had never wanted to murder someone so badly in his entire life.

After pulling the two-hundred-pound psychopath to his bed, Ohma was finally able to settle down in his own room,  keeping a keen ear out for him in case he decided to act up again. 

Hearing no sound from the other side, Ohma hesitantly let his eyes slip close for his daily image training. Ever since he began living with the Kures, more and more of them began slipping into his dream-battles. The three most common frequenters were always Reiichi, Hollis, and Raian. The latter slipped into his dreams the most, much to his displeasure. Dream Raian was just as annoying as the real Raian himself. 

And of course, today it was him who appeared once again. 

A loud crash seared through his concentration just as dream Raian opened his fat mouth, shocking Ohma onto his feet. He let out an irritated huff through his nose, clenching his teeth so hard they almost chipped as he yanked open the door. 

“Can’t you just settle down, you son of a bitch?” Ohma swore under his breath when he saw Raian sprawled out on the floor, reminiscent of a pale human-sized bear rug. He was almost tempted to just shut the door and pretend he didn’t see anything, but Raian had wedged his fingers into the floorboards and was in the process of peeling back the wood with a resounding snap.

Storming over, Ohma yanked his hand away only to be met with a slew of curses and a directionally-challenged fist that went straight through the floor.

“Do I need to tie you up, Raian?”

“Suck a cock, dumbass!”  

Raian suddenly reached out a hand to grab his ankle, pulling his body towards him and sending Ohma sliding on his ass as he knocked the back of his head against the floor. With surprising agility for someone that drunk, he hauled himself onto Ohma’s chest….and promptly threw up. 

It took a moment for the unfortunate man to process what had fully happened as Raian wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, sneering at him all the while. 

And then he snapped.

With a roar of rage Ohma slung Raian across the room with all the force he could muster and stormed out, bashing the door so hard that it flew off the hinges behind him as he walked stiffly to the restroom. He ripped off his clothes-they weren’t worth saving at that point-and angrily turned the shower knob all the way to the highest temperature. He wiped what was left of the vomit off his face and scrubbed his body with a rough sponge until it stung, silently cursing the old man Erioh and Raian the entire time.

Soon, the heat began to burn and Ohma was forced to exit before his skin turned a bright lobster red. Steam had overtaken the room, making it difficult to see as he blindly groped around for a towel. Therefore he was more than surprised when his foot landed on something hard and warm, something human.

“Fuck!” 

A yellowed rag was thrust in his face, making him flinch backward as Raian got up from the floor. He was so white that his body almost blended with the tiles in the steam.

Had he been there the entire time?

“Here.” Raian’s voice was raspier than usual as he dangled the cloth in front of Ohma’s face.

“What the hell is this?”

“Towel.”

“It’s filthy Raian,” Ohma scrunched his nose and pushed his arm away.

“Didn’t say it was clean.”

Sighing, he moved past him and grabbed a fresh one, eyes catching on the bright red droplets leading in a trail from the entrance. The tiny dots led to a small pool where Raian had been sitting, seeping slowly from a few cuts on his back when he had collided with the wall.

“Go take a shower, punk.”

“Ha! In your drea-” Ohma forced his head down, cutting off the rest of his sentence before walking him to the shower and shutting him in. He got dressed in record time and leaned his back against the door just as Raian attempted to crawl back out, abruptly ending his escape. There was a low curse as his face was once again introduced to the door.

“I’m not letting you out until you’re clean. You smell like shit-”

“Says who, you pig!”

“-and you’re getting blood everywhere.” He waited for a few seconds while the sounds of Raian’s heavy breathing was the only sound coming from the stall, and still no signs of any running water. A minute passed and there was still no movement from within.

“Do I have to do everything myself?!” Ohma snarled, opening the door and turning the water on cold. “Are you fucking five?!”

A hand twisted itself into his collar and wrenched him in, putting him in the direct line of the freezing water. His back arched instinctively to avoid it, unintentionally pressing himself into the body below.

Shivering uncontrollably, he fought to get Raian’s hands off him while simultaneously spinning the dial to warm, grinding his teeth to fight off the urge to strangle this man in the shower. 

When he moved to get off, the hands in his collar wouldn’t budge. “Let go Raian. Don’t make me tell you twice.”

“Why don’t you make me?” Raian mocked, still fully clothed. The white shirt he had been wearing, now stained pink with blood, turned transparent under the downpour, clinging tightly to his well-defined muscles. The blue jeans had turned dark and wet, emphasizing brawny calves and rock-hard thighs, leading up to a prominent bulge in his pants that Ohma was quite familiar with, courtesy of Kiryu Setsuna. But this however, felt different. (Excluding size differences)

Ohma tried not to stare, confusion evident in his expression. Why couldn’t he tear his eyes away? His brain told him to look away, but a more primal part of his body screamed otherwise. 

He couldn’t understand what that warm feeling was welling up inside his stomach, though it wasn’t particularly unpleasant, just...unfamiliar. 

It was puzzling when normally the only thing he had felt towards the devil of man was anger and exasperation, and the heat that usually came with those emotions were something of a different breed from what he was feeling right now.

“Remember Ohma, sometimes you just gotta throw your thoughts out the window and go for it, you know? Trust your gut, kid, and don’t think too hard or you’ll hurt yourself.”  Niko’s words bounced about in his head, echoing and gnawing away at any restraint he had left.

Fuck sensibility, Ohma growled, and Raian seemed to catch on. His gut had never led him wrong before, so there was no reason to deny it now. 

Surging forward Ohma latched his teeth onto his milky neck, instantly feeling a bright blossom of pain as Raian returned the bite with the same fervor. 

He was gonna need to take another shower.

***

“Were you guys fighting again last night?” Karla blinked at the multi-colored bruises peeking out from beneath Ohma’s collar during breakfast the next morning. Hollis spat out his food from the other side of the table and went into a coughing fit as Reiichi snickered behind his hand, half-heartedly slapping his cousin’s back in an attempt to dislodge the food. The rest of the Kures seemed to catch on too, most suddenly much more invested in their food or whispering into each other’s ears with mild giggling.

“...You could say that-” Ohma began only to have Raian obnoxiously butt in with a wide smirk on his face.

“That wasn’t what you said when you were on your knees last night!” 

There was a chorus of groans and wolf whistles as Ohma smacked Raian’s face into his mashed potatoes with a solid splat.

They were banished to sleep in the yard that night.

Goku Black x Reader: Forbidden Fruit (Chapter 17: Red Lights)

It was the smell of smoke that woke you up first. Then the frantic chittering and trampling of undergrowth as various animals rushed passed your tree, squirrels, deer, and even wolves. They all ran towards the same direction, away from North, where you were originally headed. You were so confused by the sight that you failed to notice the red claws drawing nearer and nearer, rapidly consuming everything in its path.

It was only until you realized that they were running from something that you finally turned your head, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Then it hit you. There had been no rain during your slumber, there was only the sound of thunder and the crackling of lighting. Of course. It hadn’t been a rainstorm. It had been an electrical storm. And you were in a forest, surrounded by tall trees. Shit.

Everything was on fire.

The flames licked at the treetops, quickly approaching your hideout.

Oh fuck! You leaped out of the branches, hitting the ground hard and sprinting away immediately, not wasting a single second. There was no time to contact Black, and even if you could, there was no way you would be able to concentrate on escaping the fire and talking to him at the same time. As if it couldn’t get any worse, a bolt of electricity split the tree not too far from you, and it burst aflame. You could feel some of the aftershock coursing through your body, but it passed eventually.

Focusing blurrily on the shapes running past you, you followed in their footsteps, hoping one of those massive canines wouldn’t become hungry.

A large force suddenly shoved you off your feet, causing you to crack your forehead against a boulder jutting from the green grass. Well, it wouldn’t be green for much longer. The air seemed to dim around you, and everything began to swirl and blend together. The smoke invaded your nose and crept through your lungs, where it nestled like a dark gray cat, mauling and biting at your insides.

Ignoring the pounding in your head and your fading vision, you grasped onto the trunk of a tree and tried to force yourself into a standing position, a hand clasped firmly over your gasping mouth.

Well, you had never been burned to death before, but you weren’t exactly eager to experience it firsthand. It seemed as if all the forces of nature were after you, first drowning, now burning. What was next, a goddamn tornado?!

When will I ever catch a break?! You thought irritably as a mouse jumped over your shoes.

Even after about two days of rest, your body was still recovering from your escape from the underground prison on the beach, and the lightning strike definitely didn’t help.

Oh Black, where are you?

That’s when you caught the sound of splintering trees followed by a deep bellow. You turned your head to be met with a massive elk, barreling through the fiery vegetation towards you, giving you a crazy idea. Stepping to the side to avoid being trampled, you waited until the colossal creature had galloped next to you before jumping and looping your arms around its neck, and holding on until it ran past another tree and pushing yourself off the trunk and onto the elk’s back.

It let out a snort but didn’t seem to be particularly interested in bucking you off, too busy trying to outrun death. Hopefully, it wouldn’t end up electrocuted, but it was the only plan you could come up with on the spot.

“Black!” You hollered as you bounced on the elk, trying to keep your head from spinning and throwing you off. “Black!”

It leaped clumsily over a fallen log and you were nearly sent flying, clutching onto its rough, thick fur for dear life.

Can’t I have one fucking day of peace?! You lamented silently. Life was constantly throwing curveballs at you as of late, more than the past decade combined; first, you had been trapped in that godforsaken torture cave, then the entire forest decided to set itself on fire, and then you got electrocuted and your getaway rested on a weakening elk that was beginning to stumble and huff.

If you had been able to fully recover all your energy, you would have been able to signal to Black with your chi, but you were still too weak.

Every time you turned your head, the fire crept closer and closer, until you were barely outrunning it by more than a couple meters. No matter how much you tried to spur on your ride, it had inhaled to much smoke just like you and it was wobbling badly on its spindly legs. The poor thing looked like it was about to pass out any minute, and then you’d both be goners. Trees began to fall as the fire consumed them, and the smoke was so thick you could barely see. Most of the animals seemed to have evacuated, though every now and then you would see a small critter or so lying dead, caught by the gaping maws of death.

A weak squeal suddenly caught your attention, coming from a bit farther up ahead and to your right. As you approached, you realized that it was a brown boar, a juvenile by the looks of it. Its hooves scratched at the dirt as it tried to free its foot from a hole underneath a twisted root, the noises getting softer and softer by the second, before it mournfully put its head down to accept its demise.

You looked down at the wheezing elk, white foam crusting its lips and water glazing its wide, frightened eyes. Your brows furrowed before giving its neck a quick pat, steeling yourself to jump off. It would be able to flee faster without your weight, and there was no point in you both dying. And perhaps you would be able to save the boar. You, out of everyone understood the fear of death, and there wasn’t any end much worse than burning to a crisp, alone and terrified.

Well, it’s always a good time to try something new, you managed to scoff dryly at your own joke. It’s not like I can die anyways.

Sprinting to the trapped animal, you began to furiously dig around its hoof, and it began its struggles began anew as the boar came to realize that it still had a chance at surviving. You ripped at the hard roots that curled around its leg, gritting your teeth against the pain as your flesh tore at the force. If you had been at full health you could have snapped them like ropes, but alas, there was no use wishing for something that wasn’t there. Next time you saw Zamasu, you’d shove his balls down his throat and then watch him choke on it.

“Just a little more,” You puffed, sweat dripping down your face. Your lungs were in agony, and your eyes felt just as bad. Everything hurt like Hell, but there was nothing you could do about it.

The first fingers of the flames began to lap at your sleeve, causing the boar to get even more hysterical and continue to fling dirt back at an accelerated pace.

Finally, you were able to wriggle its foot free and it sped off, leaving you covered in ashes and grime. Crawling away from the approaching flames, you didn’t even get a chance to catch your breath before pulling yourself to your feet and staggering away from a horrible roasting. Mind reeling, you could barely see over the torrent of tears the fire forced out of your eyes.

You were so focused on limping away that you didn’t notice the loud groan of a blackened tree, falling towards you. By the time you were able to realize something was wrong, it was too late.

It fell with a thud onto your back, completely crushing your legs and back under its weight. You didn’t even have the energy to scream anymore, the heat and smog had made you nearly delirious. The dead tree had paralyzed everything below your lower back, so at least there was no pain.

It almost felt nice not to feel anything anymore, though through your closing eyes everything was being swallowed by the fire and being painted red or black. How you had come to hate the color red.

Black…..You managed to whisper weakly inside your rapidly failing consciousness. Black….please help….me….Look for…..red lights….

The last thing you saw was the cloudless open night sky as the trees fell around you and two dark shapes began closing in on you, one with familiar black tufts and the other with light blue hair, unable to hear their voices as they cried for you.