I Was Watching The Crucifixion (2017) And This Dude (Father Anton) Really Reminded Me Of Brahms.

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

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 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.”

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.

A Serendipitous Future

A request made by Shannon in which the reader and Black have children in an alternate universe. Additionally, the reader is Vegeta's sister and Black has reversed his ways. It is a one-shot.

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In all of your dreams you had never believed this would be possible. You had long since given up on ever hoping that you would live to see the sky turn blue again, nor the humans thriving after the destruction of Goku Black. And even more, you could never have foreseen that you would have been the cause of it. But all those facts dwarfed in comparison to your established relationship with the infamous killer turned hero. He had become your husband.

You, who had convinced him that humans were worth something, that mortals deserved to live. No one knew of the true heroine of the universe, and you were alright with that. It was enough to finally forget the days of the past, those days you had suffered in terror and agony, watching your world go up in flames. And yet, there were days you didn’t want to forget, not now, not ever. Memories that you would lock away in your heart forever, memories of him. How you managed to convince the cold-blooded serial killer of days long gone you weren’t exactly sure, and neither was Black. But for some reason, the fateful day he met you, levitating above you as you pleaded with tears streaming down your cheeks, yet refusing to back down; he was unable to kill you. Black had never spared anyone before, and as much as Zamasu goaded him to do it, he just couldn’t. And gradually, after several encounters, he inevitably drew closer, captivated by the one person who didn’t think he was a monster.

It was ironic, how a God like him fell in love with a mortal like you, the people he swore to eradicate, and he had almost done it. The Zero Mortal Plan had been so close, the only barriers were a few other Saiyans that Black could have easily crushed. He had never even thought of the possibility that a mortal would ever be able to stop him, let alone change him. It frightened him at first, but after so much turmoil he stopped fighting it and succumbed to his feelings, much to his partner’s rage.

And when Zamasu had charged at you with murder in his pale, silver eyes, it was Black who had protected you. Not Trunks, not the other Saiyans, but Black. And that was the final catalyst for your love, which exploded into something no one had ever expected.

Obviously, not everyone accepted it at first, many at first spewing filthy slurs at you, but Trunks, your best friend and cousin, though confused and hurt, had shaken his head in defeat and hesitantly supported you. Vegeta, your hot-headed brother, was nothing short of murderous and disgusted when he found out, but came around to it in due time, though neither Black nor the Prince was anything short of frigid towards each other. And surprisingly, so many others who were too tired to hate and blame anymore chose to stand by your side. It was no easy task to convince the Gods of the other universes to pardon his crimes and give him a second chance, but on the account of your own innocence and purity, not to mention the own deeds you had contributed that would rival a God’s (Enough so to earn you the title of “Warrior Princess”), they had sullenly agreed. It took time at first for Goku Black to be acclimatized to humans, but you were patient with him, and slowly became his everything.

Son Goku and his friends, with the help of many Gods who were sympathetic or simply vengeful for their cause, restored Trunks’ timeline along with the help of the dragon balls.

Trees sprouted from the ground and the barren soil became rich once more, the scourge of the universe that lingered and festered like some disease abolished. Cities were rebuilt and soon the universe began to be restored. And though Black tried to save his partner, Zamasu, in the end, was dissolved by Lord Zeno. Though only the Z-fighter knew you as the true cause of this abrupt turn of events, you were more than delighted by Black’s sudden change of heart. Perhaps it was partly because of the body of the kind-hearted Saiyan that no longer existed, but there was no doubt that you had your influence too.

It had been a few years since then, the day you finally saw the light in his heart, or more specifically, when he had openly revealed it to you, and you could never forget his words. “If it is your wish, then I will try, all for you, my love.”

And he had kept true to his promise, at the very minimum refraining from slaughtering the innocent, though you could see how difficult it was for him. And you loved him all the more for it.

After you all had settled the issue, you were both living in the mountains in an embellished wooden cabin that Black had built with his own two hands, with the occasional visit from Mai and Trunks, who were still a bit uncomfortable around your husband but tolerant enough. You really couldn’t ask more of them, and their visits were appreciated. But despite their frostiness towards the black-haired God, they had been overjoyed when you gave birth to a baby boy nearly five years prior, who bore an uncanny resemblance to their powerful father. To most, Black was still unreadable and distant, but even you could perceive the subtle joy in his dark eyes when he held his newborn son at your bedside. Two years later, you were blessed with another child, this time a girl, who bore more of a resemblance to you. And again, Black was overjoyed, constantly keeping his children within his sight and spending as much time with you as possible. Luckily for you, as one of the mightiest beings in the universe he could easily provide for your entire family with barely any effort, meaning that you were never apart for long. When you ventured into the city, Black would always follow in disguise (If you could call it that, all he would wear was a dark grey hoodie), cradling your children protectively while he fondly watched you shop.

Currently, it was springtime, and the desolated planet that had once been earth had been completely hidden by the blooming flowers and plants, showing no trace of the bloodshed that had once scorched the earth. Of course, those who were there would never wholly forget, but there was nothing more you could have wished for. You let out a sigh of contentment as you reclined back in your chair on the patio, letting the gentle sunlight caress your cheek. Black was perched in front of you, staring down earnestly at the forest below, the sound of laughter floating its way into your ears as your son frolicked around in the trees with your daughter. Two more voices mingled with your children’s delighted screams, specifically a blue-haired Saiyan and a black-haired woman. They had come over to visit, a few minutes ago, and had agreed to facilitate your children so you and Black could get some rest. As much as you loved your energetic son and curious daughter, parenthood was exhausting even with Black at your side, especially because of their had Saiyan blood.

You had barely gotten any sleep lately and neither had your lover, though he showed no physical evidence of sleep deprivation and fatigue like you did. He looked as perfect as always.

It’s so not fair, how does he always look so damn good-

He turned around at that exact moment and your face flushed as bright as a tomato, causing him to smirk as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. Even after being married for this many years he was still hard to read. He sauntered over to you, picking you up by the waist much to your surprise before plopping down where you were laying and dropping you on top of him. Such intimacy had been nonexistent during his life as a Kai, but he had learned to appreciate it after all this time.

“What were you thinking about? Must be something not so innocent by that face of yours,” he whispered huskily in your ears, his muscular arms tightening around your waist.

“And how would you be so sure? It’s not like you’re a mind-reader.” You retorted, bumping him with your elbow.

“What if I was?” He purred with such conviction then you almost believed it for a terrifying second. But you called his bluff. You had gotten so used to it now that you barely cared.

“Then you would know what I’m thinking right now.”

“Alright,” he chuckled lightly, “enlighten me, Y/n.”

“I’m thinking….” You touched your chin and pretended to ponder it for a few seconds. “That you’re an ass.”

“Oh really.” You could nearly hear the smug smirk in his voice as his hands wandered under your shirt to stroke your bare skin.

“Y-yeah,” your voice trembled as his calloused fingers grazed over your ribs, and you had to keep yourself from moaning. “Y-you’re kind of an ass.”

You remembered those days when you could barely make out a stuttering sentence in front of him, let alone tease him and get away with it. He had murdered people for far less back then, but now, he was something else entirely different, at least to you. He still projected that introverted, rough exterior towards everyone else except you and your children, but you had just accepted that as his personality.

In a brave move, you flipped over to straddle his lap and leaned in for a kiss.

Suddenly, two high-pitched voices began to draw closer and closer on the stairs, accompanied by light footsteps and followed by two pairs of much louder ones.

“C-come on kids! Stay down here and don’t disturb your parents!” You heard Mai’s voice ring out.

“But I want to play with daddy!” You heard your son say. They were awfully close and you were stuck in a provocative position, scrambling to get off and ending up falling ungracefully on your side like a turtle while Black watched in amusement.

“Daddy!” Your son leapt a good five feet into the air, which had surprised you at first but over time you had become accustomed to it. After all, all your life you had been surrounded by surreally strong warriors, on the account of being Vegeta’s only surviving family member.

Black caught him with ease and entertained him as if nothing had been happening before, you hastily scrabbling to pick yourself up from the ground. It was times like these that you wished you were as smooth as he was. Your daughter let out shouts of glee from Trunks’ arms, tugging at his colorful locks.

Both Mai and Trunks seemed to have figured out what you two were doing before there got there, judging by the embarrassed looks on their faces. Trunks passed your daughter into your arms as you thanked them, offering them tea for their trouble but they stated that they had an appointment coming up soon. Waving them goodbye, you watched as they turned into blurry specs in the sky while rocking your babbling daughter in your arms in a desperate attempt for her to go to sleep. You had a nagging suspicion that they left to give you two some privacy for whatever they suspected you were doing before being interrupted by your hyperactive children.

To be honest, that did seem like a pleasant break to the chaos two toddlers brought. But you loved them nonetheless, and you could tell by the smile on Black's face that he only revealed to you three that he felt the same.

“You know, you could’ve been really popular with the ladies with that smile,” you laughed quietly as you closed the door to your kids’ bedroom after tucking them in; they had quickly burned out all their seemingly endless energy after playing with their father, who was the only one with the stamina to match them. Perhaps letting them eat cake for dessert in the morning wasn’t the brightest idea. 

“What ladies?” Black snorted, rolling his eyes.

He entered your shared bedroom, pulling off his shirt and changing into a pair of sweatpants, leaving the battle-hardened muscles exposed to your wandering eyes. You changed too, trailing after him onto the couch in the living room and flicking on the television. You couldn’t really concentrate however, not with Black sitting in all his glory next to you, and who could blame you for looking? He had the body of a Roman God: a sculpted eight pack, bulging biceps and everything in between. To you Black was the epitome of perfection, and you to him.

Even just sitting on the couch, with his cheek propped up against a brawny forearm was enough to get you to melt.

It should be illegal to be so casually hot, you grinned cheekily at your own thoughts.

“I know you’re thinking something weird over there,” an unexpected flick to the nose jolted you out of your daydreams. “Something perverted again I assume?”

“N-no.”

He raised an incredulous eyebrow at you and you sighed. “Maybe….”

Black let out a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat and pulled something out of his pocket, swinging it uninterestingly in his hand. Your eyes widened in horror as you realized it was your phone. When did he get that? It had been in your back pocket for God’s sake!

“I know your phone password, Y/n.” Black threatened, turning on your phone. Of course, he had never gone on it before, in fear of scarring his eyes for life but hey, it was always a good time for firsts.

“Okay fine! I admit it you jerk! I was thinking about you!” You shoved his chest with both hands and muttered under your breath, snatching back your phone. God, he loved to rile you up.

Your back suddenly hit the couch below you, and your head was caged in by a pair of strong arms. “Then how about you stop imagining and show me?” Black’s lips ghosted over the junction between your neck and shoulders, making you shiver in anticipation.

“Gladly…” You reached to touch his bare chest before-

“Mommy! I think I peed!” Your son's wail interrupted the silence, and you both stiffened. 

“Aw shit. Not it!” You threw up your hands in front of you, and Black leaned back in irritation and exhaled loudly through his nose.

“Goddamnit…..”