âI wonder who the next victim will be, Yagami-sensei?â
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@liloiwa
âI wonder who the next victim will be, Yagami-sensei?â
TW: BLOOD Redrawn from my older art Finally managed to do the whole idea as it should have been done!
taabohâ:
Kuroiwaâs words shock him more than any physical punch could.
Takayukiâs grip tightens (the noises Kuroiwa makes are so god damnâ), and with a pull of his fist he pushes the other man back down to knock his head into the ground.
Decades ago, long before any of this, before Kuroiwa had even become the Mole, Takayuki had looked down at him just like this. Fresh from a good steal, Mitsuru had stuffed the wallet in his pocketâ good enough for them to have a real dinner for one thing, but even better that they could give money to one of the other homeless folk that visited the soup kitchen with them in the mornings. Mitsuru had tripped then, and Takayuki had tripped over him, and theyâd laughed and Takayuki had crawled over and looked down at himâŠ
And the man that grins up at him through bloody teeth and foggy eyes is nothing like the boy that Mitsuru was, quiet for the most part and so terribly awkward, but at least he hadnât been so cold. Now the only thing warm about Mitsuru left is his blood. Now Takayuki ducks his head and scrapes his teeth against the corner of Mitsuruâs mouth, painting the edges of them with red.
âIs this what you want?â he asks, his opposite forearm rising to push down on Kuroiwaâs collarbone. Just a little higher and heâll choke his throat. (Just a little higher and maybe heâll throb in his jeans, what the fuck is wrong with him.)
âYou want to take it from me?â
No matter how much Kuroiwa wanted to push Yagami down and bite a chunk from him, he couldnât bring himself to get from under the detective. The bite to the corner of his mouth had left him with another cackle of insanity and the press to his collarbone had heat spreading across his entire body. He mustâve really lost his mind if he was willing to sit here and let Taabou murder him.Â
Mitsuru slowly brought his hand from his side and reached for the otherâs throat, gripping it enough to leave a mark. He could choke him right here and watch the life drain from Takayukiâs eyes but, as tempting the thought was, he thought it extremely boring.
He would much rather keep his entertainment for as long as possible.
Bringing the man closer, Kuroiwa aimed for the jaw and bit down, drawing some blood. (Was it his own? Or did he actually draw blood from Yagami? Either way he didnât care.) His eyes closed for a second as he licked and sucked at the bite he had left on Yagami, letting out yet another loud moan against his skin.Â
He found himself obsessed with the taste of sweat and blood on Taabouâs skin. Parting from the detectiveâs jaw, he laughed, âIâll suck it out of you.â
Everything was on fire, a mix of pain and an unfamiliar feeling had him lightheaded. Whatever it was, he felt welcomed by it. âI have the power to do it.â he rasped out, âFight against it all you want, I will succeed.â
taabohâ:
I want to kill you, he thinks, not for the first time. But heâs not sure he means it, not when the twist of his stomach makes him feel more excited than he should. Kuroiwaâs teeth had been unkind, his voice low and rumbling, his breath hot against his skinâ it awakens something in Takayuki he canât say heâs proud of. It makes him want to punch Kuroiwa in the head and pin him to the dirty floor by the throat.
âWeâre already fucking fighting.â
So his head jerks forward and slams into the bridge of Kuroiwaâs nose to get it bleeding. All at once the weight on him is gone, and Takayuki wastes no time in getting back up to take Kuroiwaâs place. A palm presses flat to the manâs forehead to press his skull down, his knees settle on either side of Kuroiwaâs torso, and as he looks down at him and all the blood dribbling from his nose to his mouth, he wonders why in the hell he thinks he looks pretty.
âFeel good?â he asks, fingers carding through Kuroiwaâs hair until he can take a fistful of it and grab.
âYou want my energy, huh?â
A deranged laugh echoed as Kuroiwa fell back upon the ground, smiling at the sharp pain on his nose. No matter what Yagami did, it always seemed to bring him pure joy. Every punch, kick, and grab had Kuroiwa reeling. The adrenaline was becoming too much for his body, yet he couldnât get enough of it. The headbutt had placed a permanent grin on Mitsuruâs face.
He could taste the blood dripping from his nose and onto his teeth, fighting the urge to lick them clean. The mole couldnât even be shocked at the response, he knew what Taabou was like. (Not that it mattered anymore.)
âFighting... I would hardly call this fighting, Yagami-â
He was quickly cut off with harsh pull to his hair and a filthy moan that made its way out of Kuroiwaâs lips. Even after the damage had been done, he laughed with the each groan that made itself known. Yagami was good with his hands.
âItâs mine already.â
taabohâ:
Takayuki affords his glass a look, making a face after. âEighth drink.â And then he holds his index finger up in the air as he sends Masuda a look on the other side of the barâ a clear sign that he wants another drink, and considering he has his own private bottle, it comes to him easy.
âDonât worry,â he says, elbow on the bar as he squishes his cheek against his palm and watches Kuroiwa once more, âIâm not so wasted that I donât⊠that what youâre sayinâ doesnât make sense.
âItâs just enough I donât feel much.â His laugh turns into a snort. âLiving in Kamurocho, sometimes you just gottaâŠâ
He waves a hand. âBut you probably get it, right? You look like you have Kamurocho in your blood, too.â
His brows furrowed as he watched Yagami order another drink in silence. He didnât know why it was such a shock to him. No, he knew why, rarely has he seen the detective drink so much. Well, unless his partner in crime had them go out for drinks, but that hasnât been so often.
A slow hum came from his throat, carefully turning in his seat. âRight...â He said slowly, âI wouldnât say I get it, I donât let much get to me.âÂ
(That was a lie. Every little thing got to him.)
Mitsuru let out a bored sigh and leaned closer to Yagami, glaring into his eyes. âBut Iâm sure you let everything get to you, huh Yagami?â He paused, glancing at the fresh drink being placed in front of Takayuki. âOr else you wouldnât be sitting here- alone- drinking until youâre numb.â
"how sweet... come at me then"
listening to saccharine makes me feral...Â
SACCHARINE.
what color does your love feel like?
i dont have any icons for kuroiwa :(
dark stormy blue
Sinking ships, raging seas and tumultuous hearts, love isn't easy for you. It's a struggle, a constant inner fight of should I? Can I? Do I? Feelings are hard and they rumble inside you in a dissatisfied mess that begs to be let out. Your heart screams and cries inside you and you... You can't, you won't. You're scared. And love is scary, it's hard and sometimes it just doesn't work out. People leave, people hurt, people change their minds. And you and your cold stormy heart yearn for the calmness, for the distance, to be allowed and able to simply not feel. And yet, you do. It rages, it fights and storms inside you and you try to keep it down, keep it quiet, to feel pretending not to. It's the burn of childhood friends growing apart, of parents that aren't quite there, of relationships that burn out. So you snuff it down with water, cold and calming and blue, blue, blue. But being loved by you is blue too, just not in that way. It's the soothing, embracing feeling of floating, the moment when you sink down bellow the waves and become one with the water, with everything. It's the balance, the dramatic yet calming sound of waves that crash against a rocky shore. You're the good and the bad, the violence of the storm and the watery peace right after. You're the blue, blue feeling and loving you is watery tears, yelled confessions that no one will hear and burying your feelings in a deep watery grave never to be found out about. Your love is dark stormy blue, it's vast and deep and all encompassing, it's safety in the surface of danger, it's trusting the unruly abyss and yet I'd gladly risk drowning just to feel what it's like being loved by you.
tagged: @taaboh
tagging: .. anyone
taabohâ:
@liloiwa sent: 27) Â for sender to lick along one of receiverâs collarbones. Â *insert spongebob licking taabou meme* âș from here.
What the fuck is happening to him? To them?
Takayuki wants to blame the way his forehead lands on Kuroiwaâs on the exhaustion of trying to fight him, but even with the way he pants and the way his chest keeps rising and falling, a near hour of exertion wouldnât normally get him this tired.
But the way Kuroiwa fights him, for Godâs sakeâ the manâs a rabid fucking animal, always getting back up when heâs knocked down. In a way, it rivals Takayukiâs own battle senses, and part of him wonders if they could just fight forever.
He means to headbutt him. He does. But when Kuroiwa musters some strength to roll them over, Takayuki doesnât fight back and glares up at him instead. The manâs dripping with sweat, some of it landing on his cheek, and Takayukiâs surprised theyâre the same in that aspect, too.
How much of us is the same? The question echoes in his head as he waits for a punch to the face or the gut or something. Instead, all he gets is Kuroiwaâs own panting to match his own, andâŠ
Takayuki stiffens as lips find his clavicle and Kuroiwa tastes his sweat.
âOiââ The shivers that crawl down his spine arenât entirely unpleasant. âWhat the hell are you doing?â
The adrenaline that rushed through Kuroiwa's veins was almost eye rolling. He couldn't help but wonder if there was more to this feeling of excitement. Well, at least he knew Yagami was a worthy opponent for him and that alone had his blood pumping.
His senses are blocked and his energy is high, his gaze held nothing but the animalistic urge to devour Taabou. Mitsuru almost wants to suck the energy dry from the detective underneath him, as if it would give him enough power to take over anything.
He sees him and that drives him crazy.
Yet, Kuroiwa just stares and stares, examining every pore and every line in Takayuki's face. His scowl almost had the cop laugh. (Always so tough, Yagami.) Suppressing a scoff, Mitsuru watched as his sweat mixed with his and no matter how much he licks it up, there is a crave for more.
"Don't tell me you hate it, Yagami." Kuroiwa says, leaning closer to the mans ear, his lips brushing against the shell of it. "Your energy is mine."
He grinned before he bit down on Yagami's earlobe. He didn't care if it hurt and he didn't care if Taabou pushed him off, if he did it would be quite the fight.
Thinking about it almost excited Kuroiwa in ways he couldn't even explain. Dragging his teeth as he detached himself from Takayuki's ear, he let out a low laugh.
"You want to fight me, don't you."
call me a freak but i think romanticised cannibalism is so fucking cool. art peaked when we started using eating each other as a metaphor for love. anyway donât kill people
itâs about obsession, itâs about possession, itâs about codependency. if food is a metaphor for love because we want us both to eat well then cannibalism is itâs reverse. i want us both to live no matter the cost. i want you to be well and cared for even if it kills me. i want to have you so badly that iâd kill you to mingle your blood with mine. being covered in blood is sexy as hell.
@taabohââ
âTo hell with them. Nothing hurts if you donât let itâ
â Ernest Hemmingway
taabohâ:
âYeah,â Takayuki says plainly, on his God-knows-how-many-nth glass of whiskey tonight and waving a hand in Kuroiwaâs general direction.
âI donâtâ fucking know what it is, but thereâs something about you I justâŠâ
Slurring and a little silly, Takayuki sighs as he puts his elbow on the bar and places his cheek in his hand. ââŠnobody can be that perfect.â
Maybe on a good day, heâd question why the man was at his favourite bar. Maybe if he hadnât just downed a whole crapton of drinks after meeting Shinpei Okubo for the first time in three years, heâd be sharper.
But as it is, all Takayuki does is stare openly where Kuroiwa sits a single stool away from him.
âWhyâd you start workinâ for the police?â
Kuroiwa wasnât usually stunned into silence but, this time, he had no words. He has dealt with drunkards before yet none of them has ever said he was... perfect.Â
Mitsuruâs gaze slowly dropped to the glass of whiskey that was placed in front of Yagami, sighing. Usually he would have tried to beat the other detective to a bloody pulp, but he couldnât seem to bring himself to this time.
 âIt seemed like the only thing I was good at.â He said, still glancing between Yagami and the glass of whiskey. âHow much did you drink?â
He knew the answer was âI donât knowâ just by staring at the mans disheveled state. Unfortunately, he wouldnât be getting any straight answers from Takayuki. His trip to Tender was a complete fail, unless he took advantage of the drunk.Â
Yagami was too smart for that, Kuroiwa would know. He has been keeping tabs on him.