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It’s another cold evening as Fuuta makes his way down the street, navigating his way around the streetlights like they were landmines on the sidewalk. He pulls his jacket closer to him, both in an attempt to warm himself and to keep the spray cans pressing against his sides as still as possible. It was fairly late for anyone to be outside, much less walk in his direction, but no matter how long he had known that fact, paranoia would always win out.
He finds his target after a bit more walking: a blank, fresh wall that was just asking to be painted. Fuuta had scoped it out with friends earlier that day; however, they had pushed him to graffiti all on his own for once- to really prove he wasn’t a coward, or something.
Even if he was a bit anxious at the thought, Fuuta took the challenge.
He kneels down in front of the wall- not before looking around him first- and carefully drops the cans onto the floor, cringing at how loud the combination of metal against pavement rang out through the empty street. Fuuta observes his surroundings once more as he pops open one of the cans. It’s just him on this street.
Satisfied, he pulls his mask up over his nose and gets to work.
Fuuta is unsure of just how long he had been working when he suddenly hears footsteps approaching him.
“Good evening,” the voice greets, a little too polite for Fuuta’s liking. “Just what are you doing here?”
Fuck. Without turning his head, Fuuta looks to the side to see who’s confronting him and immediately feels his stomach drop. Cop uniform.
The cop- who seems too affable, why is he smiling like that- shows his badge to Fuuta. Mukuhara Kazui, MPD. “Would you mind coming with me for a quick chat?”
He’s completely frozen. Fuuta has never had this happen before, there’s always been lookouts for cops, but now there’s one standing right in front of him, acting too nice, definitely going to arrest him the second he drops his guard-
Fuuta chucks the red paint down and runs .
Kazui is yelling behind him, probably telling him to stop or that he’s under arrest, but Fuuta isn’t inclined to stop and listen. He makes the first right turn he sees, then left, any possible move that could throw off a police officer, but there’s footsteps behind him somehow and he forces himself to pick up the pace, pulling his mask down to give himself more oxygen.
“You’re making this harder on yourself!” Fuuta hears Kazui too loudly which means he’s too close, so he rushes down the street and into the first sidestreet he sees-
Only for all hope to be lost when a brick wall stares him down.
Before Fuuta can make the decision to turn around and try to run past the officer, Kazui turns the corner and suddenly Fuuta finds his face against the gritty brick wall.
“Let me fucking go !” He immediately tries to shove himself away from the wall, but Kazui presses against him, fully sandwiching Fuuta between his chest and the wall.
“Do you really want to add resisting arrest to your charges? You aren’t doing yourself any favors by acting like this.”
Fuuta ignores him. He shuffles against the cop a little more, a little harder, knowing that if he gives the guy enough trouble he’ll give up and just fuck off . Unfortunately, Kazui seems to be more stubborn than a typical cop by the way his grip on Fuuta’s collar tightens to a dangerous degree.
“Seriously… I’ll just have to discipline you right here at this rate.”
“Shut the hell up, old man!” Fuuta snaps, trying to pull his arms free for leverage. “Let me go!” What the hell was a cop going to do? Beat him up? Spit in his face? Fuuta was confident that no good cop- or no lazy one, for that matter- would go through all that effort just to arrest a guy who was spraying graffiti on a wall.
Kazui doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Fuuta thinks he’s finally broke him down-
“Hands against the wall.”
What?
Fuuta opens his mouth to snarl: “Fuck you-”
“Hands. Against. The wall.”
The shift in Kazui’s tone fills Fuuta’s stomach with dread. This guy was serious. Against his will, Fuuta feels his body begin to tremble as Kazui presses against him harder, bending down so he could feel Kazui’s hot breath against his ear. “Hey, do I have to tell you again?” he whispers so lowly, borderline undetectable malice lacing his words, and Fuuta barely suppresses a shudder. “Hands. Now .”
He feels weight shifting off of him, but not completely, and Fuuta realizes he has nowhere to run. The pressure on the back of his neck is starting to choke him. He drops his head to hide any fear in his eyes and slowly picks his hands up until they’re splayed against the wall, pressing his palms against the brick as hard as he can to ground himself. He’ll be fine. He’s complied now, the cop is probably only going to search him, right?
It doesn’t take long for Fuuta to feel entirely uncomfortable with how this particular cop is patting him down. Even for someone who is unfamiliar with the inspection procedure like him, surely it should be somewhat illegal for a cop to have their hands roaming underneath someone else’s clothes like this, right?
As large, cold hands run through the bare skin of his upper chest, Fuuta can’t help but shiver before turning his head at the cop, eyebrows furrowed.
“ Hey, do you really have to search me like this? It's not like I was out there doing drugs..."
Despite his best attempt to conceal the apprehension, Fuuta knows Kazui can very well make out the slight shake in his voice.
“It’s our required procedure.” Kazui replies in a strangely monotonous tone that Fuuta has never heard throughout their encounter. “Once again, please don’t make this harder than it has to be. It’ll be over soon as long as you’re cooperative.”
And thus, with lips bitten down, Fuuta does as he was told. It’s alright, he tells himself as he takes slow, deep breaths. It’ll be over before I know it… And after whatever I have to deal with in the station, I’ll just go home, take a long nap and forget about this whole nightmare. Yet it’s hard to ignore how Kazui is groping his chest a bit too much, squeezing the flesh a bit too hard; or the way the man’s fingers brushes his nipples, a gesture that feels somewhat less than accidental. It’s humiliating - dehumanizing, even - that he had to end up in a situation like this: hands against the wall of a dark, empty alleyway, being pinned down by a cop while said cop is also borderline molesting him.
What’s worse, not only can Fuuta hear his heart pounding hard and fast against his chest, he also feels heat pooling in his groin area, causing a gradual erection that painfully presses against his leggings. Maybe he’s touch-starved, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s had little private time in the past couple of weeks, but no matter the reason Fuuta can only hope for the older man to overlook his current predicament, praying that his baggy shorts and the ill-lighted surrounding are sufficient to hide his embarrassment.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Fuuta is determined to ignore the coiling tension in his lower stomach and suppress the strange noises that might slip past his tongue as he feels Kazui’s hands travel from his chest, down, to his abdomen, to his hips, and then—
Right through the waistbands of his shorts and leggings.
Fuuta’s arm jolts backwards, effectively elbowing Kazui in the stomach in a panicked, knee-jerk reaction. Procedure be damned, what sort of pervert cop stuck their hands down someone’s pants?
“Goodness,” the officer chides, sending chills down Fuuta’s back. “Still resisting, are we?”
Whatever retort Fuuta would have had dies in his throat as he hears something metal clink against itself.
“Wh- wait, hold on…” Fuuta immediately picks his head up and awkwardly tries to look behind him, his blood running cold from the singular noise. There’s few things Kazui could be intending to do by cuffing him like this and Fuuta realizes he is fucking terrified at the prospect. “Hey-”
Kazui pulls his arms back roughly, holding his wrists together and encircling them with the handcuffs. “I already gave you your warning,” he mutters into Fuuta’s ear again, “And you decided not to listen. So I’ll have to punish you.”
Everything in Fuuta’s body is screaming for him to get away, find some way to escape, but he’s trapped between the wall and the larger man’s body with no hands for leverage. “Wait, no-” his voice is starting to tremble and he sounds pathetic but he doesn’t want to be here- “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“Too late.”
Before he can react, Fuuta finds his shorts being pulled down by the older man, bundling neatly around his ankles. His leggings are next, swiftly ripped around the crotch area and exposing his most embarrassing parts in all of their glory, causing him to shiver as the night air hits his bare skin.
Still, the chill is nothing compared to the humiliation that sets every fiber of his body on fire, especially when he knows Kazui’s been leering at his leaking, half-erect cock as he lets out a low, mocking chuckle: “Even for someone your size, you sure have quite a cute little thing down here, huh?”
Fuuta’s heart seems to stutter at the comment just as he becomes painfully aware of Kazui’s palm wraps around his cock, followed by a series of long, dragging strokes along the shaft- and if Fuuta hasn’t cried out of shame before, he definitely is now.
“Ah… Hah… Please, not this!” With a lump slowly forming in his throat, Fuuta collects all the nerves in his body to scream for Kazui’s mercy. Instinctually, he jerks his hands in his restraints, desperate to get Kazui off of him, to get as far away from this fucked-up situation- but all he can manage is a pitiful, choked cry. “Anything but this! ”
“Would you look at that…” Much to Fuuta’s dismay, Kazui seems completely disinterested in listening to his pleas; instead taking his sweet time to indulge in his own perverse fascination for the younger man’s vigorous reactions. “I only teased you a little, and you’re already leaking like crazy,” Kazui muses, moving his hand so slowly around Fuuta’s dick that it’s painful . “Even though you’re in this kind of situation… Are you sure you aren’t a masochist?”
No matter how much Fuuta wants to deny it- to tell Kazui that he was wrong, that he’s not someone who would get turned on by this - the old man’s been anything but far from the truth. His cock - having been neglected for such a long time - is more than happy to betray him as an obscene amount of thick, clear fluid oozes from the tip, twitching happily as Kazui spreads the precum over its sensitive head, going all the way down to the shaft.
“You’re so wet… To think this tiny cock is already leaking like a faucet with only so little touch… It’s almost as if you’re nothing but a bitch in heat, huh?”
Again, Kazui goes on with his nonchalant ruminating, acting like Fuuta’s presence is nothing but trivial to him. To witness the way his cock is practically engulfed by the larger man’s hand, to hear the filthy squelching noises following every movement, Fuuta can’t help but let out an embarrassingly high-pitched whimper. His vision has gone blurry, though he is unsure whether it’s caused by the blood rushing to his face, the tears welling up in the corner of his eyes, or both.
“Fuh- Fuck off… I’m not a- not a bitch— Ahn!”
“Hm? You’re not?” Kazui sneers, grip suddenly tightening around Fuuta’s cock. “Even though you’re the one who’s been rutting against my palm like a damn dog ? Or are you already turning so dumb, you can’t even tell what’s going on with yourself anymore?”
Barely able to comprehend Kazui’s remarks, Fuuta is helpless to contain the strangled noise that leaves his throat. Despairingly, he knows Kazui is right: Fuuta has been moving on his own; fucking himself into the older man’s grasp in a desperate search for more stimulation. He knows he should feel horrible. He knows he should’ve stopped the moment he was made aware of the situation, trying his best to resist and prove Kazui wrong. And yet… Why is his body going against his will like this; bucking his hips into Kazui’s hand even harder than he did before?
“Oh my.” Of course, the damn cop is quick to taunt Fuuta the moment he sees the unexpected change of pace. “Did you really move your hips faster the moment you realized? Are you even trying to redeem yourself at all, you perverted brat?”
Fuuta closes his eyes tight, trying to ignore Kazui’s words that send shivers down his spine. As if on cue, the older man’s movement on Fuuta cock quickens, hastily sending him closer and closer to that oh-so dreadful edge. Being rendered completely helpless, Fuuta can do almost nothing but beg , grappling on his sheer will to at least save the remaining bits of his dignity; telling himself not to give in to no avail.
“No, stop! Stop it, please! I can’t- I can’t hold it anymore, fuck, I’m gonna cum I’m gonna cumI’mgonna—“
His climax hits him in waves, pulling drawn-out, broken moans from the back of Fuuta’s throat. His hips spasm and his knees buckle from the overwhelming pleasure, nearly dropping him to the floor. Through teary eyes, he watches the cloudy, sticky liquid spurting out in streaks, painting both Kazui’s palm and the dark wall in white.
Behind him, the old man clicks his tongue, disappointment evident in his tone: “Tch. Already?” The tips of Fuuta’s ears burn at the callous comment. “Well, we’ll have to do something about this. Can’t have you passing out before the punishment even finishes.”
There’s more?! Fuuta thinks to himself. Just how much suffering is this old man going to put me through until he’s satisfied?
It doesn’t take long for Fuuta’s question to be answered as Kazui gathers the what’s left over on the tip of his cock, entirely disregarding the younger’s attempt to squirm away combined with his pathetic, choked whimpers from the stimulation. Having thoroughly coated his hand with Fuuta’s cum, the older man pulls away. Unfortunately, much to Fuuta’s short-lived relief, one of Kazui’s slimy fingers begins circling and teasing around his rim. He violently jolts- painfully scraping his cheek against the wall- and sucks air through his teeth when the large digit breaches his insides in an instant, going as deep as its knuckle allows.
Fuuta writhes and wriggles, vainly attempting to escape the overstimulation with his limited mobility, only for Kazui to give a firm pull to the chain of the cuffs around his wrist, a stern warning for Fuuta to stay in his place. As Kazui leisurely pumps in and out of his hole, sending twinges of discomfort through his limp, sensitive dick, Fuuta chokes out a sob of protest: “No, not there… Please, I just came . It hurts…”
“It’ll hurt even more if you don’t relax.” The older man coldly responds. “Be glad that I’m generous enough to prepare you at all. Someone else could have made this a lot more difficult for you..”
If Fuuta’s mind had been any more lucid than it was right now, he would have definitely called the cop out on his utter bullshit. Kazui is positively, almost obnoxiously basking in his sadistic pleasure of tormenting Fuuta, taking sick delight in the younger man’s humiliating display of defeat all the while acting as if he was only doing his diligent, respectable duty as a cop. Yet here Fuuta is, trapped and helpless in Kazui’s clutch, having his hole worked open and violated with no possible way to break free.
He’s never felt so pathetic .
As Kazui inserts a second finger, Fuuta winces and lets out a small cry at the slight burn, his hole spasming as Kazui slowly works him open and meticulously massages his inner wall while pressing down on his taint. Despite the abuse it just suffered, Fuuta’s dick once again perks up, clearly excited for the new, unfamiliar stimulant.
“Hm?” Of course this catches Kazui’s attention, and Fuuta feels his face begin to burn as red as his hair. “Although you just came earlier, your dick’s already hard again. How lively…” It’s the kindest Kazui has spoken to him this entire encounter. The uncharacteristically gentle tone drags down Fuuta’s spine and makes him shudder as Kazui continues to speak: “You’re doing so well taking my fingers, too. God, it’s like your body is made to be used like this…”
Whatever Fuuta thinks his reaction to that last sentence might be, he definitely doesn’t expect it to be a keen, high-pitched moan, one that sounds more eager than it’s supposed to be considering his circumstances. He curses his body for being so susceptible to pleasure, to only serve to spur his attacker on even more.
Having been distracted by his own - albeit scrambled - thoughts, Fuuta fails to contain a yelp as thick fingers brush past a particularly sensitive area. Though he's quick to stop himself, he isn’t quick enough- the sound obviously didn’t go unheard from Kazui’s ears.
“Ah , so you feel good in this spot, huh?” The cop laughs, all mockery and no sympathy. Before Fuuta is given a proper chance to retort, Kazui shoves his fingers down onto his prostate hard . Merciless fingers prod and knead at the little bundle of nerves, turning Fuuta into nothing but a quivering, heaving mess as pressure once again builds too quickly around his groin. With trembling legs and uneven breathing following the intensified pleasure that shoots through his leaking dick, Fuuta knows he’s already close, so so close—
… That is, until Kazui pulls his fingers out entirely, robbing Fuuta off of any stimulation to push him over the edge. A needy, whorish whine involuntarily slips out of the younger’s tongue, much to his burning shame and Kazui’s twisted amusement.
“Havin’ a little too much fun there, aren’t you?” Fuuta shudders as hot air breathes against the nape of his neck. “I suppose this won’t do… It wouldn’t be a proper punishment if your slutty body enjoyed it that much, don’t you think?”
Behind him, Fuuta can hear the sound of a belt unbuckling before it hits the floor. Fuuta turns his head as best he can. His eyes widen at the sight of Kazui’s thick, heavy cock throbbing in the older man’s hold. As Kazui gives it a good few strokes before positioning the tip closer towards Fuuta’s hole, all the haze that lingers in the younger’s mind disperses, pushed away by the panic that now settles in his veins..
That’s impossible, right? Fuuta clenches his eyes shut at the prospect. He’s terrified, but the fight’s left him; his exhausted knees tremble so hard, he wonders if maybe he’d just collapse right then and there. To think Kazui has already ruined him this much with only his hand and fingers; if that thing even enters him…
It will break him.
“No… You can’t…!” Fuuta weeps, an evidently futile effort to beg the older man for mercy. His sense of self-respect be damned, if he has to grovel on the ground or even lick the dirt off the other’s shoes like a dumb dog to be spared just the tiniest bit of pity, then so be it. Otherwise, even when this torture finally ends, when Kazui finally gets bored enough to let him go, this will haunt him until he dies. “It’s too big! There’s no way that’ll fit. It’ll kill me! I’m gonna die, so please—“
For a moment, the man behind him seems to have paused. The silence unnerves him more than anything Kazui has said to him because he doesn’t know what it means- with his head hung low and bleary eyes screwed shut, he doesn’t know what face Kazui is making. He isn’t sure he wants to. Still, if the silence is a chance for him to plead for his escape; it can’t get any worse if Fuuta makes an attempt.
“Please, I know- I know I fucked up…” He sniffles, knowing full well how pathetic he must sound right now with his tearful attempt to appease Kazui. “I know I was wrong… I really can’t stand like this anymore, so please… Just let me go…”
Another beat of silence followed by a contemplative hum from Kazui.
“Hmm… I suppose you do sound remorseful of your actions.” Fuuta feels his chest swell with a breath of hopeful anticipation. “If that’s the case, I’ll just have to lend you a hand.”
… What?
Before he can comprehend what Kazui meant, Fuuta is suddenly completely off the ground; Kazui’s sturdy arms wrap around his legs, pressing his knees tightly against the chest and effectively rendering him immobile. From this position, Kazui’s hot, stiffened cock has now become clearer in his vision: one with a girthy, veiny base; its upward curve allows Fuuta to see the sight of the gland, oozing with precum and twitching with excitement. In a normal situation, the sight might have made him drool a bit.
But this isn’t a normal situation , and whatever arousal that might be simmering inside him is immediately overcome by uncontrollable anguish, causing Fuuta to twist and turn his body as violently as possible against Kazui’s grip as he screams and wails through gritted teeth: “ NO ! You can’t fucking do this to me! I’ll- I’ll fucking kill you, you bastard! Let go of me! Put me DOWN !”
Contrary to Fuuta’s expectation that Kazui might falter, or at least taken off guard by his reaction, he can feel the cop grin .
“Just as I thought, you still haven’t properly learned your lesson, have you?” There’s a hint of callousness in his husky voice that drips into Fuuta’s ear, pouring despair straight down into the pit of his stomach. “Well then, let’s see how much fight you’ll have in you left by the time I’m done with you, shall we?”
Kazui maneuvers Fuuta so that the tip of his cock lightly presses against the younger man’s entrance and then slowly, slowly pushes in, the head of his cock gradually intruding Fuuta’s thrashing, trembling body. Despite the aching pressure now forming in his stomach, Fuuta refuses to back down. Every little movement he makes seems to put him in more pain than the last, and if he could just get the leverage then maybe he’d be able to push himself off of Kazui…
His resistance- and his hope- doesn’t last much longer. Kazui rams deep inside him, fully bottoming out, and Fuuta can do nothing but sob and scream as loud as his burning lungs will allow, movements hindered to the most poignant writhes and squirms under Kazui’s arms. It hurts! It hurts so bad! But no matter how much it fucking hurts he is trapped, static in Kazui’s grip until the man decides he is satisfied.
“Fucking hell—” Kazui groans, clearly relishing in Fuuta’s reactions. “Such a needy little bitch, aren’t you? You’re taking my dick so well- it’s like your body is made for it.” For some reason, for some fucking reason, every sentence that spills out of the old man’s vulgar mouth has begun sending waves of searing heat between Fuuta’s thighs, taking him by surprise as the pain slowly morphs itself into pleasure. This is fucked up! - Fuuta laments to himself - I’m not supposed to feel good from any of this!
“You’ve been acting all tough and cocky, but you’re actually nothing but a slut who gets off on being violated, huh?” Kazui continues rambling as he frenziedly pounds into Fuuta, his voice blending in with the obscene sounds of smacking flesh and Fuuta’s loud, filthy moans. “Better keep it down with those noises, though, or someone might pass by and see you. Or would you rather they catch you looking like this so you can show off just how much of a whore you are?”
If Kazui can feel Fuuta tighten around him at the question, he certainly doesn’t point it out. Fuuta doesn’t have the coherency to pay it much mind either, especially when he’s struggling to express his remorse through tears, his words interrupted by sobs that are punched out of him with every brutal thrust. “ I’m sorry! I’m sorry- hic - I was wrong! I was wrong!” He’s fully crying now, warm tears streaking down his cheeks as his head falls back into Kazui’s shoulder. “Please, forgive me! I promise I won’t do bad things anymore, I promise , so please-!”
The way Kazui scoffs at him tells him that his atonement falls on deaf ears. “ Now you’re apologizing? Where’s all of the attitude you had earlier, hm? Committing such crimes and yet immediately falling apart once you are caught… I bet you’re not even truly sorry, are you?”
And for the second time that night, Fuuta is hardly able to bask in the blissful sensation of his approaching release before Kazui’s movements come to a halt, once again depriving him of his much-needed gratification. Head swimming, Fuuta barely registers Kazui’s whisper, one that - for how many times he’s honestly lost count - pumps excruciating dread and horror into his veins:
“Do you think I’m gonna let you get away that easily? We have all the night to ourselves, so let’s take our time to properly drill those lessons into that dumb little brain of yours…” The suggestion is raised in a grossly saccharine tone, one that is laced with such malicious intent it makes Fuuta’s stomach churn with apprehension. “...Do your best to stay awake, will you?”
Fuuta is already at his limit.
He’s been at his limit for what feels like forever. It’s hard to tell just how long it’s been but it’s felt like hours have passed . Being subjected to this cruel treatment- this torture - of being edged time and time again while feeling completely stuffed full between Kazui’s cock and his cum- just how many times did Kazui come at this point? It’s all too much, to the point where Fuuta thinks he might actually burst sooner or later. His sticky, sweat-drenched body, now limp from exhaustion, is unable to do anything but take whatever the older man has to give him. God, even his face must look like a wreck, covered in drool and tears and snot as he gradually loses himself to the pleasure.
As the head of Kazui’s cock once again brushes past his overstimulated, throbbing prostate, Fuuta whimpers, his entire body spasming against his will. His dick, red and leaking from the building tension, sways up and down following the old man’s erratic rhythm. It’s demeaning, being manhandled in such a manner, being beaten down to this point as if Fuuta has been nothing but a toy— a mere fleshlight that Kazui can use as he pleases.
That kind of thought shouldn’t have sent twinges of arousal down his spine, traveling all the way to his trembling cock, and yet it does.
Tragically, much like the time before and every other time before that, Kazui completely stops the moment Fuuta feels himself teetering on the edge, only to be yanked away before he can let himself fall. Broken and desperate for release, Fuuta devolves into a frenzy, wailing and blabbering like an idiot as he begs for Kazui to just let him cum already.
If this goes on any longer, if Kazui doesn’t stop soon, he will lose his fucking mind.
“ Please !” The young man bawls, a pathetic, gurgled cry just barely managing to leave his throat. “Let me cum! I already said sorry, I know I’m wrong, so please— I’m gonna lose my mind!”
“How adorable… You’ve been begging me to stop this whole time, but now all you want to do is cum? To think you’d break so easily…” Despite his mocking of Fuuta’s admission of defeat, Kazui has seemingly decided to be kind enough to start rocking his hips slowly again, giving Fuuta just enough pleasure to spark the fire in his body once more. “But if you promise to behave, I’ll let you. You can be a good boy for me, right?”
His breath is warm and his voice is so close and yet Kazui’s words seem to cool his face, immediately snapping Fuuta to attention. Without his permission, his hips desperately bare down in a mindless attempt for stimulation. Did he just hear what Kazui said correctly? He’ll finally let me cum?
“Yes, yes… you’ll get to cum to your heart’s content, alright?” Oh. Did Fuuta just say that last thought out loud? “So long as you won’t run around the streets and cause any more trouble, I’ll let your poor little cock cum so much, you won’t be able to get off normally anymore. Doesn’t that sound nice? Can you promise that for me?”
And just like that, the dam breaks. Any rationality left in Fuuta is instantly thrown out of the window as he cries out, “ Yes! Yes, yes, I will! I promise I’ll be a good boy for you, so please! Please let me c— ah !”
Kazui oh-so slowly hoists Fuuta up until all that’s left inside of him is the tip and holds him there for a single, tortuous moment before he finally begins driving into him with abandon. Fuuta lets out a scream that is nothing short of guttural; his eyes roll back as pressure builds far too quickly in his stomach. Intense, blinding pleasure courses through his veins and suddenly he’s cumming, abused body convulsing in Kazui’s arms as his release splatters against the wall and himself- except he never seems to be done and his cock keeps leaking, completely draining every ounce of adrenaline from his body.
As Kazui spills into him one last time and fills him to the brim, Fuuta’s vision turns fuzzy, head reeling from remnants of shockwaves running through him-
He feels his body go limp in Kazui’s hold before the world goes dark.
Fuuta stirs at the sound of birds.
…Birds?
He’s awake, or at least he’s beginning to be, but it feels like his eyelids are weighed down by exhaustion. Every muscle in his body seems to hold a deeply sated ache, his face burns with what he’s fairly certain is struggle-induced scrapes, and his back feels like it could snap with any sort of pressure after laying against the brick wall for who knows how long.
Maybe I should just stay here and die.
With a disappointed groan, Fuuta shakes the thought out of his head and finally forces his eyes open to acknowledge the reality he’s found himself in. He’s met with the sight of… Looking perfectly normal. If it weren’t for the injury on his cheek, it would look to an outsider as if nothing had happened to him at all. Fuuta is completely clean, no fluids or stickiness or anything to be found; his shorts are on and his mask sits folded neatly in his lap. The only indication that what happened to him wasn’t some fucked-up nightmare was the fact that his leggings were torn.
The juxtaposition of Kazui’s actions is completely lost on Fuuta. Why bother to clean him up? Why make it look like he just… fell asleep in the alleyway? The cop is definitely long gone by now- was he even a real police officer?
All of the questions makes Fuuta’s head pound. He won’t get any answers, not without enduring the shame and embarrassment of having to tell the police what happened to him. He knows he’s not going to forget, but he doesn’t need it to drag on and become an entire investigation. It’s too much.
With another groan, this time of pain, Fuuta brings himself to stand. He can see dim light shining down the street- the sun must be coming up. His legs shake and knock his knees together, nearly taking him down to the floor again, but he manages to keep upright with the wall as support. He feels different . It isn't just the pain, he's fairly sure of that, but his head hurts too much to analyze the feeling and he has no other thoughts other than to get home .
His phone suddenly buzzes in his jacket pocket, and he pauses to pull it out. He had honestly forgotten he had brought it with him. Fuuta takes a quick moment to observe the device and, luckily, it seems like it didn’t sustain any damage from the night before. Another text comes in and pulls his attention away from the status of the phone, and he turns on the screen.
The group chat of his friends asking about the graffiti.
There’s no concern in the messages. Fuuta can only see some from the notification bar- he doesn’t want them to see he’s reading the chat- but they’re all mocking him, calling him a coward for running away from the challenge since he never responded to them that he did it. Not an ounce of worry that something may have happened to him after he ghosted them for so long.
Fuuta angrily shoves his phone back in his pocket and slowly continues home.