oh no oooooh no

don't tell nagito,, it's too sexy

It was an overwhelmingly bright day on the island when Hajime awoke, the sun shinign through his slightly askew curtains. He groaned, pulling the covers over his messy hair.
It had been a couple days since the survivors of the killing game had decided to stay on Jabberwock Island, and Hajime was still getting use to waking up to the sunlight instead of the insistent yelling of Monokuma. Even without the bear’s schedule, the six students still decided to meet up for breakfast to start their days. So, begrudgingly, Hajime ran his hand through his ahoge (unsuccessfully trying to pin it down) and climed his way out of bed.
    It didn’t take him long to make his way to the dining area, although he made sure to look around for any stragglers to talk to (there were none, weirdly. He must have been the last to leave his cabin). Arriving at the dining hall, he swung open the door, only to find…. nobody? Strange; perhaps everyone was already upstairs, he thought.
Hajime moved to climb the stairs, taking note of the distinct lack of sounds coming from the upstairs. As he neared the top, his suspicions were proven correct: no one was there.
    “Maybe they all…. forgot?”
Just saying it out loud made it seem silly. How could they all simultaneously forget? Hajime wasn’t too worried though, he knew that nothing bad could happen to his friends now. They probably all just got held up or something.
    Hajime considered heading back to the cabin area, and checking on everyone, but just then his stomach let out a loud growl. Checking on his friends would have to wait; first, breakfast.
Looking at the table before him, it seemed as though breakfast had already been laid out, although by whom he wasn’t sure. There were several platters set, all containing copious amounts of breakfast food. One platter in particular caught Hajime’s attention.
    A silver dish covered in plump fruits, all of enormous size. Bananas, strawberries, melon, and kiwis. But placed directly in the middle of all the fruit, was the most beautiful orange Hajime had ever seen. I was roughly the size of a nice breast, and as smooth as one too. The sheer, perfect roundness of it was something that you could only see in animation. To be honest: the boy was in awe.
Looking around to make sure no one else had entered the room, he slowly walked towards the platter. He tentatively reached foward, running his index finger alojng the orange. It was too smooth, too perfect. Now, brushing his thumb along the fruit, Hajime had to suppress a scowl. What gave a damn fruit the right to be so… without flaws? It was unfair that he, a human, had to deal with twists and turns while this mere food enjoyed a steady journey, as smooth as its own peel.
    He didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt the urge to ruin it. Destroy it. I mean, how fucking dare this fruit remind him of how imperfect he actually was?!
Filled with rage and something else, Hajime swiped at the fruit, knocking everything else off the tray and onto the floor. He didn’t care, he needed this; needed to feel this thing break beneath him. Hajime was better than a fucking orange, and he was going to prove it.
    Bringing the plump fruit to his lips, he violently bit down. The tangy peel broke beneath his canines and the sweet taste of juice invaded his mouth. It was intoxicating. One bite wasn’t enough; Hajime wasn’t going to stop until the orange lay covered with bite marks. This primal urge wasn’t one that he was familar with, but there was no way he was going to stop now.
Juice dribbled down his cheek, dripping rhythmically onto the floor as he continued ravishing the orange with everything he had. He furtively licked wherever he left teeth marks, like cleaning off a wound. It wasn’t long until his greedy lips couldn’t find a spot where he hadn’t already attacked, but his hunger wasn’t satisfied yet.
Taking a deep breath, and once again looking around, Hajime pressed his fingers into the damaged fruit. What was left of the outside layer gave way beneath his determined pushing, and he felt his own skin being covered in sticky fluid. He withdrew his hand, gazing with clouded eyes as it before sticking out his tongue, and letting it run along his covered fingers. His eyes rolled slightly as he pushed his index and middle into his drooling mouth, hollowing his cheeks so that he could feel the entirety of his warm, wet mouth around his own skin.
    With the now spit-coated fingers, Hajime entered (once again) into the orange. This time slowly, trying his hardest feel the whole sensations of the fruit contorting around him. As soon as he reached the middle, he took out his fingers again, automatically whining at the loss. He didn’t have to whine for long though, because a second after he withdrew, he pounded into the orange again. Hard. He continued the vicious pumping in and out, accomanbied by the soft squelching sounds of pulp rubbing against skin. Just a little more… Just a little more, he could feel it.
With a finger thrust and curve of his digits, Hajime felt pressure being released all at once. The orange practically squirted around him, hitting his chin and neck with the lukewarm spray of its juices. Hajime was lucky enough to dart his tongue out at the right moment, and catch the falling spray of liquid on his tongue. It was bitter, and sweet all at once. He could’ve sworn he felt the taste ingraining itself into his brain. He had never felt more alert and alive, every sensation was brighter and more intense.
    As Hajime came down from his own high, he stared at what was left of the orange. Battered and abused, it almost seemed to stare at him. Hajime turned away from the scene, glancing down at his messy hands, and felt an odd sensation of embarrassment. What had he just done? What was that? He mentally chided himself before attempting to clean up what fruit was spilled on the floor. His friends still hadn’t showed up, although that was probably for the better at this point. Hajime resolved that he should probably check on them.
Before heading down the stairs, he glanced one last time at the orange he had left on the table, he couldn’t bring himself to move it. It was still beautiful, in a broken way. Before Hajime could have any other strange thoughts, he turned away and rushed out of the dining area, noticing the uncomfortable strain when he moved.
    Hajime had really no idea what had come over him in those moments, but one thing is for sure: he will never look at orange juice in the same way.