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Chapter 8: Dinner in Mischief

The door of room number 101 was slammed open by one livid blondie. Seriously, even hell hath no fury like a besotted Deimon's quarterback. His team members barely evaded their journey to the after life, courtesy of their captain's collections, ranging from rapid-fire machine gun, automatic assault rifle and flamethrower. Brother of God knew how thankful they were for nuke weapon was prohibited, seeing that he would damn nuke them if he could.

Narrowing his sight at a certain figure laid sprawled on his favorite couch at the living room, he strolled over, angered by why for god-awful sake she hadn't told him before hand. Seeing her serene face, definitely due to her crazy schedule, he almost forgot his anger, well, almost.

Stirring from the light nap, the figure started to move and flex the limbs out of habit. Imagine how startled she was to find that she could only manage a wiggle. Apparently someone had tied her ankles and wrists at the front with soft cloth material, and said someone was currently sitting and had laid her head on his lap.

Shifting in his lap, she sighed, "Yōichi, what are these?" She shoved her hands up on him, "Come on, untie me, I need to make dinner."

"First, Dollface, what the fuck was that? You play fucking mascot for football and shit, now enlighten me." Growling, he glared.

"Ah, was it today's Totosai?" She brightened sheepishly before clearing her throat. "Well, I'm appointed as JAFA's mascot figure. So, guess what? I could finally be cheering on you and your team!" She visibly beamed at the prospect.

Not satisfied, he pressed on. "But you've gotta be cheering on other teams too, every fucking single of them." He stressed the latter. At his remark, her face fell slightly before pouting prettily.

"That is inevitable, you knew, and you know that." She shot him a glance before lowering her eyes again.

Taking one long look at her, he decided to let it drop. Shifting her body a bit, he carried her toward the kitchen, putting her on her feet, then released only the tie around her ankles. Looking at her wrists, she asked, "And what about my hands?"

"Kekekekeke, you could make dinner just fucking fine with that." He gave her his patented diabolical grin.

"You evil jerk! Just because I forgot notifying before hand, you just have to be mean to me!" She whined pathetically, yet proceeding to chop some veggies nonetheless. He sat on the counter, watching her rants, content to rile her up. Because for him there's nothing more amusing than pissing his lovely doll off.

EXTRA

"Yōichi," She singsonged, "I wanna eat too, how am I supposed to eat with these tied hands?" She huffed her complaint.

Chewing his food, he casually fed her from the same plate he's currently using, "Here."

Blinking innocently, she took the bite, oblivious to the overly intimate atmosphere they made. Soon she gave him an expectant look for another bite. He directed the spoon before her mouth, but he ended taunting her, shoving it into his mouth instead.

"KEKEKEKEKEKE!" He flaunted another spoon but this time she beat him to it, chomping it down as soon as he placed it before his face, which led her to leap on him and ended up sitting on his lap.

A series of giggling came forth when a hellish scowl appeared on his face, and that changed into peals of laughter, denoting that the demon had his prey's death by tickles, before dragging said prey to her original quarter diagonally across his place, the only other room in the same level of one of Tokyo's first-rate apartment, and finishing dinner at hers instead.

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AN: Too bad they only share the same floor. I'm glad and humbled if my story could bring about any sort of enjoyment as well.