Takata Mashiho Oneshots

His effect

Mashiho taking his shirt off wasn't a new event. It certainly wasn't out of character for him, considering the guy sweat like a pig in a sauna and seemed to constantly have a body temperature similar to that of an active volcano. But right now, you couldn't ignore the spectacle that was happening before you.

You'd seen Mashiho's bare torso more times than you could count on your fingers by now, but right here, right now, it was like the sun appearing from behind dark, grey clouds. Suddenly, your biology mock exam paper was almost forgotten as your pen tightened in your hand.

Inch by inch, Mashiho revealed his milky white, smooth skin as if he was auditioning for a job at Abercrombie and Fitch, his jeans hung low on his hips as your eyes zoned in on the V-line you'd heard all about. Your friends had told you repeatedly that Mashiho possessed one of them, but now you were noticing it, the whole thing was a big game changer. When his shirt was all the way off, he had the audacity to turn his back to you, his skin flexing and rippling as he threw the shirt over his head so it would hit you directly in the face. Fuck, how his smell was on you, covering you in a heady mix of rosewood and a hint of the summer sheen of sweat he'd been complaining about. The odd feeling that crept from your stomach out to the tips of your fingers and toes almost made you angry, confused at where all this had come from and what you were meant to do with it.

"Mashiho, you're disgusting! Get your sweaty ass shirt off my bed," Throwing it back at your best friend, he simply hiccuped a laugh, a dorky sound that managed to bring you back down to earth a little more. He caught the shirt with one hand, tossing it on the ground where he settled back down to continue working on his paper. You feigned concentration, eyes skipping from the paper below you to Mashiho's calm, relaxed face as he furrowed his brows. His hair hung over his forehead, and you noticed a couple of strands were stuck to his skin from the perspiration. He nonchalantly reached up, pushing the hair off his forehead and revealing his forehead to your widening eyes.

Had he always been this hot? Had he really?

"Okay, I can't concentrate. It's too hot in here," You pushed your body up from the bed, swivelling your legs to set your feet on the carpet, "Lets go drive and get ice cream or something. I can't work in these conditions,"

Mashiho's lips dipped at the corners, but he did nothing to protest, standing as you swiped his shirt off the ground.

"And put this on, nobody wants to see that," That was the fattest lie you'd ever told, but your face remained passive as Mashiho rolled his eyes before taking the shirt from you. He pulled it on over his head, and you bit back a smile at the way his black hair became ruffled, haphazardly hanging just over his grinning eyes.

"You know this is only for you, Y/N," He plucked at your nose, and you batted him away, trying your hardest to look disgusted like you would any other time. As you pushed him out of your room, you rubbed at your cheeks, desperate to hide the blush that had appeared out of nowhere.

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