#Sun Wakasa Gold | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inkykeiji · 1 year

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warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, drugs, sucking waka off through his undies, lots of cum + cum swallowing, clear hints of a toxic relationship, fem!reader

words: 1.3k

anyway this was supposed to be like a three hundred word drabble but it grew way out of proportion and now here we are. he’s so icky and yummy hehe c: inspired by that photo of his bedroom where he’s just chilling in his undies

Thinking about Waka in his undies :( lounging around in his tight black briefs :( thinking about lazing around with him, draped over his lap maybe, in your own undies :( a cute matching set of delicate lace and satin ribbons that clings almost tenderly to all of your curves and edges, something much too pretty to be hidden away beneath layers of clothing—or, at least, that’s what Wakasa had sworn to you.

Thinking about getting high with Waka in your undies :( straddling his lap with your palms pressed to his stomach and your giggles wafting across his face, using your tongues to shove smiley-stamped pills into each other’s waiting mouths, licking at the edges of teeth and chapped lips as they retreat.

Thinking about the manufactured bliss gushing through your veins in thick torrents nearly half an hour later, that sweet, sharp, telltale gasp he loves so much spilling from your lips as it hits all at once—eyes wide, mouth wider, lungs swelling with a heavy intake of air—one of those leery, lazy smirks smeared across his face.

Everything is heightened; smells and sensations, the scent of sugar twined with his breath as his mumbled words melt on your tongue, cascading down your throat in warm, tingling streams.

You can taste his voice, you swear you can, though he laughs when you tell him so, violet eyes lidded and heavy as fingers follow the line of your hair, the curve of your cheek, the edge of your jaw.

You’re so cute when you’re fucked up, he tells you, compliment shimmering in the air. It’s precious how low your tolerance is.

But he has to be careful, he’s mumbling to himself, almost as if making a personal note aloud, voice scrawling it in the air, eyes rolled up to the ceiling, forehead scrunched in serious concentration. If he isn't careful, he’s gonna ruin it, and then you’ll be no fun at all.

He needs to cherish this, to savour this, to indulge himself only sparingly in a effort to keep your tolerance from climbing too high. He doesn’t want to waste more drugs on you than he needs to.

You don’t really understand, but you suppose it doesn’t really matter either way—not when he’s here, and he’s so pretty, made of amethyst and gold and glittering in the setting sun pouring through the grimy front windows of his apartment.

It’s impossible to keep your hands off of him, desperate to feel his bare flesh against your own—the smooth, sleek planes of his abdomen, the bony bumps and ridges of his ribs, the soft curves and dips of his biceps—and, it seems, he feels the exact same way about you.

Time drips by in slow, stringy dollops as you both knead and fondle and caress and grope, marvelled by each other’s skin alone, by the sensation of each other below your palms, between your fingers, beneath your nails, hands gliding over one another until his cock is hard and flushed and leaking, constant dribbles of precum seeping through the straining black fabric.

It looks cute, you think, yearning for your touch, your tongue, and you trace it with an index finger, collecting the gluey mixture on the pad and giggling at the way his head flops back against the couch and his cock jumps, a groan rumbling behind his sternum.

Your cunt is soaked, too—he can feel it, drenched lace tacky against his bare thigh as your hips rock in tiny uneven movements. You don’t seem too concerned about it, though, despite the unconscious little rutting against his leg, more interested in his drooling cock.

His precum is thicker than anything you’ve ever seen before, messily oozing through the material of his briefs like sticky syrup, viscous, glassy cords keeping your fingertips conjoined as you idly tap them together, and you wonder aloud if it tastes as sweet as it looks.

Why don’t you lick it up and see for yourself? he says, hips nudging up just a little in indication, in anticipation.

That sounds like a wonderful idea, the best idea he’s ever had, you’re absolutely sure of it, you’re babbling with cute enthusiastic little nods of your head as your body slides down his own, knees sinking into his scratchy carpet, torso wedged between his spread thighs.

Holding his bleary gaze, your tongue unfurls from your mouth, tip flattening against the clothed head and giving one slow, hard lap, thoroughly sopping up the substance. Another fat glob instantly weeps through the drenched fabric, eager to replace what’s been lost.

It doesn’t taste as sweet as it looks, you’re astonished to discover, bitter and putrid like his favourite brand of cheap cigarettes, but you keep lapping away at it despite the taste, quick, firm laves of your tongue diligently blotting up the endless trickle.

Because you just can’t get enough of him; can’t get enough of the throaty whines and shards of curses you keep yanking from his mouth, splintered to bits by those sharp intakes of breath, can’t get enough of the way his hips jerk up in twitchy little motions with each roll of your tongue against his slit, his blunt nails scraping against the polyester couch cushions, his thighs flexing.

It has you drawing the whole head into your mouth, tongue curling around the underside and suckling on the tip, then rubbing over the head in faster, stronger strokes as your lips pucker around it, the cotton of his briefs beginning to chafe your tastebuds, each drag across his cock sprouting burning little tingles in its wake.

It has him cumming within mere minutes, hot and gooey and so, so much, soiling the inside of his boxers and staining your tongue with his taste. It bleeds through the fabric in steady surges, decorating his lap in pretty pearlescent piping, thick stripes of cream that have saliva pooling beneath your tongue.

You can’t help but lap them up, acrid and tart and burning your throat, a cruel trick your foggy brain, pumped full and drowning in artificial euphoria, has played on you yet again; looks like icing, is most definitely not icing, a notion you’ve discovered many times in situations exactly like this, a notion that refuses to stick.

Because it’s so pretty, way too pretty to be left to dry, hard and crusted and glazed, on a pair of cheap underwear, and you swallow all of it, not a single drop gone to waste, mopping him clean with your eager tongue until his briefs shine with your spit.

He cums so easily when he’s rolling, you’re giggling into his soggy cock, nuzzling your cheek into his lap, another weak spurt of cum melting through the material.

You collapse against his thigh, tongue dabbing at your lips, sopping up any remnants of him and humming softly.

You could stay here forever, you think, you drool out dreamily into his skin, tangled in threads of spit. He wouldn’t mind if you did, he admits quietly, a palm cupping the crown of your head, thumb moving in rhythmic caresses across your sweaty hair.

But then the grinding starts, jaw flexing and clenching against his bare thigh as your molars scrape together, and he’s sloppily hoisting you up with his thumbs hooked beneath your arms, cradling you in his lap.

Calloused fingertips, gone hard and numb from cigarette ash, massage soothing little circles into the hinges of your jaw—one of his many (failed) precautionary measures, to lessen the pain when the grinding and clenching starts.

“S’any better?” he questions and you shake your head, a small frown marring his face in response.

Reaching around your body, he fiddles in a small glass bowl, plastic crunching and candy tinkering, until his fingers find what they were searching for.

“Here,” he’s saying as he unwraps one of his favourite lollipops—half chocolate, half vanilla, fingers extra careful as they peel the candy from its casing—and holds the sweet to your lips, urging them to open. “This will help, I promise.”

#imaushi wakasa x reader #imaushi wakasa smut #imaushi wakasa x you #waka x reader #waka smut #waka x you #tw:drugs

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shoyoist · 2 years

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— 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 : sano shinichiro.

cw: gn!reader. barista!y/n. lots of fluff, strangers to lovers except you already sorta know eachother, so it's a bit of a speed run. shin bounces from confident to insecure a lot. a cute cameo by baby inupi. happy birthday, sano shinichiro my love.

wc: approximately 3.3k

⠀⠀⠀⠀ — . ｡˚ ♡ shinichiro plans to confess his feelings to you, the cute barista at his favourite coffee shop. on his birthday. but it doesn't play out as he expected.

the coffee shop seems even busier than usual, on the morning of august first.

teenagers getting together to hang out and make the best of their summer break, office workers sneaking in for a quick morning meal, and groups of tourists on their way out to the beach all flock to the counter — some scanning the menus displayed overhead, some with their usual order already on their tongue.

shinichiro has been seated at the back for an hour now, only a cup of plain black in front of him on the table.

he's leaning on his fist, gaze as bored and sleepy as he can disguise it to be, as he pretends to look out of the window across the room.

every now and then, his eyes stop tracing the logo stamped on the window, and he sneaks a longing glance at you, as you stand at the counter, tallying up bill after bill for the morning crowd.

the sun that streams through the storefront is a pale gold, and it throws gentle highlights onto your complexion.

it puts a pretty glimmer in your eyes, and accentuates all the lines of your figure as you lean back to talk to one of the other baristas.

when you reach forward to hand a customer their change, there's a glow to your smile as you thank them, telling them you hope they'll come again.

to sum up, you're fucking gorgeous, and all shinichiro can do is sit there and stare.

he's texted wakasa, benkei and takeomi and asked them to join him, but they're taking their time getting to the place.

they don't take him seriously, he knows, but you'd given him a look and a pretty smile when he walked into the shop — as you’ve been doing for a while now, and he swears he has a chance this time.

shinichiro doesn't even know how or when he became so infatuated with you.

he'd just walked in here one day, before opening up the bike shop, feeling like shit and deciding to opt for a coffee rather than a smoke. and as soon as your fingers touched while you handed him his drink, he'd fallen in love.

maybe it was after the sip he took out of it (coffee you'd made for him with your lovely hands) with his gaze still on you, eyes a little too wide and starstruck for his own good.

maybe you'd put something in his drink. maybe it was some sort of love potion — hell, he doesn't know.

all he's sure of, is that you're beautiful. and on this lovely, sunny morning on the first day of august — on his birthday — he's feeling confident.

he wants to tell you he likes you, and he wants to compliment your smile. your voice, your eyes. and he's going to do it today.

if only his stupid fucking friends would get here sooner, then he could practise his lines with them, and get to you before your shift is over.

another fifteen minutes pass as he sits there in the corner and waits.

and then, shinichiro notices you get called over by a frazzled looking coworker.

there's an exchange of words between the two of you, before you pull back your shoulders, give your coworker an assuring nod, and walk out of the cafe through the back door.

he doesn't know what just happened, but his heart sinks.

you look just as pretty from the back, the dark green pants and white shirt combo that all the employees wear hugs your figure nicely, and you have an attractive walk.

but you're walking away, and that other girl takes your place at the counter, getting a drink of water and tying her hair back before she gets to work serving the line.

wait, he thinks. how ‘m i supposed to confess to you if you leave?

he does have the option to just get up and follow you out, call your name and get you to pay a sliver of your time and attention to him, while he tells you how he feels.

but he can’t bring himself to it — he remains frozen in his seat, watching as you disappear behind the door, heart sinking further and chest hollowing out as he loses sight of you.

a waiter inches his way up to shinichiro as he sits there dejectedly, hoping you’d be gone only for a little while, and asks tentatively, "another coffee, sir?"

"nah." he shakes his head. "i'm waiting to see if my friends show up. if they aren't here in fifteen, i'm cashing this cup in and heading out."

the waiter nods politely and wanders off to another table, and shinichiro maintains his stare on the back door that you'd walked out of.

please, he prays. come back.

he doesn't know how much longer he sits there for. it's definitely more than fifteen minutes, but he's upset. the buzz of conversation going around him fades into a dull hum, as he props his elbows on the table and rests his face in his hands.

the one thing he wanted to do on his birthday today, was to confess to you. or at least tell you you're looking beautiful today (and every other day, too).

but now, he can't do it. because you're gone. he'll have to leave for work soon, and his damned friends are still nowhere to be seen.

and really, it was alright even if he didn’t get to confess to you. he might’ve bailed out on it himself, even if you’d been at the counter all day, available for him to converse with.

but of all days in which you could all of a sudden leave work in the middle of your shift, it had to be today?

on his birthday, when—

"shin?"

there's a voice talking into shinichiro's ear all of a sudden, and he flinches, whirling around in his seat with his hand raised and ready to slap whoever it is — but just in time, he realizes, it's a kid.

"m-mikey?"

"no," says the little boy, blinking pale eyes shadowed by pale eyelashes, and shaking a head full of even paler hair.

his cheeks are rosy with the summer heat — and shinichiro notices the scar over his eye a little too late. "why do people keep calling me the wrong names? i'm inui."

"i—" shinichiro has to laugh despite his sour mood, because the kid is adorable. "sorry, seishu. didn't see ya there."

"'s okay." inui mumbles, fidgeting with the pocket of his hoodie. he pulls out a little cardboard box, crumpled in his hand, and gives it to shinichiro. "i got you a birthday present."

"aw, thank you little man." he coos, taking the box from the boy and setting it down on the table. inui waits for a few seconds, before he clears his throat. "you're supposed to open it."

"oh." shinichiro mouths. inui gives him an unimpressed look, lidded eyes rolling in their sockets at him, as he snatches the box back and peels the top open with his thumbnail. "what've you got for me, huh?"

it's a bracelet — one of those elastic ones with tons of tiny, multi-coloured beads on them.

he cant help but wonder where inui might've got it from, but he slips it onto his wrist anyway, and gives him a grin. "it's great. thanks, buddy. now why don't you tell me how you found me here?"

"um," inui seems to take some time to retrace his steps. "i went to the bike shop. but only benkei was there. he said you were at the coffee place, so i came here."

"what's he doin' there?" shinichiro frowns, and inui shrugs unhelpfully. "dunno. gas, i think."

"i give them a spare key for emergencies and they just go in there any fuckin' time they want." he runs a hand through his hair, starting to feel like he should just give up and go.

once his friends make their way into his shop, they never leave. not until he closes the place up for the night, or chases them out. so, most likely, they wouldn't be coming to the coffee shop any time soon.

it doesn't look like you'll be back either, and if wakasa joins benkei and finds the collection of tapes he's stored away under the counter, he's never going to hear the end of it.

before he can get up, take inui's little hand in his and get going, though, inui climbs onto the empty seat next to him and makes himself comfortable. "why are you here, shin? 's your birthday. you should go hang out with your friends."

"i'm an adult, seishu." shinichiro laughs, flopping back against his own seat.

fine, maybe he'll buy inui a muffin or something first.

"i have work from 9 to 5, even on my birthday. 'm just here for some coffee before i open the shop." he shrugs his shoulders, glancing at the back door once again, though you’re no where in sight.

"why can't you get coffee at home?" inui asks, and he reaches over to ruffle the boy's fluffy cloud of hair. "'cause then mikey's gonna ask me for coffee. kids shouldn't drink coffee."

"i drink coffee." inui remarks, and at this point, shinichiro's too tired to care.

he asks the waiter for a muffin, and the man shoots inui a strange look (probably wondering if this is the friend shinichiro had been talking about) before fetching him what he requested.

a moment passes, and as shinichiro watches inui nibble on the chocolate dessert, he feels an urge to emote in his chest.

"and also ... there's someone workin' here," he begins slowly, testing the waters. inui looks up immediately, eyes bright and clear. so he finishes his sentence. "someone that i may like."

"you like them?" inui lowers his voice (like a good friend. waka, benkei and omi could never. neither could mikey). he turns and looks around, eyeing the waiters and the new girl at the counter. "which one?"

"think they're out back right now. or maybe gone." shinichiro sighs. "i came here to ... confess. but they left, and i have to get to work myself soon. i lost my chance."

inui gives him a confused look. "what do you mean?" then, without letting him explain, the boy hops off his chair and starts walking towards the exit, taking the muffin with him. "just come out and look for them."

for a second, shinichiro doesn't get it.

so he just sits there and watches inui push the door open and walk out — before it clicks, all of a sudden, and he shoves the chair back and leaps to his feet. "seishu, no!"

ignoring the looks everyone else in the shop aims at him, he pulls his work jacket back around his shoulders, and runs out after inui.

the sun and the hot breeze outside is a sharp contrast to the air conditioned shop, but he blinks the effect of the heat back and stumbles around the building to the back, hoping inui hasn't done anything stupid.

he tears around the corner and sees inui, and opens his mouth to call out his name — before freezing instantly, upon realizing that he's already talking to you. "sei— fuck."

inui turns around, blinking doe eyes up at him innocently.

and of course, you look up at him, too.

so you hadn't left.

shinichiro has only ever seen you behind the counter.

or when you're clocking in for your shift in the morning. or when you're leaving in the afternoon, sometimes, if he's taking a break from his own bike shop and loitering around. which is all from a distance, or behind a glass wall.

right now, though, you're standing right in front of him.

your apron is off, revealing more of your body to him — and your hands are now gloved, and there's a van behind you, the back of it full of wooden boxes.

some of the boxes are on the ground, and he understands that you're unloading them. supplies for the cafe, he assumes. maybe this was initially your coworker’s job, and then you’d switched tasks. yeah.

fuck, you're so pretty.

a nervous chill rides up shinichiro's spine, even as the sun’s warmth pools over him, lighting up his dark eyes and dark hair as he walks a few steps forward. "uh, seishu. let's go."

"this is him. see? he’s here to tell you." inui says to you, and shinichiro's hands curl up into fists where they're inside his pockets.

“did you—” he hisses at the boy, before catching himself and skirting his eyes back to yours. did he spill everything to you?

inui simply bites into the muffin, that he's still holding cupped in his palms.

shinichiro's face burns, even though nothing has happened yet, and he knows he's blushed too hard for you to pass it off as an effect of the summer heat.

"hi," you smile at him, breaking the awkward silence. you seem unfazed, and he really doesn't know what's happening anymore. "shinichiro?"

"uh," he stumbles on his words again — he's embarrassing himself, now, for fuck's sake. "yeah. how'd ya know my name?"

"your little brother told me." you gesture to inui, with a little giggle that sounds so cute as it leaves your lungs, shinichiro wishes he could record it. "and besides, i've taken your order more than a few times. you gave me your name, you know."

he blinks, licking his lips nervously. god, fuck little kids.

"i uh, oh yeah. forgot." he reaches up to rub the back of his neck, feeling so dumb, but also so warm and giddy because shit, you're talking to him, and you're laughing. "seishu's not my brother, by the way. he's just ... a friend."

"a friend." you repeat. shinichiro nods. "yeah."

"and ... it's your birthday?" you ask, and he pauses again, because oh god, that's right. inui's gone and told you that it's his birthday and he's trying to confess to you today.

he opens his mouth to say something, but before he can decide what he should say, the sound of motorcycle engines roaring to an exaggerated stop cuts him off.

sounds like wakasa, benkei and takeomi were finally here. and they were letting him know it.

his phone buzzes in his jeans pocket — one of them has sent him a text.

inui's eyes light up at the familiar sound, and he glances at shin for only a second, shooting a 'can i go?' look before he runs back around the corner to the front of the shop, to meet them.

shinichiro has half a mind to follow the boy.

to hurry up and run away, while he still can.

this is birthday gift enough. to see you up close and talk to you, and hear you say his name, with that pretty voice of yours.

"what was that?" you ask, stopping him in his tracks — as the honk of a motorcycle's horn cuts through your question, making you wince.

shinichiro grits his teeth, feeling like everything was going his way and also exactly against his way.

"that would be," he chuckles awkwardly, after the horn stops. "my other friends."

"you called your friends over?" you say, and though your tone is good natured, it still makes shinichiro wish the ground would swallow him whole. "i would think that's creepy, if you really weren't so cute."

wait, what?

he looks up at that, automatically hopeful. balling his hands up deeper into the pockets of his work jacket, he leans forward slightly, inquiring. "hm? say that again, will ya?"

"i think you're cute," you repeat, and when he gets an eyeful of your shy smile, he feels elated — hell, he put that smile on your face?

he had just been thinking that, apart from everything else that was wrong right now, the dreary back end of a cafe, standing alongside a grungy van full of coffee supplies, wasn't the best place to confess your feelings to someone.

but you know what, if it works, then it works.

"uh huh," he grins, feeling cockier. does he really have a shot with you? taking a breath, he steels himself. "and what're ya gonna do about that?"

"get you a drink on the house, maybe. since it's your birthday and all." you contemplate, walking over to the van and dragging out another box full of something made of glass, as the tinkling gives away. "not your friends, though."

"not my friends." he agrees immediately, coaxing another pretty giggle from you.

your voices hitches a little as you struggle with the weight of the box."o-okay, but i thought you were the one with a plan in mind."

"hm," he muses, taking a chance by stepping closer to you and taking the box from your hands. you let him do it, and he places it back on another box inside the van, before lifting both of them together.

you lead him into the storage room at the back of the building, and he puts them down where you tell him to.

brushing away your thanks, he hums, "think a date sounds good. a date with the birthday boy, yeah?"

"mhm," you look up at him, eyes glinting a little with the bright sun that falls in seams through the open door just by you. "then this date would be your very first one ever, wouldn't it?"

it takes a moment to register what you said in his head — and as soon as it does, his mouth drops open in disbelief. "what? how did you know—"

you laugh again, face flushing beautifully as you pat his arm reassuringly. "i've liked you for a while, too, you know. and i've asked your friends about you."

"fuck," shinichiro groans. "and who told you about that?"

"wakasa." you say, and he slaps a hand across his forehead. "of course it was him. bet omi told you 'bout when—"

"hey, cut them some slack." you murmur, the hand you've placed on his arm curling its fingers around his bicep, and he shivers under the jacket, a stranger to such a caress. "i'm the one that wanted to know about you."

"could've asked me." he sighs, rubbing his eyes with his index finger and thumb, before meeting your gaze again. "you're tellin' me you like me, after i gathered up all that courage to tell you i like you?"

"i was just making sure!" you protest, and he shakes a finger at you. "and ya called me a creep, for bringin' my friends over. when you already knew them!"

"hey, i said you're cute." you mumble, frowning playfully.

you're both silent for a second after that, in which shinichiro gathers his thoughts and bearings, and slowly, his heart warms and picks up pace.

god, you like him. you've accepted his offer for a date.

he's going to have to sock his friends later, for keeping this secret from him — but for now, he can't care enough about them.

maybe he'll keep the bike shop closed for today. as inui had so smartly said, it is his birthday, after all.

he follows you out to the van again, and lets you pull another carton of supplies out of it before taking it from you. "so ... this afternoon, at 2? after your shift. i'll pick you up on my motorcycle."

"sure, that sounds good." you nod, and once he's gotten the box into the store room for you, you gesture to the cafe. "now go back in, and i'll get you that free drink once i'm done here."

"let me stay with ya." he pouts, dark eyes somehow going all cute and charming when he does it. "i'll help you with this. we can go back in together."

you allow him to grab yet another box from the van, before gently lacing your hand back around his arm and pulling him down, to press a short kiss to his cheek. "so sweet to me already?"

your lips are soft, and you smell like cinnamon and matcha when he leans in close to you. up close, your eyes are even more stunning.

"of course. 'm a sweet man." he smiles, closing his eyes as you kiss his cheek once more, and he thinks that he'll never experience a better birthday than this one, ever again.

#☆༉ rekha™#☆༉ dulciloqui.#shinichiro x reader #sano shinichiro x reader #sano shinichiro fluff #shinichiro fluff #shinichiro drabbles #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #tr fluff #tr x reader #tokyo revengers headcanons #shinichiro headcanons #shinichiro x you #shinichiro x y/n #shinichiro angst #sano shinichiro angst #shinichiro sano x reader #shinichiro sano fluff

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hyocherie · 2 years

Text

drunk-dazed.

[locked up in a room, forgetting what even the sun and the breeze look and feel. with chains on his legs, and the door locked from outside. he can't leave the place, not on their watch. CCTVs all over the room, hidden for him to see. he tried to escape many times, but he's only met with punishments. his body frail and thin, his mind hazed. he's been drugged many times by takeomi, manipulated by kindness by benkei, and spoiled by waka. but even with the love, he's getting, he still feels empty]

(TW: yandere, stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, mentions of su1c!de, possible de4th, and drugs)

In a bed in the middle of the room, lies a man in his twenties, bruises all over his body, curled up in white linen sheets. The room was extravagant, as of those in hotels, or what you see in a dollhouse. Pretty red, gold, black, and white velvet clothed across the furniture, to the walls and sheets. A hanging chandelier covered with crystals lit up the room, and yet Shinichiro was still blinded by darkness.

He never saw the sun again, nor did he ever feel the natural warmth it brought. The room he was held captive in never met up to his expectations, and it never even bother to give him any comfort, or privacy. He knows he’s been watched, every move he does is being monitored. He doesn’t know where the cameras are. And if he ever finds one, the three of them would be on high alert.

He didn’t think his friends would ever act like this, let alone “kidnap” him and store him in this room. Like a bird with a bruised and broken wing in a cage.

It was suffocating, with almost no air to breathe. No windows were present, and the only escape he can have is by the door. Yet the door was locked from the outside.

(He tried to, but he was only met with punishments.)

Been drugged, beaten up, harassed and abused, he's had enough.

He wants to see Emma, Mikey, and Izana again. Even just one day would be enough.

What do they feel about having their eldest brother missing?

How is he still not dead? If there was a weapon here, he would’ve killed himself. But, knowing these three, they would have taken extra precautions “not” to have anything that can harm Shinichiro.

Wakasa made sure he was safe, Benkei made sure that he wasn’t gonna escape, and Takeomi made sure he isn’t found.

Shinichiro still thinks that they’re doing this for him and for his protection.

(Probably fed with the lies they have given him.)

“They are kind people,” Shinichiro repeats as he rocked himself under the white sheets. “They’re doing this for my own good and they’re worried about me.”

He admits Wakasa is…out of his mind sometimes, he knows he won’t have another bad reason why he’s being held captive.

Takeomi is his childhood friend, of course, he’s gonna get worried about him.

And Benkei, Shinichiro is aware he has a kind heart and he’ll do anything to protect him.

Right?

(No, absolutely not.)

And there they are, they’re home.

Shinichiro flinches at the sound of a key, the padlock being flickered open from outside. His whole body shivers, but he still sits up to greet whoever comes into his room. And there he spots a male with bi-coloured locks, tied up in a high ponytail, each strand of one colour cascading the side of his face.

Wakasa’s home. And he’s got something in his hands.

That’s nothing, Shinichiro says in his mind. Maybe Wakasa just wanted to play.

(Shinichiro forgot the difference between “play” and “abuse”.)

Shinichiro started to depend on the three. Everything from his everyday meals to even his decisions.

”ただいま。”

Shinichiro weakly smiles at the younger one, “おかえりなさい、ワカ。” (tried the new thing on gdocs)

My jaw hurts. Have I been smiling too much?

Wakasa only answered with a smile, striding his way towards where Shinichiro is, holding a black blindfold and pink handcuffs. In his pocket, you can see a white bottle, like the ones used to store the medicine. He then sat down near Shinichiro and leaned in to kiss him.

How can he not accept that small gesture of love?

“Hi, Shin-chan,” He said, almost in a whisper. “I have something for you. Be good and do as I say, alright?”

Shinichiro only nodded, allowing the lilac-eyed to cover his eyes with a thick cloth and cuff his wrists with cold metal. He then felt pain when his mouth was forcefully opened wide as if his jaw was being ripped. He then felt two pills land on his tongue.

“Swallow.”

And so he did, and he felt as if his throat was being scarred with a knife.

He started to feel dizzy, his mind blurred like smoke fogging up inside. His body began to feel weak, as he drops to the bed, unconscious.

(he’s been drugged once again.)

…

(TW: i make shinichiro suffer, abuse)

Strange. Takeomi and Benkei haven’t been home. Shinichiro knows that they should be home by six, but it’s already nine in the evening and they’re nowhere to be seen. Wakasa also left, saying that he’ll pick up the two from work.

Shinichiro braced himself as he stepped out of the room, slowly walking to avoid any noise.

Wakasa forgot to lock the door when he left, and that wasn’t anything normal. But, Shinichiro took this chance.

To finally escape. He wouldn’t call this hell though, the three were treating him so well that he doesn’t want to leave.

The only reason why he wants to escape is because of his siblings. Meeting or talking to them over the phone isn’t even allowed.

There’s this chill that isn’t leaving Shinichiro’s body, and the anxiety that maybe he’ll get caught.

(He got caught and what happened after wasn’t pleasant. Yet, he still turned a blind eye at that.)

Wearing a black oversized hoodie with loose jeans and a mask, he slowly walked through the halls, hoping not to make any sound. His white sneakers stomped by the wooden floors, Shinichiro’s shoulders perked up and hands buried deep in his pockets. The hood was on his head, his bangs then covering half of his eyes.

Mikey, Emma, and Izana, He said in his mind. Please wait for me.

He then finally reached the entrance of the house, strange how they aren’t locked too. He then went forward, taking a deep breath before pushing the heavy doors open.

The cold wind of an autumn night brushed Shinichiro’s face, gently touching the scar and bruise on his face. This is the first time again that Shinichiro ever saw the night sky, or even come outside. It reminded him of late-night strolls with the advice given to Mikey, or the late-night celebrations after the winning of BD. Such bittersweet memories he missed.

Yet, something’s not right. His stomach is churning and his guts are telling him to come back inside. This is his only chance, though. And he’ll take this opportunity to see his siblings once again.

(And at least, reunite Izana and Mikey.)

He stepped down the stairs and stopped, looking at the sky. The moon was full, and that’s what Shinichiro is worried about.

Every time he sees a full moon, something bad is bound to happen.

(His life-and-death situation at the shop happened under a full moon.)

He began walking his way towards the gates, seeing it was a little open. And that small opening allows him to go outside. When he reached those gates, he stared at them for some time. Large and tall, carved thorned roses and dragons were painted in white.

This is it.

But as Shinichiro was about to leave the gate, a loaded gun was heard behind him.

He didn’t want to turn around, and his mind was shouting at him to run. But he only stopped when he heard a low familiar voice speak behind him.

He can also feel the presence of two more people.

“Shinichiro. Turn around or I’m gonna shoot you.”

He then turned around, seeing Benkei pointing a gun at him, with Takeomi and Wakasa beside him. Takeomi had a handkerchief in his hand (and Shinichiro thinks there is a substance there that’ll make him fall asleep) and Wakasa with a whip (what is he even gonna do with that?)

Shinichiro gulped with a scared smile curled up at the sides of his lips, “I-it’s not w-what yo-you think i-it is…”

“Yes, we do,” Takeomi stepped closer. “You know you were escaping.”

Shinichiro wanted to speak, but his words are stuck hanging in his open mouth, his throat as if being squeezed tight.

Within a minute, Takeomi was behind him, as he wrapped his arm around Shinichiro’s neck and forcefully pushed the blue handkerchief on the ravenette’s face. Benkei put the gun down while Wakasa took thick chains out of his coat jacket.

Shinichiro wasn’t still used to the haze this drug gave, and his body started to lose strength. His eyes then fluttered close, his body getting heavy because of the lack of support.

Wakasa approached the two and tied Shinichiro’s wrists with the cold chains. Benkei then carried him under his armpits and knees and brought him inside, with the rest trailing from behind.

And what they didn’t notice is that Seishu saw everything. In shock, he immediately called Mikey to inform him about the situation.

“Hello?”

“H-he’s-”

“Inui? What’s going on?”

“He’s alive. A-and, Omi, Waka, and Benkei kidnapped him.”

Mikey’s eyes widen in shock, almost dropping the phone, “...what?”

The end.

[property of seiji, @hyocherie and @inc0rrect1stgenblackdragons]

#hyocherie #tokyo revengers #sano shinichiro #imaushi wakasa #inc0rrect1stgenblackdragons #shinwaka #wakashin #arashi keizo #akashi takeomi #shinomi #omishin #benshin #shinben #shinichiro x benkei #shinichiro x wakasa #shinichiro x takeomi #more of shinwaka because they're my otp?

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