#Tokyo Revengers fluff

[kissofrindou]

crazy!

where rindou thinks hes going crazy (falling in love with you)

rindou x reader: fluff, tiny bit angst (insecurity), likes & reblogs are appreciated!

rindou thinks he might be genuinely going crazy.

he’s met you when you were both little kids, viewing as almost an extension to his life. you and him always seemed to orbit around his universe no matter what even when the world seemingly attempts the cut the red (platonic, he emphasises himself) thread on yours and his’ pinky - from when he got arrested for the first time when he was just 11 and yet you were right outside the stupid reformed school he was placed into the day he got out miraculously (he almost cried that day, but he would rather die than admit it verbally after all), or when you two had your first fight when he got mad you didn’t like his first mix he made, but he’s sure this time his luck is running out.

perhaps he’s been cursed by a rival gang, right that’s the logical reason - anything to ignore all the obvious signs that he knows, by heart, from all the stupid romance manga you used to make him buy and read with you as a little kid at the back of the class. wildly thumping heart that burns and tingles when he looks at you, red ears and cheeks that only appears otherwise from (rare) injuries he gets whenever him and ran needs to fight another overly-arrogant roppongiers, and a strange stuttering of words that fit more in his club remixes than an regular conversation with you on your bed that feels oh too intimidating now.

perhaps, he’s growing up too - no longer a naive little kid who looked at you as just a mere playground friend, no longer looking up at you attempting to make a pleading face for you to give up your candies to him for him to enjoy, no longer the same kid who hid the “embarrassing” fact that he was going for gymnastic and ballet classes that were given for free for lower-income students and instead lied that he was simply going home only to meet you at the said class. rindou, for the first time in his life, in your room like all the years back then as a little kid in your bedroom, looks at you clearly through his glasses as though it has been cleaned for the first time in years — your eyes that practically sparkle with the light reflecting in your eyes like crystals, your lips that he has never realised has always been the same shade of pink that paints with streaks on his burning cheeks, your hair that smell the same with the same kiddish scent that he associates with just you alone of pure sugar.

”rin… you’re awfully quiet and i know youre most definitely not actually doing your work either���”

i’m thinking about you. no, that’s too straightforward, too raw — something rindou has never been: running away as far as possible, dancing around his words, words that has always hid his realest self and feeling. nothing - that’s a lie, and he knows you’ll call him out: it has always been like this: you digging his problems out like he’s one of your boring assignments or seashells from the beach, always you. perhaps, its the lingering care, lingering love that he breathes from you: if its love, it has to be you because you were the first real love in his life with his absent parents and conscending looks from those other rich roppongi kids: there was you, plopping right beside him in the playground at the dismay of your other friends that are practically shell-shocked.

and there he goes on a tangent: he’s always in his own mind — a statement you tell him oh so often. but he argues, in his own head, that its you that on his mind all the time recently.

when he goes home, he’ll go to his room: one that is filled with physical memories of you and him: the box of origami butterflies and birds you made for him counting down the days he will be out of juvie, the polaroids kept in a stack of you and him smiling so brightly that it could rival the sun itself he’s sure at the back of the class in yours and his stuffy uniform he loathes and loves, the candy packets he bought for you to pass to you in class to keep you satisated and that grin on your face as the sweet burst into your mouth: he wants to selfishly be that candy too sometimes, caramel and butterscotch, even if he knows he’s not sweet in the slightest.

”mhm… just thinking again.” he lets out a uncommitable hum, eyes finally drifting to yours.

you don’t look convinced, its cute — your furrowed brows, your deadpan look plastered on your face almost immediately as though you know him inside and out (you do, he believes wholeheartedly like a little kid), your arms crosssed now, as you pout at him, practically melting away the metaphorical walls that he was just merely setting up for the battle and war of his feelings for you.

youre impossible, he decides, youre the one crazy, not him. definitely not him. even as the words burst of his mouth — like that candy youre chewing on, your face scrunching up at the burst of flavour.

”i really like you, you know?”

yup, never mind, he thinks. he’s definitely the insane one here.

yet, rindou’s completely paralysed, like those gang members under his merciless grip and twists. his eyes stare and bore into yours, trying to read yours eyes: light dancing and twisting in yours, no longer a whole crystal as it was previously, you have stopped chewing that stupid candy he bought you as a deal to help him study (cheat). he doesn’t know how or what to feel.

that expression is no stranger to him of course: he’s seen on the boring inmates when he reveals his age (just turned thirteen) in that stuck up juvie, he’s seen it on no-good teachers whenever he does score well for exams and competitions that he wishes to savour and tastes even more as the fire burns in his chest, he’s seen it on those boring and annoying gang members when his wrist flexes and he twists and pulls into the very beings’ bones and muscles from the skin as their scream fill his ears that he thinks would suit the next mix he wants to do.

but when its with you, he hates it.

change is inevitable of course, he knows. he knows: when his parents slowly stopped coming home and he would have to accept he would be stuck with his annoying older brother for the rest of his life (he doesn’t mind this now of course). he knows: when his friends he worked oh so hard to make avoid and ignore him when he comes back from juvie, his name now no longer uttered with mockery and with that rare friendly hint but completely of fear and straight voice that he tastes bile in his mouth. he knows: when his favourite noodle shop that tastes of home and nostalgia closed down finally (letting go of your past self is always the hardest), tears gone unnoticed in the pouring rain so strategically dripping against the wet face and hair.

and rindou thinks, no, believes he’ll genuinely go crazy if you and him changes: if you stop orbiting around him that he’s taken for granted all these years: your warmth, your familiarity and your love.

”… i like you too, rindou.”

and maybe he’s not as crazy as he thought: your eyes shining in a crystal-like structure, as though capturing the blue highlights that paints on his hair into a diamond like gem, your mouth melting into a grin that he swears practically melts him inside and out, your hands that feel so warm against his colder hands against the even colder room and world.

love. love isnt crazy, he thinks — no he admits to his stubborn self, that it tastes sugary sweet: when your lips melts against his, and you taste of sugar: sweeter than pure sugar, alchohol, and wear tastes.

[l4dy-0ff]

Imagine Sanzu Haruchiyo being the best father with his children. <3

He stopped doing drugs when you were pregnant, and all the time of the pregnancy, he was by your side, and he was doing anything in his power to help you !

When you finally popped out your beautiful children, he cried, happy to have children with you, his precious wife. <3

How would your children look like ? First, I think you would have two children, then, think the both of them would have Sanzu's pretty blue eyes (cause, who wouldn't want his children to have his beautiful eyes ???) One of them would have his long eyelashes and his pretty pink hair, but the other would have your [hair color] perfect hair, the both of them would have your [hair type], in the end they would both look like a mix of you and Sanzu :)

If you have children, Sanzu would treat them like his most beautiful and perfect pearls, he doesn't want them to have a childhood like him so he would do his best to be always here for them.

Sanzu would make them learn self-defence, he doesn't want his children to get hurt by others !

100% would support them to create a gang just like Tokyo Manji Gang, but without the part where they all become emo, lol.

Speaking of Toman, they would be the best uncles for your children and Emma, Hinata, Yuzuha, and Senju, the best aunts. <3

Everyday is a fun day with them !

In the end, even if our drug addict isn't the most perfect husband or father, he would be one of the best, in my opinion.

That's all for Sanzu Haruchiyo, the best father. <3

[emmyrosee]

Imagine, while he’s putting on his shirt, the one you love so much, you quickly dart over to him and wrap your arms around his waist, and nuzzle into his chest. He tenses, keeps his arms up, but looks down at you through his looped arms.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” you mewl, relishing in the smell of his cologne. “I love this shirt…”

“You should love the man in the shirt,” he corrects, trying to nudge you off of his body. “Can we wrap this up? My arms are stuck-“

“Mmmno.”

“Haa?”

“No,” you repeat, hugging him tighter and closing your eyes, letting the warmth of his body mingle with yours. Your torsos press close against each other, and you purr at the safe feeling. “Don’t want to get up yet. I want to keep hugging you.”

“Can’t you hug me after my shirt is on?”

“It’s not the same,” you correct. “You’re warm.”

“I’ll be warm with the shirt on- I promise.” He chuckles and writhes slightly to try and shake you off, to no avail, your body merely swaying with his, and a stubborn giggle slipping out. “You’re being a brat, you know?”

“Im your brat though,” you say, resting your eyes, only to melt as his entangled arms lower to wrap around you, tugging you close. Your head gets forced closer to him due to the fabric, but you certainly aren’t going to complain. Your fingers run gently over the dimples in his lower back, and you feel him shiver slightly from the gentle touch, the tender skin there not used to the affection. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, nosing at your scalp gently before keeping still.

Beats of time pass, and while you know you should let him continue to get dressed, you can’t bring yourself to get up and let him, not wanting the most blissful part of your day end so soon.

And hey- if he really wanted you off, you know he’d make it happen.

He’s just as much of a sucker as you are.

——

hq: kageyama, tsukishima, kuroo, kenma, hanamaki, IWAIZUMI, matsukawa, akaashi, SEMI, ushijima, KITA, SUNA, atsumu, OSAMU, ARAN, KIYOOMI

bnha: kirishima, sero, shinsou, BAKUGOU, aizawa, HAWKS, DABI

jjk: megumi, TOJI, geto, sukuna hehehehe, SHIU

tr: mikey, DRAKEN, BAJI

+ ur faves 🫶🏻

[yanyandam]

(I just started following you and LOVE your work so far and… AHHH ITS AMAZING *chefs kiss*)

I was wondering if i could make a request JUST PURE FLUFF of a fic with Sanzu but the happy ending Sanzu u know how in the happy ending he becomes a pro YouTube with his sister?? Well do u think you could do Sanzu x painter reader with a big artistic mind??? Like where shes pregnant with his kid and having all these emotions making her artistic mind explode and sanzu is just posting lives/videos/pics reading out loud all the positive comments his fans are saying about her art though her 9 months pregnancy. Then going to a Timeskip where there 5-10 years old son/daughter (your pick) finds the old paintings there mom did while pregnant with them and asks sanzu about it to which he shows all the lives/videos/pics of reader painting and when pregnant and when reader comes backs from whatever she was doing she’s gets surprised to see their kid and sanzu painting together on a livestream

(AHHH sorry that’s its long and probably confusing you don’t have to do it if u don’t want to but it would be nice to see what you do with this NO PRESSURE PLEASE DONT FEEL LIKE YOU HAVE TO DO IT again LOVE your work <3)

YOOO omg this was so detailed I had to recheck stuff just to be sure I didn't misunderstand anything. HERE. It isn't very long but I hope you like it looove. LOVE YAA thanks for the support

SANZU X PAINTER!FEM!READER

Sanzu met her at school.

He barely showed up to class, maybe once a month, tops, just enough to keep the school off his back and say he “tried.” Just enough so the year wouldn’t be a total loss. Even he knew you had to fake it a little to keep the system from kicking you out too fast. Unlucky for him, they sat him next to the weird girl. The one who looked like she was in love with her pencils. Just her damn pencils. She was hunched over the desk like it was her altar, scribbling away while the math teacher's droning voice echoed through the room like static.

Haruchiyo stared at her sideways. She didn’t look up once. The table beneath her arms was covered in marks, doodles, notes written in tiny, loopy handwriting. All of it cluttered the desk like graffiti. It made his skin crawl. He hated mess. He really hated it when people treated trash like art. Faking interest in the lesson for a second, he clicked his tongue, leaned in a bit, and growled, “The fuck are you doing? Stop drawing on the table. That shit’s disgusting.”

She didn’t even flinch. Just kept sketching calmly, like his voice was background noise. And then, without looking at him: “Is it ugly?”

He blinked. “What?” She glanced at him for the first time. Her eyes were strange. Soft, but unreadable. Like foggy glass. “If it’s beautiful, it decorates. If it’s ugly, it dirties. So?” she asked, voice steady. “Which is it?”

Sanzu frowned, confused and irritated. “What the hell kind of logic is that?” She gave a little shrug, barely a movement. Like she didn’t care about his answer. He reached out and snatched the pencil from her hand with a swift motion, sharp like a slap. “Stop,” he snapped, voice low and venom-laced. “I fucking hate filthy shit.”

She didn’t fight back. Her hand just hovered mid-air for a second before resting flat on the desk again. She didn’t even look mad. No glare. No offense taken. “You’re not gonna grab it back?” he muttered, annoyed by her indifference.

“You’re not gonna give it back,” she replied. And finally, she looked at him, really looked. Not with fear. Not with challenge. Just this weird, distant calm like she was watching him from somewhere far away, even though they were just inches apart. “You don’t like dirty things,” she said quietly.

“No shit.”

“What’s your name?” she asked.

He narrowed his eyes. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” she answered simply. “Just wondering what name I’ll write when I draw”

“You don’t need to know it,” he muttered.

She nodded.

—

“What the fuck is that?” he muttered, barely glancing at it. Sanzu sat on the cracked cement bench like it had insulted him. That’s when she walked up to him, again. He clocked her in his periphery, sketchbook clutched in her hand like it was sacred scripture. Without a word, she stood in front of him and held out a folded sheet.

“You,” she answered, plain as day.

His brows pinched together as he snatched the paper from her hand, unfolding it with the delicacy of a guy who never touched anything carefully. The drawing stared back at him: himself, sitting right where he was now, on that same busted bench. It was raw, a little messy, but there was something alive in the lines. Almost too alive. He blinked. “Yeah, I noticed it’s me. It’s also... not bad. But still, what the fuck.”

She tilted her head slightly. “I hope to revive some form of color in the depths of your dull eyes.”

He stared at her. “Stop speaking gibberish.”

She didn’t flinch. Instead, she plopped herself down beside him, close enough that their shoulders almost brushed. For a second, neither of them spoke. Just the quiet hum of distant chatter and the occasional bird screaming like it wanted to join a gang. Then she looked at him, chin resting lightly in her hand. “Don’t you ever want to trade your gloomy life for something a little less... serious?”

His eyes narrowed. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You always look mad. Even when you’re with your weird friend who looks like a vampire.”

“Wait—Baji? Are you spying on me?”

“A little,” she said, deadpan. “But it was unintentional. A coincidence.”

“That’s creepy.”

“Maybe. But so are you.”

Sanzu paused, gave her a sideways glance, then snorted. It wasn’t a laugh, but it was close enough to make her smile. “You’re fucking strange,” he muttered.

“Takes one to know one.”

Another beat passed. He looked down at the drawing again. It really was him, except maybe not the version he saw in the mirror. There was a softness in the sketch, tucked behind the sharp angles and tense posture. It made him uncomfortable. Like she saw something he didn’t want her to. “You seriously draw people all the time?”

“Not always. Just when something about them gets stuck in my head.”

Sanzu raised a brow. “So I’m stuck in your head now?”

She turned her eyes toward the sky. “A little. But it was unintentional. A coincidence.”

He huffed. But he didn’t hand the drawing back. He folded it neatly instead, stuffing it into the inside pocket of his jacket. A few kids walked by in the distance, laughing way too loud. The bell rang faintly from the building behind them. Sanzu didn’t move. Neither did she. “You should stop watching me,” he said finally, voice quieter.

“I probably won’t.” He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back against the bench like the world was too much to carry today. She pulled a small pencil from behind her ear and scribbled something tiny in her sketchbook. He didn’t ask what. He didn’t want to know. He just let her stay there, quietly, drawing lines around the edges of a kid with cracked knuckles and a thousand things he couldn’t name sitting in his chest.

“Here. My number.” She had actually cribbled her number with flowers around it.

Sanzu smiled.

Ever since that bench moment, something shifted. They didn’t plan to see each other again, but somehow it kept happening. Her sketchbook open while he laid back on the grass, eyes closed but fully listening. Sometimes they didn’t even talk, just existed near each other, comfortable in the quiet. Sanzu wasn’t the type to let people in, not even halfway, but she slipped through the cracks like sunlight through blinds. He didn't really hate it. But kind of.

He hated the way her presence made the silence less heavy. How she called out his bullshit without flinching. How she once sketched Mikey like it was nothing and handed it to him saying, “He looks like he bites people for fun,” and Sanzu laughed, genuinely did. How she remembered his favorite brand of cheesecakes and once stole a pack for him like it was an art form.

He caught feelings.

It crept up on him like a bad habit. One second he was making fun of the way she tied her shoelaces, the next he was staring at her lips mid-sentence, wondering what they’d taste like. Sanzu didn’t know how to confess. He’d never done that shit before. He didn’t even know if she liked anyone at all. But his dumbass heart wouldn’t shut up, so he did the only thing that came to mind.

He drew her.

Terribly.

He used a blue pen he found in his jacket pocket and one of those lined notebook pages that were already kinda crumpled. The result looked like a cross between a haunted doll and a criminal sketch, but he was proud of it. Sort of. So he waited after class one day, slipping the paper onto her desk like it was evidence of a crime. She raised an eyebrow when she saw it. “What’s this?”

He shrugged, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. “You draw me all the time. Fair’s fair.”

She unfolded the paper slowly, curiosity in her eyes… and then she burst out laughing. Like, really laughing. Ugly, loud, head-thrown-back kind of laughter. “What the hell is this?! You made me look like I survived a house fire!”

Sanzu scowled, yanking the paper back. “It’s abstract, alright?! It’s art.”

She was still laughing, eyes glistening, tears threatening to fall. “This is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s beautiful.”

He looked at her for a second, how happy she looked, how effortlessly she took the moment and turned it into something soft, and it stung in a weird, addictive way. “I like you,” he mumbled.

She blinked, catching her breath. “Because I laughed at your drawing?”

“No,” he said, shoving the paper back toward her. “Because you make me feel like I can breathe.” That shut her up. But the smile stayed.

—

Years later, no one could’ve guessed that the boy who used to barely talk, always looking like he had his two feet in apathy, would become a YouTuber. And not just any YouTuber. Sanzu & Senju, the chaotic sibling duo that somehow managed to rack up millions of views. Their content was just so entertaining and people loved them (not me though I clicked on the dislike button every time). Senju was the energetic heart of it. Sanzu was the wild card, sarcastic and oddly charming, with a stoic façade that always looked a little dangerous. And Takeomi was their not-so-known manager!

Their fans didn’t know much about his personal life. That was the way he liked it. Especially when it came to her.

She had become something of a legend in her own right: a professional painter, a digital artist, a graphist with a cult following in the design world. She never posted her face. Only her work. Abstract colors, twisted realism, raw emotion on digital canvases. She was the kind of artist that made people feel things.

And yeah, they were together.

Had been for a while, actually. Since those high school days when she mocked his terrible drawing and then cried laughing when he confessed with it. But she was never in the videos. Not once. No background glimpse, no tagged hand on Instagram, no anonymous voice off-camera.

Not because he was ashamed. Far from it. Sanzu just didn’t want to share her with the world.

She was his peace. His color. His most private form of joy in a life that had been built too publicly. Letting the internet chew on her identity felt like betrayal. Still, that didn’t stop her from helping him every step of the way. When the “Draw My Life” trend exploded in 2015, Senju begged him to do one. Sanzu wasn’t the type to get sentimental, but she insisted. And when he agreed, it was her who stayed up with him all night in their cramped apartment, sketching frames on the whiteboard, guiding his story out of him with soft encouragements and sharp jokes.

“Damn,” he muttered, watching her hand glide across the board, “it’s weird seeing my life come out in your lines.”

She paused, looked up. “Is that your poetic way of saying you’re traumatized?”

“Probably.”

That video went viral.

Fans loved the dark humor, the raw honesty. The illustrations, though: those were what stuck. “Who did the art?” people commented. “Those sketches hit hard.” Sanzu never answered. He just pinned a cryptic heart emoji and let it be. Over time, she became the silent architect of his aesthetic. His thumbnails, his merch, his channel banner, all her. And when he hit 1 million subscribers, she was the one holding the camera as he popped cheap champagne on their rooftop, laughing like a man who never thought he’d get here.

Only Senju knew the full picture. How much she meant to him. How Sanzu, the one who could barely say “I love you” without cursing in the middle of it, would sometimes sit in silence just watching her paint like it was his favorite show.

Sometimes she joked, “You’re just with me ‘cause I have better linework than you.”

And he’d reply, “I’m with you ‘cause you turned my life into art.”

It was fun, how the quietest guy on the planet had the quietest love story. But that’s the way Haru liked it. Because some things, the best things, didn’t belong to the internet. They belonged to late nights, shared playlists, ink-stained fingers, and stolen kisses between video takes.

They belonged to her.

She told him on a Tuesday. Nothing special about it, just one of those quiet, overcast mornings when the city felt a little too still. He was in the kitchen, arguing with the toaster. "Stupid piece of—" he was mid-slam when she walked in, barefoot, hair messy, holding a tiny white stick like it was a weapon of divine justice.

“I’m pregnant,” she said, blunt as ever.

He turned slowly. “…Sorry?”

She showed him the test, eyes wide but unreadable. “Two of them. Positive.”

Sanzu stared. He blinked once. Twice. Then placed the burnt toast on the counter with slow, almost religious precision. “…You sure it’s not one of those scam sticks?”

“I did two. And I feel like vomiting every five seconds.”

He stared a little longer, jaw tightening like his brain was buffering. “Wait, like… actually pregnant?”

“Yeah…?”

“Fuck.” Yeah that’s lowkey what you two did I guess? And then he sat down. Like, collapsed. Legs gave up, heart hammering in his chest. “I’m gonna die.”

“You’re not,” she said, walking over, calm and weirdly serene.

“I can’t be a dad. I don’t even water the houseplants.”

“We don’t have houseplants.”

“Exactly!”

But somehow, between the panic and the jokes and the sudden rush of weirdly tender silence, Haruchiyo didn’t run. He placed a hand on her stomach, even though there was nothing to see yet. Just warmth. Just the beginning of something terrifyingly huge.

“Shit,” he whispered. “I’m a dad.”

By month two, her hormones had turned her into a full-blown creative hurricane.

She painted like she was possessed: morning, noon, and three a.m. With charcoal-stained cheeks and wild eyes, she'd wake up from a dream and immediately sketch it out. Canvases piled up in the living room. The dining table was lost to acrylics and turpentine. Their walls looked like a gallery curated by Van Gogh on drugs.

He supported it the only way he knew how: chaotically, loudly, and publicly. At the end of every new video, right after Senju’s screaming outro, Sanzu added his own personal “ad segment.” “Before you click off—yo, check this out,” he’d hold up one of her pieces like a proud toddler with a macaroni sculpture. “This one’s called…uh…something. It’s wild. It made me cry. No cap.” People loved it.

What started as chaotic plugs turned into lowkey poetry.

“This one? Bro. She painted this after a nightmare. Said she dreamed the baby had wings. Look at the lines, man. That’s not normal talent.” His eyes would soften. Just a second too long. Just enough for people to start noticing.

@DJBigdaddyRin: “Wait, does Sanzu know this artist?”

@BajiKingTkyo76: “Why’s he always so emotional when he talks about her work?”

And finally, after three months of hinting and hiding and teasing. He cracked. It was in the middle of a video. A Q&A with Senju. Someone had asked, “What’s your favorite artist?”

Sanzu smirked. “Easy.”

Senju raised a brow. “Please don’t say Banksy just to piss people off.”

“Nah,” he said, leaning into the camera. “My favorite artist is the one who’s been painting her soul out in our living room. Who doesn’t sleep, eats pickles with whipped cream now, and…oh yeah, she’s pregnant with my kid.”

Senju’s jaw dropped. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious.” He pulled out a painting. “This one’s called ‘Heartbeat.’ It’s our baby’s first portrait.” The internet exploded. Fan pages lost it. The comment section turned into a war zone of congratulations, shock, and genuine awe. Haru felt light.

Because finally, the world saw her the way he did: brilliant, strange, burning with color. Not just the mystery artist. But his artist. And soon, the mother of his child.

For the full nine months, her paintings became the internet’s favorite miracle. No drama. No chaos. No exposés or scandals, just soft, surreal colors and honest brushstrokes that somehow resonated with everyone. People said her work felt like dreams they forgot they had, like lullabies whispered from the belly of the universe.

Every week, Sanzu would post a new one.

“This one’s called ‘Womb’s Eclipse.’ Sounds metal, right? It’s actually… emotional as shit. I almost cried again…”

Sometimes the pieces would sell before he even hit ‘post.’ Other times, he didn’t want to sell them at all. “This one’s for the baby’s room,” he’d mutter, already picking out a frame. Their walls were lined with that pregnancy, swirls of love, fear, craving.. And after their daughter was born, the momentum slowed—but the reverence didn’t. Her paintings stayed online, immortalized. People still messaged about them, tagged her in recreations, tattooed fragments on their skin.

They had made a small, strange legend out of that season of their lives.

—

Years passed.

Their daughter turned seven in the middle of spring, cherry blossoms half-dying on the sidewalks, breeze still sharp enough to cut. She had her mother��s eyes, Sanzu’s temper, and an obsession with painting that only made sense once you knew who her parents were. That afternoon, she tugged on his sleeve while he was editing a video.

“Papa.”

“What?”

“I wanna paint.”

He blinked. “What, like right now?”

She nodded. “Right now right now.”

He grinned, already shutting the laptop. “Say less.”

They dusted off the old supplies. Everything still smelled like turpentine and nostalgia. Sanzu laid out a drop cloth, filled jars with cloudy water, and pulled out a couple of the preserved canvases from The Pregnancy Era. “These,” he told her, tapping the edges, “were painted when you were in mama’s belly.” She looked up at him, blinking. “Inside?”

“Like, swimming around. Kicking her kidneys.”

“That’s weird.”

“Yeah. And beautiful. And painful. You were art even back then.” He wasn’t expecting the wave of warmth that hit him, seeing her crouch over the paints like her mom did, tilting her head, chewing on her tongue in thought. It hit him so hard, he opened his stream setup and pressed “Go Live.” No filter. No warning.

Just a raw shot of Sanzu and his daughter surrounded by paint and sun, laughing, talking over each other, blending colors without rules. Viewers flooded in immediately.

@IzanaTenjikuFund: “Shit I misclicked”

@HotRacerMikey: “She looks like both of them!”

@ManaMtsyaQueen: “THE LEGACY IS REAL”

They painted whatever came to mind. A castle. A tiger. A portrait of Baji with hearts around his head (“He’s funny,” she said. “He’s scary,” Sanzu corrected). For an hour, it was just father and daughter building color into the quiet. And then, click.

The front door opened.

She walked in, keys jingling in her hand, grocery bag slung on her wrist.

“I’m ho—” she paused in the doorway.

Paint. Everywhere. Her husband and daughter covered in streaks of blue and pink. Two canvases in progress. A livestream active. A thousand people watching.

“…You went live?”

Sanzu looked up at her like a guilty kid. “Uhhh. Yeah. Kind of?”

Their daughter waved a brush. “Mama, look! We’re painting me.”

She dropped the bag on the counter and walked over, eyes scanning the chaos. The familiar smells, the messy brushes, the wall of sunlight across the table, it all came back. Like those nine months never ended. Sanzu handed her a brush.

“C’mon,” he said. “We’re missing your color.”

And just like that, she joined them. One family, three artists, painting a new memory together, on canvas, on camera, on the walls of every person who ever watched them become more than just creators.

They became home.

[prettytanii]

It was a gorgeously sunny day. You had not too long ago moved to Tokyo—a complete foreigner with little to no idea how things worked around these areas. For example, traditional temples and just... more things that a foreigner wouldn’t know right off the bat.

Ever since traveling here with your adoptive family, it had been rough to get business. After opening up a bakery, things weren’t much better. The bakery was in a moderately sketchy area, which scared you more than you were willing to admit. The place was getting some attention, but only because of how affordable it was.

But one guy seemed to think otherwise—someone who was supposedly in a gang called Valhalla. You paid him no mind at first, considering he was well-behaved enough, at least to you. Even if you were sketchy about him at first, he turned out to be a really loyal customer, and honestly, that was all that really mattered to you.

Sure, he didn’t look the most appealing in his Valhalla uniform, but really, it wasn’t anything that stuck in your mind for long. After all, you were busy making pastries, cakes, and all sorts of treats. Your family meant a lot to you—even if they weren’t biological—and you truly cherished them enough to work hard for them.

One thing Kazutora had done, even when there was no need, was tell his gang members to visit the bakery sometime. He said the pastries were amazing, especially the cakes. This cycle went on for a long time, and the signs that he had a thing for you got more and more obvious.

But then, something went terribly wrong during one of his visits to the bakery.

He practically nearly was jumped right inside the bakery. But him being him, he didn’t let it slide. No way. Not at a bakery he silently adored. He simply couldn’t stand the idea of this place getting wrecked just because a rival thought it was a good idea to ambush him—especially in such an underrated spot.

The way he reacted was... violent? It surprised you. You knew quite a few people in the bakery were shocked too, but it was impressive, nonetheless. Even if he wasn’t purposely showing off, it was still a nightmare for you. You ran out from behind the counter toward the door, trying to break it up—to no avail.

Then one of the guys—one of the ambushers—snapped and spat, “Mind your fucking business, bitch.”

It had a lot of bite to it. More than anything, it had a lot of disrespect in it—especially toward the one person Kazutora had respect for. It made him physically recoil for a second. Then, without another word, he got himself off the ground and yanked the two guys straight out the door with a loud thud.

He looked at you as if to say “sorry” without actually saying it, before leaving the bakery for a moment.

Then came the sound of screaming outside—as if bones were being broken.

Side note : there's just something about me making my kazu mini fics end in violence😭

@kazutora-kurokawa @arlerts-angel @darkstarlight82 @i-literally-cant-with-this @prncessrindou @bleach-your-panties

[chalkscene]

tokyo revengers ⇢ YOU’RE TOO DRUNK TO RECOGNIZE YOUR BOYFRIEND

ft. manjiro “mikey” sano, ken “draken” ryuguji, keisuke baji, takashi mitsuya, rindou haitani, ran haitani & shuji hanma

warnings: alcohol and a very hammered reader. the boys are more responsible than you <3

this is one of the rare occurrences wherein MIKEY actually shares his food. when you’ve finally given up on fighting him for the last bottle of alcohol, you start whining about your sudden hunger so he slides his plate of nachos over to you. he watches you eye it for a second before you drag your gaze up to him. “i have a boyfriend you know?” you tell him, your attempt to be menacing coming out pathetically as the attitude dripping from your tone is dampened by your slurred speech. mikey doesn’t need the club to be well lit. the strobe lights already illuminate your face enough for him to get a clear view of your glassy eyes and flushed cheeks. “i know,” he confirms with a tinge of exasperation, “because it’s me. mikey. your boyfriend.” he emphasizes his last words, his last effort to knock some sense into you but you only let out a cackle which catches him off guard. “nice try but mikey never shares his food.”

“that’s enough.” DRAKEN snatches the last of your many drinks for the night before you can gulp it down. being the perceptive boyfriend he is, he can already hear the complaint that’s about to slip from your tongue so he’s quick to pull you by the wrist, up from your seat and out the door. “where are you taking me?” you ask as clearly as your drunken state can let you—not so much but enough for your boyfriend to understand. “home.” at his curt reply, you yank your hand from his grip with a strength that startles even toman’s former vice president. “what the hell are you doing?” draken hisses lest you make a scene in public. “i’m calling my boyfriend,” you warn him, “bet he can kick your ass.” “yeah? i’d like to see him try.” he dismisses your empty threat, reaching for you once more to guide you to the exit but upon hearing a few whispers from prying strangers who are clearly getting the wrong idea, he stops in his tracks and turns to no one in particular, no longer caring about whatever commotion he may cause as his voice booms over the loud music: “i’m the boyfriend!”

“let me go!” you relentlessly thrash around, yelling out threats of calling your boyfriend, while BAJI—the boyfriend in question—pulls you into an empty alleyway to avoid any possible public humiliation for the both of you. “fuck,” he huffs out a breath, “when did you get this strong?” some time in the night, he’s tuned you out telling him off, on a sole mission to stop you from drinking more than you already have. and he’s relieved he managed to get you out of the bar—that is until he hears a weird noise coming from you. “wh-” baji doesn’t get the chance to utter a single word as you begin to throw up. in a panic, he hastily puts your hair up with his spare tie before rubbing soothing circles on your back. your hair looks real messy, he notes, but that’s the least of his worries. “you feeling better?” he checks on you after a while, only to be met by more retching, making him grumble to himself, “and i get an earful when i drink too much.”

MITSUYA is helping you get on your feet—sweet boyfriend he is—but as soon as you find your footing, you give him a hefty shove. “i have a boyfriend, jackass!” you seethe, too drunk to recognize him, and all he can do is sigh as he regains his balance. “yes. me.” something clicks in your brain at his response and you squint your eyes to get a better look at him. “takashi?” “hi, love.” and just like that, you perk up, your mouth stretching into a wide grin. “taka,” you squeal, excitement coursing through your veins when you recognize your boyfriend, “hiiiii~” he laughs at the shift in your tone and takes the opportunity to slide an arm around your waist once more. “let’s get you home okay?” “mhm.” you wrap your arms around him and he lifts you with ease. mitsuya assumes you’re fast asleep until a few minutes later, you mumble something against his skin, “someone tried to flirt with me but i said no.” a chuckle bubbles past his lips as he adjusts his hold on you. “really?” “mhm,” you nod into his neck as you snuggle closer, “i only love you.” “i love you more.” “love you most,” you reply before soft snores fall from your lips and your breathing evens out.

you’re rambling about RINDOU to rindou himself, going on and on about the reasons that made you fall in love with him. and while you’re occasionally interrupted by your hiccups, he patiently listens to your every word then he hears a “but.” the ways you describe him next are less flattering, less romantic—how he tries so hard to act indifferent to your cooing as if the tips of his ears don’t instantly turn red. or how he has a permanent scowl etched on his face. and other things you already tell him even when you’re sober. “he’s really lucky he doesn’t have any wrinkles yet,” you add with a giggle. “you’re really annoying when you’re drunk, you know that?” rindou deadpans. despite the lack of lighting in the club, he doesn’t miss the shock washing over you, your eyes getting mistier by the second. “what?” your voice comes out shaky and your bottom lip starts to wobble, making rindou release another groan. “for fuck’s sake.”

in spite of your insistence to stay at the club, RAN easily managed to drag you to his car. this isn’t his first rodeo. as an older brother, he has had to deal with rindou when he was blackout drunk. “where are we going?” you mumble as you begin to stir in the passenger seat. “home.” “i wanna see ran.” your boyfriend throws you a quick glance—your eyes remain closed and the rest of your words are incomprehensible—before he focuses back on the road. amused by your drunken state, he plays along. “alright, we’re going to ran.” the stretch of silence that follows is cut short when you speak again, “i’m thirsty.” so ran makes a quick stop at a convenience store, coming back shortly with a bottle in hand. he unscrews the cap before he gives you the drink, “careful.” you take a big gulp, instantly grimacing at the taste and it elicits a snort from your boyfriend. “what is this?” “water.”

“want more,” you slur. across from you, HANMA watches as you clumsily reach for the empty shot glasses on the table, flipping them upside down as if more alcohol will magically appear. he’s not going to lie—he finds it funny. entertaining, even. and if the circumstances were any different, he would’ve even encouraged this behavior. but he’s your boyfriend now and if there’s one thing he truly cares about, it’s you. drunk out of your wits, you don’t notice when hanma slides out of the booth until he’s soon presenting two more glasses to you. even though the contents are the same, he asks you to choose, “which one?” “hmm… that.” before you can get your hands on your drink, hanma intercepts and downs it in one go. you’re about to protest when he throws you over his shoulder and chugs the other drink out of your sight before heading for the exit. “let’s go.”

[theghooligan]

mitsuya hallucinating that koko was mikey during the intense training that taiju gave them to suffer through was wild man

[stunie]

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ KABEDON W TOKYO REVENGERS

TOKREV BOYS CAGING YOU AGAINST A WALL. ft. izana kurokawa, takashi mitsuya, & shuji hanma x f!reader

sfw. 1K wc. i’ve been sooo excited to write for izana !! & my head’s been buzzing w so many ideas after seeing a bunch of maid-sama edits back on my fyp <3

IZANA KUROKAWA. mild jealousy & possessiveness

You wonder if Izana can hear the rapid thumping of your heart as his arm comes to rest against the doorframe, his eyes looking intently into yours.

“Who was that guy you were talking to?” His voice breaks the silence, tone laced with the faintest hint of curiosity that sends a shiver down your spine.

You swallow hard, trying to compose yourself even though the proximity has heat rising all the way to the tips of your ears. “I don't know,” you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper. “He just asked for my number. And i said no.”

There's a moment of silence as izana processes your words, his gaze never leaving yours. You hold your breath, waiting for his reaction, unsure if you should add that you mentioned you have a boyfriend too.

“That’s all?” Izana finally speaks, his voice low and steady, but there's something in his eyes that betrays his calm exterior.

You nod. “That’s all.”

He exhales deeply, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he moves closer to you. His fingers brush against your cheek, lingering on your jaw for a brief moment before gently tilting your head to the side. “Izana?”

“Mhm,” he hums softly, his breath warm against your skin as he presses gentle kisses along your collarbone. “That sounds right.”

His lips move with a deliberate slowness to cover every inch of your skin, and you can’t help but melt into his touch as his lips ghost down your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses along your skin. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him, and you sigh. “That’s good.” He repeats to himself.

“Don’t pay them any attention.” Izana reminds you, his voice dropping to a soft murmur against your skin. “You’re mine.”

HANMA SHUJI. recreation of that !! scene from maid sama (he gives u a hickey on your back), reader wearing a backless dress, ‘pretty thing,’ ‘princess’

“That’s a tiny dress you got on.” Hanma muses, long arm resting just above your head as he cages you against the wall, his face coming to hover mere inches in front of yours.

“Where’s a pretty thing like you headed tonight?”

“Well, yeah,” you pout, adjusting the thin strap of your dress. “I’m going to my friend’s birthday party tonight.”

You struggle to read the expression on his face, amused eyes lingering on the simple design of your dress, ignoring the way you huff impatiently.

“Backless?”

“Yeah, backless. I’m leaving now.” With a quick tilt of your head, you try to gauge his reaction again, a part of you skeptical to whether or not he’s planning something this time.

He only responds with a slow hum, chuckling a bit when you rudely swat his arm off the wall, gaze following the natural sway of your hips as you mumble something in annoyance and walk away.

Backless…he thinks.

That’s right— backless.

An idea pops into his head, his lips curling into a mischievous grin. Without a second thought, he reaches out to roughly tug at one of your wrists, pulling you back towards him in one swift motion.

“The hell are you doing-” you snap, your voice trailing off into a sharp intake of breath when you feel his lips press against the middle of your back. “S-shuji!” You protest, heart racing as you feel the warmth of his lips press against your skin.

There’s a pop when he pulls back slightly to look up at you, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

“Oh? You’re going? With that hickey on your back?” His voice comes out low, tinged with too much amusement for your liking.

“Hope you have fun, princess.”

TAKASHI MITSUYA. he takes care of you when you’re feverish

“You shouldn’t be out of bed right now.” Mitsuya’s voice breaks the silence, and you stop dead in your tracks.

There’s an exasperated groan from you, your hand coming to rub at your temples. Of course he would be awake— you really thought you had waited long enough before trying to sneak downstairs.

“I want cake, Mitsuya.” You whine, arms folding over your chest. “‘M not sick anymore. The fever’s gone down.”

“Is that so?” Mitsuya’s tone sounds both amused and skeptical as he steps closer, watching the way you start to fidget with the sleeves of your shirt. You give him a quick and desperate nod to confirm, and it’s all a little too suspicious for his liking.

But before you can protest further, his arms come around you, caging you against the wall, and you suck in a sharp breath as he scans you up and down. His gaze is focused and intentional— and you feel your heart rate pick up.

“Interesting,” he whispers, warm breath grazing your skin. It sends a violent shiver down your spine. “Let me check.”

“W-wait you shouldn’t—” your protests are halted as he leans even closer, until his face is just an inch in front of yours. He thinks it’s cute the way your eyes slam shut involuntarily, your heart pounding against your chest at the proximity. His forehead presses gently against yours, and you can feel the subtle warmth of his skin.

“Liar.” He murmurs softly, his lips brushing against yours so gently you almost miss it. “You’re burning up.”

[tsukimirecs]

TOMAN 𓏵 tokyo revengers // fic recommendations

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works

manjirou sano - mikey

taiyaki for the soul

taiyaki for the soul pt. ii

stubborn picky eaters

how you get the girl

two birds

baji keisuke

dandelions

drunk kisses

patch me up

of large rimmed glasses and dusted blazers

just a memory

ken ryuguji - draken

homecoming queen

sleepy mornings

her soul begs for me

a month without you

when i'm with you

city lights

mitsuya takashi

memo

traces

just passing by

pin cushion

when glory favors the verdant

kazutora hanemiya

dice or no dice

love confessions

penpal

matsuno chifuyu

take me back!

easy solace

on time.

committed

murder you with cuteness

hands down

[haruchuiyo]

my dear

a few moments of your lovely moments with your husband ran haitani

content: sfw + established marriage + fem!reader + a short mention of ran’s gang days + a shooort married couple fight + lots of kissing + fluff and more fluff + usage of nicknames like ‘baby’ (for both reader and ran) and ‘my dear husband/wife’

sorry tumblr for not feeding you with tr content but here’s one, hope you enjoy hihi cause husband ran haitani is swoooony

—

Ran’s heartbeat is going steadily as it softly thumps against your chest, as his own chest lightly raises up and down and you can feel his fingers gently play with the strands of your hair. You curl your body onto his embrace, burrowing your face in the crook of his neck as you throw your leg over his thighs and squeeze yourself further into his arms.

You can smell the faint scent of his shower gel, well yours since he uses yours because according to him, yours smells better so he uses it. You smile at the thought as you slip your hand past below his arm to hug him to yourself. You feel Ran hug you back before his hold loosens to focus on the phone in his hand. Which you don’t mind, because his other hand that was playing with the strands of your hair is now softly rubbing circles on your back.

It’s all so soothing and comfortable, you feel safe in the arms of a man you love so you doze off to sleep. Not before you feel a soft press of his mouth on your cheek as he whispers a “goodnight, baby.” to you.

—

The sight before you is nothing new but it still both gives you a slight ache in your heart and feelings of awe. Despite his massive beautiful tattoo that’s all over the left half of his back, Ran’s scars are small but they’re there. Some on the back of his bicep, here and there on his back and a few on the back of his shoulders. His scars are a reminder of both his past and also his survival.

Ran is busy looking through documents while standing over his work desk, in nothing but a square patterned pajama pants. His back muscles are lean, his waist lithe and he’s slightly hunching over the desk with his shoulders looking a little tense. It’s the sight of his bare back with his healed scars that had you approach him. You were just gonna let him be and work, but you missed your husband the short moments he wasn’t in your proximity because he needed to work.

You stand behind him as you hear Ran hum as a way of greeting you. You decide to reply by placing your hands on his lower back and pressing a soft kiss on the scar on the back of his shoulder. Ran tenses slightly from the surprise but let’s out a slight chuckle.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is soft as he asks, you shake your head which in turn made your lips go side to side against his skin. “Nothing, just kissing your scars better because it’s a privilege of mine.” Ran let out a little laugh at your words. So you decide to wrap your arms around his waist and press a few more kisses on the other scars on his back. Before you could even kiss some more, Ran turns around and you face plant onto his sternum because he pulled you against his body.

“Ow! You should’ve let me know you’d turn around.” You pout as you place your chin on his sternum while looking up at him since he’s taller. Ran’s violet eyes are shimmering with delight as his mouth is shaped into a beautiful grin, his hands flexing against your waist where he has now put his hands. You can see more healed scars on his body, you couldn’t help but kiss these scars as well.

“Like how you should have let me know before you put your ice cold hands on my back.” At his words, you giggle and shake your head. You softly stroke over his scars with your thumbs as you reply to your husband. “I think it’s another privilege of mine, to not warn you before putting my ice cold hands on your bare body.” You playfully stick out your tongue and Ran laughs. He squeezes his hands on your waist before he lifts you up effortlessly and seats you on his desk. He stands between your thighs with his hands sliding up from your thighs to your waist before he lifts his hands to cup your face.

“Don’t your dear husband get any privileges as well?” He asks and you pretend to ponder on his words, which has Ran grinning at your antics. Both because it’s silly and also cause you’re too endearing. So he cranes his head down before he playfully bites your nose. You slightly yelp in shock and Ran decided to teasingly bite your cheek too. You put your hands over his mouth to stop him from playfully biting you any further.

“I can feel your saliva all over my face now, my dear husband.” You sternly tell him, or well, try to because the smile creeping up on your mouth is telling your pretend stern self otherwise.

“That’s another one of your privileges, my dear wife.” Ran coos as he says that as he retracted your hand away from his mouth and placed them on his bare chest.

“And here is a privilege of mine.”

He speaks before he leans his head down once more and presses a soft loving kiss on your lips.

—

You are staring up at the ceiling in your shared bedroom with Ran. He was taking a while in the bathroom to get ready for bed, so you decided to look at the ceiling and see glow in the dark suns, stars and moon stickers that’s sticking on it. The thought of the day they first got up there brings a smile to your face.

That day, you had a small fight with Ran which is now completely irrelevant. Having felt upset, you decided to go out for a time alone to collect your thoughts and emotions so you didn’t have to lash out on Ran even more. It had been an hour or two when you got home, the world dark outside. Ran had been nowhere in sight, and that day had been his day off from work.

You opened the door to the bedroom and saw Ran asleep on the bed with the help of the little light from the moonlight outside. With quiet steps, you reached your wardrobe to change in your pyjamas and then decided to join Ran in bed. No matter how upset you were at your husband, you still longed for his presence and you wanted to make up with him. You had thought ‘tomorrow hopefully’ since Ran was asleep but when you had placed your head on your pillow, you heard Ran speak.

“Hey.” Was all he simply had said. “Hi.” You softly greeted back, then you felt his hand on yours and he intertwined his fingers with your own.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you so easily, especially on a day when I had free time to be with you.” His voice was soft and honest, the more he spoke the more he had gently pulled you closer to his body.

“I’m sorry too, I knew how tired you are after working non stop yet I pushed your limits.” Your chest meets Ran’s and he hugged you tighter against him.

“Are we good now?” He placed his forehead on yours and you nodded your head while smiling softly. Then you felt his hands on your face and he pressed a soft kiss on your lips before speaking up once more.

“Good, or else what I’m about to show you wouldn’t be so out of place.” He had said before he tilted your head upwards towards the ceiling and you saw it. The glowing stars, the sun and the moon. The sight was so cute you giggled a little.

“Glowing stickers?” You giggled out and Ran hummed out a yes. If you knew your husband well enough, you were sure there was a tinge of red on his cheeks. You wish you could’ve seen it but the moonlight wasn’t that bright in the bedroom that night. “I had seen these while going out by myself, they made me think of you.” He confessed and your heart swelled in love for him.

“That’s so cute, Ran.” You pecked his lips softly.

“I know what I’m about to say is a little corny, but when I say you’re my star, the sun and the moon I truly mean it. Maybe you’re more than those, because you’ve lightened up my world in the loveliest way possible and to fight with the one person who sees and loves me for me, and not my past, it eats me up from the inside.” His voice had wavered and you felt tears well up in your eyes.

“It’s okay baby, fights can happen and all we have to do is resolve them.” You reassured him as you held his face gently. He nodded his head, his thumb softly stroked your lips when you had flashed him a smile at his nod.

“Though, these stickers would have worked even if we hadn't resolved our little fight. You’d win me back so fast.” You told him and Ran laughed softly, nodding his head.

“Forgot you can be a little corny as well.” He teased and you stuck out your tongue for a second. “Glowing stickers is not corny at all, for your information.” Ran spoke in agreement to your words with a soft kiss on your mouth.

You look away from the glowing stickers on the ceiling when you hear the bedroom door open and there’s your Ran in the flesh. He sheepishly grinned at you as he joins you in bed.

“There was this black thing stuck between my teeth and I couldn’t get it out.” He told you of his reason for his long bathroom visit and you giggled. “Did you use the toothpick?” Ran nods his head as he grabs you by your waist and pulls you into his embrace.

“Worthless piece of shit.” He mumbled in slight annoyance against your head and you giggled lightly against his neck. Then you hear the slight snoring from above your head and you know Ran is fast asleep. Grinning at how quickly he falls asleep, you tucked yourself further into your husband’s embrace and dozed off to sleep as well.

—

ran haitani you will forever be famous and have a place in my heart #theitmansince2020something

hope you enjoyed reading this! if you did, a like and a reblog would be veryyyyy appreciated! mwah :3

[miss-jaye]

if manjiro sano ever saw his wife in a sundress, he’d drop to his knees and worship her right then and there—not that he didn’t do that every day already.

when you stepped out of the bathroom in a cute little sundress that hugged your figure just right, you couldn’t resist giving your husband a playful twirl, the skirt swirling around you perfectly. you’d tied your hair with a bow to complete the look, and manjiro just stood there, staring, his jaw slack and drool threatening to escape the corner of his mouth.

you turned back around with a smile, but it quickly morphed into a puzzled expression. “manjiro? honey, you’re drooling.”

“huh?” he blinked, not even bothering to wipe the drool away. “you’re not wearing that out of the house without me.” he closed the distance between you, slipping his hands around your waist.

you chuckled, grabbing a nearby towel to dab the drool from his chin. “what are you talking about, baby?”

“you’re just too…” manjiro trailed off, his eyes locked on the stunning woman in his arms. “too...?”

you tilted your head with an amused smile, watching as he looked at you like a dog with its ears perked up and tail wagging in anticipation.

“perfect,” he finally finished, a grin spreading across his face. your blond husband then pulled you close and dipped you unexpectedly.

“oh!” you squealed, quickly wrapping your arms around his neck for stability.

he chuckled before leaning in to kiss you, his lips tasting of your strawberry chapstick as his tongue playfully sought entrance. you gave it without hesitation, and the two of you made out for a few sweet minutes until the need for air forced you to pull away, breathless and slightly flushed.

“what was that for?” you asked, your voice tinged with a soft blush.

manjiro smiled down at you. “will you marry me again?”

you rolled your eyes, playfully exasperated. “'jiro, i’ve remarried you twice already. we can’t keep doing this.”

“yes, we can. we have the money. or better yet, let’s just skip to the honeymoon part, yeah?”

“'jiro!” you scolded, laughing.

[izanacore]

Can we have Mikey x reader period edition :(? I’m in so much pain and I think reading smth like this will bring comfort for me and help me with my cramps :((

“little things” | manjiro sano x reader

one- shot 𓂃⋆.˚

ticket #003

synopsis: mikey takes gentle care of y/n during her period, from running errands to soothing her through the pain and tears—showing her love in every small, quiet way.

characters: manjiro “mikey” sano, fem!reader

warnings: fluff, comfort, emotional vulnerability

notes: emergency reqs!! i don’t usually write reqs immediately—some take weeks. but i’ll write this for you right away, anon. hope you feel better. <3 this one is just short, btw!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

the soft hum of the grocery store still lingered in mikey’s ears as he stepped into the apartment, arms full of snacks and the little things y/n asked for—chocolate, heat patches, pads, and her favorite juice. he wasn’t new to this. growing up with emma taught him a lot, so picking up period essentials for his girlfriend was second nature by now.

“y/n, baby, i’m home,” he called out gently, slipping off his shoes and heading toward the living room where she’d been when he left. but it was empty.

his brows furrowed.

he made his way to the bedroom, and the sight nearly broke him.

there she was, curled up on the bed like a tiny ball, her frame trembling lightly from the cramps. mikey’s heart clenched. she was sweating even though the room was comfortably cool, and she looked like she was barely holding it together.

“baby…” he whispered, rushing to her side and easing her back against the pillows. his hand brushed the damp strands of hair from her forehead.

her eyes fluttered open, glassy and pained. “mikey…”

“shh, it’s okay,” he soothed, his thumb gently caressing her cheek. “i’m here now. i’m so sorry i left you alone, princess…”

he kissed her forehead softly, lingering for a second before pulling back. “just stay right here, okay? i’ll run you a bath. you’ll feel better in no time.”

y/n gave the tiniest nod, her body too exhausted to speak. and just like that, mikey was gone for a second, sprinting to the bathroom to start a warm bath, making sure the water was just the right temperature—not too hot, not too cold. he even lit one of her favorite candles, the lavender one she always said helped her relax.

when he came back, he didn’t say anything—just scooped her up into his arms with the gentlest touch, like she was made of glass. he held her so carefully, carrying her to the bathroom, whispering soft nothings along the way.

“i’ve got you, love,” he said as he slowly undressed her, making sure she felt safe the entire time. his fingers moved with the utmost care, and once she was settled in the water, he knelt beside the tub and started washing her hair. he massaged her scalp so tenderly.

he washed her body, too—light touches and sweet murmurs filling the steamy air. not a hint of lust. just love. pure, overwhelming love.

when the bath was over, mikey dried her off with the fluffiest towel, wrapping her up like a little burrito before carrying her back to the bedroom. “do you wanna wear your favorite pajamas?” he asked, eyes crinkling as he smiled down at her.

y/n gave a weak nod, lips pouting a little. “and your hoodie…”

mikey chuckled, heart melting at the sight.

he helped her dress, moving slowly and with so much care. she felt fresh, warm, and safe—wrapped in her boyfriend’s hoodie and the quiet love he always gave so freely.

“i’ll grab your snacks and dry your hair while you eat, okay?” mikey said gently, tipping her chin up to steal a soft kiss. y/n melted into it, the way she always did when he kissed her like that—sweet and slow, like he had all the time in the world just for her.

a few minutes later, mikey came back with his arms full of her favorite snacks, setting them down with a proud little grin. “i bought your faves,” he said, and y/n smiled sleepily, already reaching for her comfort food.

while she sat up in bed, eating and watching him with soft eyes, mikey grabbed the hairbrush and dryer. he settled beside her and started brushing her hair with careful hands, then dried it gently, always mindful not to tug or rush. his fingers were soft against her scalp, his touch patient, and every now and then, he tucked a piece behind her ear just to see her cheeks glow.

“gonna tie it back, alright?” he said softly, gathering her hair into a loose ponytail. the way he focused, the way his brow furrowed just a little—it made her heart squeeze. mikey wasn’t just doing this for her, he was doing it with love in every motion.

he set the brush down and reached for the heating pad, warming it just enough before carefully placing it over her lower stomach. “there… that should help, baby.”

when she was done eating, y/n scooted closer without a word and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his chest like she was trying to hide from the world. mikey responded instantly, holding her tight, his palm smoothing up and down her back.

“mikey…” she whispered.

he glanced down. “hm?”

silence.

then he felt it—her shoulders trembling, quiet sniffles muffled against his hoodie.

“hey, baby…” he said, voice full of concern as he cupped her face gently, brushing away her tears. “what’s wrong?”

“i don’t know,” she said with a shaky breath. “i just… i just wanna cry.”

her voice cracked, and the sobs came, soft but heartbreaking.

mikey didn’t tease or question. he just smiled gently, pressing her face to his shoulder, cradling the back of her head as he held her close and rocked her slightly.

“shhh… i’ve got you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her hair.

she clung to him, crying quietly. and in the middle of it all, she whispered, “i love you so much, mikey…”

he kissed her head again, arms holding her like she was something precious. “and i love you even more,” he murmured, his voice full of warmth.

no matter how overwhelmed she felt, no matter how many tears spilled—when mikey was there, with his arms around her and love in his voice, the world always felt just a little softer.

and in that moment, y/n knew—she didn’t need to be strong all the time. not when she had him.

[emmyrosee]

when you have an itch on your back, you flop down on top of him and whine about the itch, writhing like a dog trying to scratch your back against him, begging him for help. he pulls a face, reels his hands back as you squirm, “why must you come to me with such demands? are you not a whole grown adult?”

“because you scratch my back the best,” you whimper. “please?”

he clicks his tongue and puts his phone to the side, “i totally wasn’t in the middle of anything, it’s fine, sure,” he grumbles, but ultimately, he lowers his hand to indeed, scratch your back, hands coming under your shirt to gently, barely, dig his nails in to quell the sensation, listening to your directions of ‘up, left, little lower.’ you mewl and relax against him as he hits the spot giving you the most trouble, and you hear him sigh.

“you’re literally like an animal,” he mutters, but you hear the smirk in his voice.

“woof,” you offer him, stretching happily as the hand scratching your back slowly stops, leaving his thumb to gently smooth over the now warm skin.

“and for the record, i shouldn’t just be the best one who scratches your back- i’d better be the only one.”

you smile and nod, not making a move to get up as his other arm rests on your back, using you as a prop to keep his phone in his hands. he doesn’t say anything, merely keeping one hand to smooth up and down your back, the other thumbing through his phone as you slowly feel your eyes grow heavy from the soft touch and the love in the air.

[f0ofishies]

bonten!rindou , you found out your little psychopath boyfriend.. was an actual psychopath. you should've known that insignia tattooed on the front of his neck.

bonten!rindou accidentally leaving his blood-stained gloves in the dumbest compartment of his car. Your first arguement ever– and a huge one at that.

bonten!rindou , who made you so desensitized on the topics of how he beat another guy with some bat– or even shoot people. You'd just looked at him.. your eyes. He knew he was in trouble.

bonten!rindou that still got you to stay with him, you knew you loved him, he knew that too. There'd be no way you'd leave him– even if he was a part of a criminal organization. He stared at you, he pouted a bit.

bonten!rindou , who was late from your upcoming date because he had this huge meeting. It basically escalated another argument like before. You were pissed off.. already sleeping on your backside.

"Baby.. don't sleep yet.." His back against the doorway, he contemplated onto whether to approach you or not. Long strides of his quickened pace on the floor was heard. "Mmm, my darling.." He confided in you in his whiny voice.

You felt his pesky hands, trapped between him. You grumbled.. "Rin..not now.." You buried your head into the silky pillows. He grumbled– and his purple hair slid over your shoulder. "Just hear me out.. okay..?" The desperation in his tone made you ache.

"What is it?.." You whispered back at him, finally letting him rest beside his purple gaze, leaning in to kiss your cheek desperately. "I'm going tomorrow..." "Where–" You interrupted as he shushed you, by the way his eyes fell You could tell it wasn't good news. "A mission tomorrow, It's going to be dangerous.. and I won't be back for a few weeks."

Your eyes widened at the revelation. "But–" Your hands quickly grabbed his head, pulling him closer. "Don't– don't leave me, not when our relationship.." You panicked, babbling on about how he needed to be here– to stay with you.. to stay together. You huffed– tears welled up in your eyes.

He kissed those salty tears away, you huffed as his thumb swiped at your eyes. "Mmm.. cmon beautiful.. it's just two weeks..?" "No..!" You spouted out loud. "No– you can't.. please..."

bonten!rindou chuckled, kissing your stray tears.. it was salty to him– he always thought how cute you were when you cried. But it did tug on his heart the way you just wanted him to stay. Another plead, a wail or even a cry.. he'd just stay, he really would.

bonten!rindou who was rocking his hips inside you, "Cmon, pretty.. put your legs over me.." He huffed when you didn't listen. Tugging at your calf– he hoisted up your leg muscle against his defined chest. He wasn't very muscular but defined through the years. Your leg straightened, accommodating to the stretch with no prep.

"Rin– no more..!" Your cries could probably be heard by the neighbors.. you've had too much sex with rindou. The neighbors already got the full show at that, you couldn't care less 'bout them. He suddenly picked up his thrusts, his hips grinding against yours.

"So good for me.. so shittt–" He could feel your walls clenching around him, he's pesky thumb rimming around your ass hole. Even as much as spreading it wide.. juices of both of you sliding back out. Such a lewd sight. Your face changed into an 'o' as he did that move, you were so familiar with.

"I wish you could look at yourself– you always make such lewd expressions when I do that..!" He murmured close to your ear, those redden ears of yours matching your eyes, he could tell it was too much. You could catch a glimpse of his adam's apple bobbing– that made another moan quiver right out of you.

And just when he finally bursts his load right inside you, he can't help but keep his hips jerking slightly. Hearing another whimper for you, his signature smile catches you off guard. Rindou was a cold man, but you always had a way to tug on his heartstrings. "Promise.. promise you'll come back, dont matter the things you need to do.." It earned a laughter from him.

"Come back? Baby, you know I'll always come back.. even when you hold that ring on your finger?" oh,, Rindou Haitani, that sneaky man, had slipt an engagement ring right around your finger.

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Can I ask for a first time (iykyk) with tenjiku? Where reader is a bit shy at first but man she kinky af on the insideee

Tenjiku x Shy!Virgin!->Kinky!Reader

♡ NSFW, fem reader, fluff kinda, virginity loss obviously, virgin!Shion, soft sex -> kinky shit, rough sex/manhandling, overstimulation, creampie/breeding kink, cum play/cum drinking, daddy kink, saliva/spit play, tongue kissing, size kink/belly bulging, degradation, biting ♡

Characters: Izana, Kakucho, Ran, Rindou, Mucho, Mochi, Shion, Hanma

note: anon you ate real bad with this idea, I'm so sorry I procrastinated so hard with this 😭 I should be ashamed of myself fr

edit: added Hanma for @sayaka-ur-cutie

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Izana (breeding kink)

🎴 Izana is surprisingly gentle at first, he wants to make your first time as pain free as possible. But as soon as he feels you thrusting your hips against his and basically fucking him back, he's gone, eyes rolled back and everything (I believe in extra sensitive!Izana). It also didn't help that you were whining for him not to pull out, the mere thought of cumming inside you had him seeing stars. He spent the rest of the night fucking, filling, and overstimulating you.

Kakucho (cum play)

🩷 Kakucho literally makes the sweetness love to you, and it's not until after that he finds out how freaky you really are. After he pulls out and takes the condom off, he's shocked (and aroused) to see you take it out of his hand and raise it to your lips, swallowing every drop of his cum from it. He's standing there for a solid minute or two just staring at you before finally mustering up the courage to politely ask you if you want more.

Ran (daddy kink)

💜 Ran knows it's your first time, so he's going nice and slow with you...up until you call him daddy. He doesn't even say anything, he just smirks because he knew you were an undercover freak. He starts going slower, trying to make you whine and beg for him. He'll only speed up again if you call him daddy again though.

Rindou (spit play)

🩵 Rindou loves the way you hide your face when he starts fucking you, he thinks it's cute that you're so shy. You're a lot less shy by the time he finds the perfect rhythm though, your hands roaming all over his body as he pounds into your pussy. Eventually your hands find their way to his hair, tangling in his locks and pulling him into a kiss. He thinks it's just a sweet little kiss and it was, until you slipped your tongue in his mouth. He just couldn't help but moan into the kiss before sliding his tongue into your mouth in return. And he definitely picked up on the way you clenched around him when his spit mixed with yours and started dripping down your lips and chin. He found your weakness, so expect him to exploit it to the fullest extent from now on.

Mucho (size kink)

💙 Mucho didn't think much of it when you mentioned how big he was, he knew you were just stating the obvious and probably a little nervous since you were a virgin. But when he kept hearing you say it in between the occasional moan or whimper while he was fucking you, that's when he realized just how much the difference in size turned you on. And he definitely didn't mind, if anything he started doing things to make the size difference more obvious. He grabbed your thighs and pressed your legs closer to your body, making you bend in ways you didn't know you could. He manhandled you, touching you with more force to show off his strength. But his new favorite thing was pressing his hand against the prominent bulge in your tummy, chuckling softly as you moaned and writhed in pleasure underneath him.

Mochi (degradation)

🍡 Mochi knew it was your first time, so he was extra careful not to hurt you...physically anyways. You just looked so cute underneath him, he couldn't help but tease you a little. Whispering dirty praises in your ear, telling you how good of a slut you were for him. He'd totally understand if you weren't into it, but the smile on his face when he felt your pussy gripping him tighter gave away the absolute delight he felt in knowing that you were just as nasty as him.

Shion (biting)

♥️ Shion took his sweet time when he took your virginity, mainly because he was a virgin too and wanted your first time together to be special. He gently thrusted in and out of you with his face buried in the crook of your neck, planting soft kisses all over. All his gentle efforts went out the window when he felt your teeth sinking into his shoulder though. He had an almost visceral reaction to the bite, letting out a gasping moan and gripping your thighs tighter as he slowed down his thrusts, trying desperately not to cum inside you. He didn't know how to react, so he did what his body told him to and gently bit you back, his dick twitching inside you as he heard you let out a soft whimper. You two spent the rest of the night in each other's arms, fucking gently and nipping at each other's skin.

Hanma (rough sex)

🏵️ Hanma knew you were a virgin and was fully prepared to be gentle with you, at least at first. As soon as he bottomed out in you he knew damn well he wasn't going to be gentle the entire time. And your soft moans and the way you begged him to go harder only spurred him on. By the end of the night he was balls deep in your pussy with no intentions of ever being gentle in the bedroom again.

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Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe

[theghooligan]

chifuyu to takemitchy every time he comes back to the past: