#sano shinichiro x you

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . SANO SHINICHIRO ; — shinichiro loved hearing from his grandpa, sometimes his timing wasn’t the best though.

warnings: f!reader, stepcest, handjobs, shin takes a call. note: i went insane writing this :< he’s so soggy <3

it was so fucked up, the way shinichiro’s sinking into the couch in his living room — watching a movie with his pretty little step sisters at his side under the blanket. a good older brother, the best actually and maybe if anyone were to see you both from a distance they’d think the same thing, ignorant to the fact he’s breathing deep and so fucking hard as your hand pumps his cock underneath the comforter.

most of your movie nights ended up like this, maybe it was the fact your older brother was always glued by your side — too used to not getting a silver of attention from women but you were different. you’d never turn him down like the other ones do, you were too good and he thought you were so much prettier anyway, like the world just placed you right there in his lap all for the taking.

“shit, angel. fuck—thought ya liked this movie? ya ain’t g’nna watch it?” shinichiro’s voice is hazy, trailing off into something needier when your hand squeezes around his shaft and his hips twitch to follow your movements as he sends you a lidded, heavy look.

“but shin! i wanna cuddle with you instead.” he is so fucked— he thinks when you push yourself closer followed by another rough stroke of your palm along the length of him, your tits press closer into his chest and you feel your older brother throb when he lets his eyes focus on the way they pool at the neckline of your shirt.

“yeah? well y’know i can’t say no t’ ya, baby.” it’s soft as he pants against your cheek, smearing a wet kiss along your skin before you’re twisting to meet him for a real one. shinichiro knows it’s wrong, the way he’s so eager to press his tongue against his little sisters, gasping as his hips grind into the tight ring your fist as made around his cock as he licks into your mouth, greedy for even more of you.

but just as he gets into it, groaning as he lets himself suck on your tongue — his free hand that was resting over the back of the couch dropping over your shoulders so he can curl you into him, his phone rings and he groans when you pull away to breathe.

he’d normally ignore it, but he feels the way your movement on his cock slows when the contact id shows it’s your grandpa — he never missed his calls, too scared incase it was some sort of emergency so he looks at you before you’re giving him a look that urges him to pick up.

“just gimme a sec, princess.” shinichiro drawls as he runs his hand through the messy mop of dark hair framing his features, fingers fumbling with his phone as he expects you to stop—and you do, for a moment, until he’s pressing the accept call button and suddenly your hands are back on him and he almost chokes.

“hey g-gramps, shit.” he stutters before he curses under his breath and shoots you a wide eyed look—his free hand is wrapping lightly around your wrist but another sweet little squeeze around the head of his cock and he swear his limbs feel too fuzzy to even try to stop you.

“cut it out, c’mon, baby. y’re killin’ me here.” your older brother gasps quickly as the phone falls slightly away from his ear, his gaze on you despite the way every twist of your wrist makes his eyes want to roll back. another languid pull of your fist around his cock and shinichiro moans before he’s covering it up with a cough, head falling against the back of the couch before he’s desperately trying to listen to what his grandpa is saying right now.

“she’s here, jus’ uh—hangin’ out.” you think it’s charming, the way he’s biting on his lower lip to hide just how good his little sisters touch feels on him right now — flushed to his chest because he knows it’s wrong but he fuck— does he love it.

“yeah, fuck—doin’ good gramps.” another moan slips from between his lips and you can tell your grandpa knows somethings up. shinichiro is normally more talkative than this and you can tell he’s not ignorant to that when his next words have your older brother stuttering, cock twitching in your hold like he’s just been caught out.

“ah—‘ts nothin’, must’ve pulled somethin’ at the shop ‘s all. just gotta s-stretch it out.” you let yourself lean in closer as you trail your lips along the oversized neckline of your brothers shirt, tongue laving over the silver necklace that trails along his collarbones as his hips twitch up into the next stroke of your hand.

it was fun to tease shinichiro like this despite the fact he was the older one, knowing just how sensitive your brother was to your touch as he lets his head roll to the side — exposing more sensitive skin for you to suckle and nibble on as you vaguely hear your grandpa grumble about how he should get you to help him stretch out more after a long day at the shop. but this only spurs you on as you feel his free hand cup around the back of your head as he presses you deeper into his neck with a breathless, fucked out chuckle.

“yeah—heh, i’ll ask ‘er. sure she’ll be happy to help ‘er older brother, y’know?”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[suhjihanma]

☩ 𝔇𝔯𝔦𝔭𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔊𝔬𝔬𝔡𝔰 ☩

☩Pairing: Shinichiro Sano / Female Reader ☩Words: 569 words ☩Kink: (8) Lactation / Nipple Play ☩Contenting Warning: Dirty talk, teasing, grinding, nipple play, lactation kink, mentions of nipple clamps, ☩Author's Note: Minors, ageless blogs, and kink shamers do not interact. Also. my masterlist tag has been hidden on my blog so, to hell with Tumblr. Y'all have to do some searching on my blog. Still, I love you horny guys. I need to show my 'Tokyo Revengers' boys some more love. It's hard writing fics while on your period. So much impure thoughts, you guys. Hope you guys, enjoy. Reblogs and likes are appreciated.

Silk fabric pressed against warm skin.

Now, the cold material that draped across your ample breasts now suddenly comes with the warmth of large hands that handled them with care. Tilting your head back to meet the shoulders of a man that was focused on giving you the pleasure that you craved for, a constant string of pathetic mewls stretched across ears that were listening to pleasure.

A pleasure that you yearned for so badly under a guy like Shinichiro. 

He could be minding the shop, rambling on about the accessories that he had for his motorcycles, along with mingling around regular customers, but having both of his hands feeling over the warm weighted breasts had him wanting to explore every part of your body. Frame by frame.

An addict would be harsh of words, yet the desire of wanting more grew as his fingers lightly touched the small rises that circled around your areola. You knew that Shinichiro was a man that played with his food, yet the horrible aches of wanting more than just his fingers grew to be more of a teasing hindrance. Enough of standing up with your ass grinding to the familiar dent that slowly grew in his pants, the hurting desire of being pushed down on a maintenance desk while he mercilessly fucks you from behind grew stronger.

You wanted more.

The mewls that came from your lips grew to be more frustrated as he playfully brushes both of his fingers around your erected nipples, now the fingers gently caressing the perkiness. Curse words of the book slipped out from each moan as you shamelessly grind yourself more into the back of him, a guttural groan was made in response as Shinichiro pinched your nipples with force. A pleading cry came out of your lips as you bit the puffed-out bottom lip, suppressing every moan that was made.

Your body can be unforgiving.

“Fuck, baby. Need some clamps on these things.” He moaned out before playfully plucking at the erected nubs. As the pressure of his fingers grew, so did the small secretions that dripped from the corners of his pressed down fingers. The feeling of something dripped between your legs caught your attention to look down and see that a familiar white substance was slowly began to ooze from your nipples. As Shinichiro’s fingers began to trance the liquid all over your nipples, you couldn’t help but to moan at the sight you were seeing. “Oh, baby. Ah, my tits…”

Shinichiro quietly noticed the haze-like gaze as he continued to tease your nipples, soft moans escaped his lips as he was looking over the shined, milky liquid that coated your hardened, yet highly sensitive nipples, traces of droplets leaving and splashing against your soft, thick thighs. Such an erotic view, Shinichiro was no better than any man. As he continued on with his teasing, the more you grew restless of wanting more than just his hands on your breasts. He could be suckling on them, favoring the taste of your sweet essence that secreted from your body. He could be doing all of those things and the more frustrated you became, so did the tortuous teasing. 

It was now as if he was reading your frustration as words ever so calm graze the noises of moans, cries, and please.

“Guess I’ll be milking these tits, too. Fuck. I wonder how you taste, baby?”

[8aji]

too busy saving everybody else to save yourself. // s.s.

to think of a life without him filled you up with such sorrow you thought you'd let yourself drown just to be with him one last time. — or, an account of the events that transpired after the night of august 14, 2003.

pairing. shinichiro sano x baji!reader

wc. 18k

tags/cw. MDNI, angst with happy ending, fluff, hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers, baji!reader (reader is baji’s sibling), manga spoilers, shinichiro lives, anxiety/panic attacks, smoking, mentions of death, characters cry a lot, mentions of head trauma + hospitals + needles + blood, reader gets called 'nee-chan' a couple of times but other than that its pretty gn, very suggestive (one make/out sesh), takeomi is clowned a lot + please let me know if i missed anything!

a/n. its finally done sob i spent so much time polishing this as much as i could and what was supposed to be a 1k drabble mutated into this lmfao but all in all this fic is my baby, my child, and i love it so so much i just hope y'all will like it as much as i do !! a massive thanks to @tetsutits for betaing and to @mosviqu for letting me run the storyline through her !! hope all of u enjoy lots n lots !!

m.list ˖ tags ˖ byi/dni

One step, one blink, one breath, one step, one blink, one breath; like on autopilot, the pattern repeated itself over and over again. You could feel it beating inside your skull; the pounding of your heart resonated throughout your body, acting as the fuel behind your every move. 

Your blurry gaze amplified all of your other senses, sending your brain into a downward spiral of emotional overwhelm; the loud keyboard clicking, the obnoxious chatter, the drinking and munching of coffee and donuts, all of it made you want to tear your ears off. How could the world keep turning, people existing like normal, while you were being consumed by the tightness enveloping your lungs? The thought made you want to light up the whole building, watch it burn as the flames simmered the concrete to ashes to relieve the turmoil brewing inside your body. 

“I'm coming for Baji Keisuke?” You asked, barely managing to string the words together in a coherent sentence, head going a thousand miles per hour. “He’s my brother.”

The officer behind the desk pulled down his magazine, looking you over and taking in your dishevelled state. “Ah,” he sighed as soon as your brother's profile appeared on his screen. “Baji Keisuke, the little rascal with the breaking and entering charges, huh?”

lips forming into a thin line, you nodded, biting your tongue so as to not insult the man in front of you who, for some reason, couldn't help but chuckle, as if a twelve year-old kid being detained was funny. 

“Can I see him?”

He gave you one last obnoxious glance, before typing on his computer.

“He’s currently under police custody,” he explained condescendingly as if you didn’t know, pulling a manila folder and pressing the button on the printer, handing you a pen in the meantime. “He's only got a minor charge compared to the other brat he came in here with,” He let out a quiet cackle, not wanting to attract anyone else’s attention. To you, it was like he acted this nonchalant to rile you up, make your blood boil. And, in spite of your reluctance to admit to it, it was working. Being in his presence made you want to punch him. “We’re betting on whether the other kid’s gonna get charged with manslaughter or not.

“And just between us,” he made a come hither motion, but leaned forward on his chair at your lack of reaction. “I’m betting in favor of manslaughter, so I'm crossing my fingers for the guy to die soon, ‘ya know?”

Had you been wearing long sleeves, he would’ve been able to see you rolling them up, emotionally prepared to be charged with aggravated assault against a police officer

Fortunately, another officer called out your name, catching your attention before you could act on the violent scenarios coursing through your brain. You didn’t bother excusing yourself before leaving to find your brother.

He looked small, smaller than he actually was, as he sat on the floor with both his knees close to his chest. His eyes were puffy and red, it was obvious he had been crying; though by the looks of it, he had yet to stop.

The cell door sounded like nails against a chalkboard as it scraped against the floor. It made him flinch in surprise, snapping him out of the borderline-dissociating trance as he looked up at the intimidating officer, trying to gauge his intentions while gathering all the energy he had left in his body to fight off the man just in case he needed to. But as soon as he made eye contact with you he could feel himself lowering his guard. 

He didn’t even hesitate, his body moved on his own, running past the officer and straight into your arms, letting the harsh sobs he had tried bottling up rack his body, along with muffled apologies and incoherent explanations.

“It's okay,” you mumbled against his hair, trying to calm down his heart wrenching cries. He nuzzled his face against your neck, trying to get impossibly closer to the sound of your voice. You waited for him to nod, still clutching at your clothes with all the remaining energy he had. “He's strong, he’ll be alright.”

Though at this point you were unsure whether your words held any weight against the grand scheme of things; hopefully all your promises won’t turn into bold-faced lies.

You made your way out of the cell together, holding his left hand as he used the other to rub at his eyes, itchy and dry from all the crying. The two of you walked past a couple of cells before he stopped for what seemed like a millisecond, mumbling something under his breath in weak anguish. Had you not been hyper aware of everything going on around you, you wouldn’t have noticed the slight tug at your hand.

Kazutora sat on the floor the same way Keisuke did, knees pulled up to his chest, biting his cuticles raw to stop his brain from looping the traumatic set of events like a broken film; still, it wasn't enough to stop his whole body from trembling in shock. The distress fresh in his eyes made you want to drop everything just to hold him close, comfort him like you did with Keisuke. 

But you didn’t have much time, the officer behind you pressured the both of you to move, and considering Keisuke remained under police custody, you weren’t willing to risk him getting locked up again now that you had him by your side.

“Wait for me over there, okay?” You said, pointing at the waiting area. “I just have to fill out some paperwork and then we can go home.” He held your hand even tighter in his grasp in response, as if he was scared to let go. “I’ll be quick, promise.”

Reluctantly, he dragged his feet as he walked, not wanting to stray far away from you. At least there was still some sort of stubbornness left in him. You’ve never seen him act like this, uncontrollably crying and apologising, devoid of the mischievous glint in his eyes. Knowing the Keisuke you knew was still there comforted you.

“How, uh, how much is bail gonna be?” You asked once he had made himself at home on the plastic chairs. Thankfully it was someone else behind the desk instead of the asshole you had the misery of interacting with. 

You knew it wasn’t going to be cheap, already having a grasp of fines and bail costs thanks to your friends getting into trouble, but even with this knowledge, their response sent a shiver down your spine.

Maybe you could use some of your own savings, or part of your college fund. Using your mom’s money was also an option, but you didn't want to put the burden on her. If you skipped a semester it could give you some time to earn the money back, but you were already behind in a few classes, and the minimum wage from part time jobs wouldn’t stack up too much, so was it truly feasible?

Fuck, you knew they were children but you couldn’t help but curse at their recklessness, their stupidity and naivety. Did they actually think stealing a bike would be that easy? And now you have to pay for the consequences, quite literally. Of course, you could always leave him here, let him face the consequences straight on. There was nothing forcing you to bail him out. But who were you kidding, you’d kill for him, of course you were going to pay.

Making sure he was still where you left him, you looked over your shoulder back at him. He was slumped over his knees, aimlessly playing with his fingers as his eyes fixated on the corridor leading to the cells, a solemn sadness washing over his features. 

No. 

You weren’t going to. You were going to pay for your brother’s sins, or whatever the cheesy line says, and leave to never look back. You didn’t owe this other kid anything, most certainly when you couldn't afford it. But, after knowing him for so long, the thought of him staying in the middle of four cold walls until further notice broke your heart.

“Actually,” you sighed. This was gonna cost two semesters instead of one. “Could I pay for someone else’s bail as well?”

At first, he refused to acknowledge your presence, biting harder into his fingers. He tried self-soothing through slow back and forth rocking motions and the unintelligible words that spilled from his mouth, hugging himself tighter the closer you got. 

He didn’t move, frozen in place as if the lack of movement would make him invincible to the naked eye. He didn’t cave in no matter what you did, not when you kneeled in front of him nor when you whispered his name in hopes he would acknowledge your voice.

It only took a couple of seconds after that for him to shyly meet your gaze, warming up to you in an instant and clinging onto you just like Keisuke had done, though he did so with a lot more desperation, this sort of comfort foreign to Kazutora. He felt so small in your embrace, burying his face in your shoulder, the only thing he could do was claw at your body for reassurance. Other than that, he didn’t speak, didn’t cry, he almost didn’t move, to the point it had you questioning whether he was actually breathing. 

Once you coaxed him out of the cell and got a hold of your brother, your sole focus was on guiding the boys beside you out of the precinct as fast as possible, one hand holding Keisuke’s while the other rested on the back of Kazutora’s head. They didn’t need to spend more time than necessary in this place, surrounded by grimy cell blocks and seemingly socially inept officers who couldn’t keep their rambunctious laughter down.

Wakasa was sitting on his bike outside the police station waiting for the three of you, and though initially it was supposed to be just the two of you riding along with him, he wasn’t surprised you paid for your brother’s friend’s bail. He kept a fairly laid-back exterior, lit cigarette hanging from his fingers replacing his preferred strawberry flavored lollipops, inhaling back the smoke that seeped from his parted lips and freaking out on the inside.

The two of you were hanging out when multiple calls blasted through your phone, prompting you to rush to where you were now. First it was one from the hospital, one of the bearers of bad news that didn’t let you dwell on the fact that Shinichiro had written you down as one of his emergency contacts. Then came the call from the police station, sinking your heart down to the bottomless pit in your stomach.

“Everything alright?” He asked, putting out his cigarette, smothering the stick with his boot along with the other three he had finished while you were inside. 

You hummed in response, words dying in your throat. The silence around you itched and burned, made your skin prickle with discomfort, and even so, no one dared say anything besides the occasional noise of acknowledgement. They weren’t dumb. They were one-hundred percent aware of what they were doing, and this wasn’t something you could blame on their age either. Yes, they were kids, but a twelve year old should be able to discern right from wrong; aware that stealing is bad and that murdering people is wrong.

And deep down, you knew this was even more fucked up than it appeared to be. You knew Kazutora wouldn’t have cared for the victim had it not been Shinichiro. The only reason he was shaking like a leaf, flinching when Wakasa fastened the belt of his helmet against his head, was because he hurt Mikey’s brother. That’s not to say Keisuke was innocent, it was clear he wasn’t. Intentionally breaking into someone’s shop to steal a very valuable, very expensive, piece of equipment and potentially complicit in someone's murder. 

You wanted to tear your eyes off at the thought. Did they really think they could get away with this? That it would be as easy as stealing some candy or gum from the corner store? You wanted to curse them out for being so stupid, so naive. But looking down at their sunken faces, eyes bloodshot and teary as they sweated fear from every pore on their fragile skin, it made you want to excuse all their horrid behaviour, ignore the fact they committed a crime and in the process they mortally wounded an innocent man. 

You held down an involuntary gag at the violation of your principals, the memory of what had just gone down stirring unwanted bitterness inside your stomach. You were no one to criticise the two kids sitting between Wakasa and you. They could be stupid, but you were the weakest of them all.

“Let’s get going then.”

You could question your moral compass later, first you had to get them home.

The voices of the characters talking in the background faded into an uncomfortable white noise as your muscles dissolved along with your bones, breaking through your skin and seeping into the cushions of the couch. Each time you breathed in the more stressed you became at the uncertainty of your friend’s mortal status. 

You hadn’t received any news from the hospital, and though you knew that if they hadn’t called by now, they probably wouldn’t at least until tomorrow morning, that didn’t stop you from imprisoning your phone close to your chest. Maybe if you channelled all your strength into your hold then you’d lose the urge to cry.

In spite of their initial resistance, it didn’t take long to put the kids to bed. The two of them drifted off to a bitter, yet hopefully replenishing, sleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow. It wasn’t surprising, the whole incident had drained the both of them to their core.

“‘Sure you’re okay?” Wakasa asked, and had it not been for his voice you're sure you would’ve dissociated the rest of the night. Maybe the kids would find you the next morning still sitting on the couch, frozen like a statue as you stared at the ceiling, and freak out because they’d think you had died along with ‘Shinichiro-nii’. 

You hummed, it was the only response you could muster it seemed, with your eyes zeroing in on his shoulders, then his cheeks and then his earrings. Looking straight into his eyes would do you no good. It’d blow your cover in less than an instant, and though it’s fair to say it was a shit cover, amplifying your grief through your dejected silence instead of toning it down, it made you feel safer from the imminent doom. Still, shitty cover up or not, Wakasa knew you weren’t okay. You wouldn’t be able to fool him even if he was stupid, and at this point, he’s convinced you wouldn’t be able to fool anyone; a single glance your way was enough to tell you were silently crumbling. 

He let his head fall backwards against the back of the sofa, sighing in acknowledgement. No matter how many times he asked, deep down he knew you would only cave in at your own account, But at least his question somehow managed to bring you back down from the maze your brain had started fabricating to earth. And maybe, just maybe, if he gave you enough space that’d prompt you to speak. He didn’t mind waiting. Not for a couple of seconds, or the couple of minutes those seconds turned into, or the couple of hours they mutated into next, and so on until days and weeks and years had passed, until the scarcity of time felt infinite.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” You broke the silence, biting the edges of your words as if you wanted to hide them back inside, voice shaky and heavy against your tongue. 

He hesitated, sharing a seat next to you inside the same sinking uncertainty boat, “Shin-chan’s stronger than you think.” He tried reassuring you, or himself he wasn't sure, but at this point the more he tried to tell himself his friend was still breathing, the more it felt like a lie. Shin-chan was stronger than the two of you thought, but was he really? “He’d be heartbroken to know you had little faith in him.”

At least he got you to chuckle, “I’d be heartbroken to know that I was right.”

You fell into an uncomfortable silence not long after, the stakes of the conversation too high, and if you continued talking you’re sure you’d end up giving Shin up for dead. But like this, maybe you could finally force yourself to get some sleep. The weight of your eyelids had doubled, eyes growing heavier against your will, and though you didn’t want to, just in case something happened while you were unconscious, you knew you’d be of no use without at least a few hours of rest. Plus, you promised yourself you’d never lose any sleep over a guy, ever, and you weren’t about to make an exception for Shinichiro Sano.

Not even an hour in your slumber, you almost threw your phone to the other side of the room as its desperate cry pierced your ears. You’re sure Wakasa almost had a heart attack with how fast straightened up next to you, and it wouldn’t be a surprise if it somehow managed to wake up both Kazutora and Keisuke, although your brother was more of a chronic heavy sleeper.

“What are you waiting for? Answer it!” Feelings heightened in his barely awake, panicked state, the desperation was palpable in his words. And though uncommon for him to act in such an erratic manner, he had bottled everything up the whole night, it was time for the stoic facade to break. 

But, even so, in spite of your friend’s heartbreaking desperation you didn’t move. Not after the third ring or the fourth. You didn’t dare move, staying frozen on the couch, groggy from waking up yet hyper-aware of everything going on around you despite your mild dissociation. The sole thought of moving towards made your brain press against your skull, screaming at you to stop. 

Not answering meant that Shinichiro could stay both simultaneously alive and dead, his fate linked to whether you picked up the call. If you didn’t, maybe he wouldn’t die after all, he’d stay stuck in the unknown limbo of immortality until you made a call. 

But then again, this was your only chance to get an update on his status. And it wasn’t only you anxiously waiting on any sort of news. Wakasa was waiting; Keisuke and Kazutora, although asleep, were as well, and you could only fathom Benkei and Takeomi’s reaction. Mikey and Emma were probably up to date, the hospital must’ve called their grandfather before they reached out to you. And looking back at the people that depended on you, it really wasn't fair to put your own self-indulgent selfishness over the needs of others, was it?

It wasn't. Of course it wasn’t, but after putting everyone before you for as long as you’ve lived, didn’t you deserve to be selfish? At least once, when it pertainted the condition of the unrequited love of your life, didn’t you deserve at least that much?

“Hello?” Wakasa answered through furrowed brows and twitching lips. From the way he spoke, you could tell he was biting on the inside of his cheek to release some tension, putting enough pressure to draw blood. “This is Wakasa Imaushi speaking,

“–can’t get to the phone right now, can’t you just talk to me?” Voice getting progressively louder, he challenged the person on the other side of the call. “He’s my best friend, don’t I deserve to know whether he’s alive or not?!”

Only when his voice broke at the weight of his own desperation did you manage to snap out of your trance, snatching the phone out of his grip, ignoring his glassy eyes as you spoke into the receiver, mumbling your name through a shakily put together voice.

You’re not sure whether you imagined it or not, almost choking on a withered sob, but you could feel the moment your teeth sunk into the skin of your hand, digging hard enough for blood to prickle to the surface, preventing any other noise from coming out. 

With your vision blurry and a tightness in your chest you could not describe, your body had gone completely numb, and yet your nerve endings were scorching under any semblance of atmospheric pressure, forcing you to feel everything, everywhere, all at once.

Had Wakasa not been there to catch you, you’d have collapsed on the ground, a pitiful wailing mess. Tears soaked through the fabric of both your clothes as you held each other close. For what felt like hours, the two of you stayed like that. Face buried against his neck and his against the top of your head, he rocked you back and forth in his arms until your tears stopped mixing themselves with your spit, sharp inhales tuning down into soft sniffles. And though his eyes burned with unshed sorrow, he kept on humming at your unintelligible mumbling.

“See? I told you he was stronger than we thought.” He whispered, though it sounded closer to a whimper, and nuzzled his cheek further against your hair. As if trying to ground himself, he gave you a tight squeeze, still in doubt whether he was trying to convince you or himself. 

Only after a while, once both of your breathing had evened out, did you raise your head up from its hideout, hesitant footsteps catching your attention.

“Nee-chan?” You heard a tiny voice coming from the hallway, a little insecure, as if he didn’t think he deserved a proper response. 

“I’m sorry ‘Tora, did we wake you?” You peeled Wakasa’s arms from your body, rubbing the haziness of your eyes away. He shook his head in response, carefully moving away from the shadows after acknowledging your lack of anger.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

His puffy eyes shimmered red under the soft moonlight coming through the living room window. He took meticulous steps in your direction, side-eyeing Wakasa and still wary of you, not knowing how you would react after his intrusion. Each one was lighter than the other, the wooden floors refused to creek underneath his weight, almost as if he had trained himself to become weightlessly invisible.

Slowly as to not startle him, you stretched your arms in his direction, beckoning him towards you and silently encouraging him to trust you. Even after drying out his tears once you tucked him in bed, holding his hand a little longer while Keisuke slept next to him, you’re sure that wasn’t enough to reassure him you wouldn’t blow up on him. For Kazutora, interacting with most people felt like trying to navigate an active minefield.

Hugging him close to your body, you pulled him on your lap and softly rocked him back and forth; the same way Wakasa had done with you. He nuzzled closer to you, letting himself relax against your touch once he registered you weren't a threat, basking in your warmth. 

The silence the three of you fell under was deafening, uncomfortable even, though you didn't intend for it to be. Kazutora had this question stuck in his throat, sitting heavy against his vocal cords while the bitter taste of bile stained his tongue.

“Is…” he trailed off, still doubting whether he deserved to be asking such a question. “Is Mikey’s brother going to be okay?”

He tensed up at the lack of immediate response. The lack of positive reassurance that he hadn’t completely messed up everyone's lives made the grip he had on your arm grow tighter in fear of you letting go. 

You didn’t. You weren’t planning to do so. Even if nausea piled up at the end of your oesophagus as the conflicting set of emotions brewing at the pit of your stomach, you were sure he needed you as much as you needed him to keep yourself grounded 

“He will.” You brushed your fingers through his hair, lips curled up into a smile once you felt him relax against you once again. “Right now he’s resting, we can visit him in a couple of days, if you’d like.” 

The silence amongst you became heavy once again, but inside Kazutora’s head the cacophony of your words bounced against the thick layers of bone and skin like worthless cries of distress. What he did was inconceivable, and in spite of that you still cared.

“I didn’t mean to,” barely a whisper, the words died out before they could be properly enunciated. They prickled and ached and stung at the walls of his throat. Something he couldn’t name but feel deeply inside his bones stopped himself from vomiting it all out. But mess after mess, like building blocks stacking one on top of the other, they piled up and pulled him down like a ball and chain made out of his own flesh and when he tried to pull at it to set himself free he could feel everything spilling out in a tangled cry. “I didn’t mean to hurt him, I’m sorry!” he cried, clutching onto your shirt and arms, anything he could get a hold of to ensure you wouldn’t leave him alone. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Holding him tightly and shushing his cries, you could do nothing more than let his tears wet at your shirt, mumble that it was okay even if it truly wasn’t; even if the two of you knew it was a lie. The weeping child in your arms did nothing but pull at your heartstring, conflicting feelings arising in your chest. In spite of the fondness you felt for the kid, the same fondness you felt for all of your little brother’s friends, you had unconsciously developed a grudge towards him, bitterness and resentment for hurting Shinichiro. 

His lashes rested against his skin, casting thin shadows under the sunlight streaming through the window. He had always looked peaceful when he was sleeping, chest rising and falling as if following a metronome’s tempo. You can remember taking long summer naps next to him and the rest of your friends, you always being the first one to wake up. Every summer the three of them arrived late to at least five Black Dragon’s meetings because they had slept in. Shinichiro had developed this antsy habit of arriving weirdly on time yet slightly late ever since then, he couldn’t tolerate the idea of letting down whoever was waiting for him; you wonder how he’d react if he knew the shop wouldn’t open today.

So peaceful yet fragile., never in your life would’ve you remotely imagined you’d be sitting next to your best friend’s hospital bed, eyes puffy and droopy while his head laid covered in bandages. The beeping of the monitor filling up the unnecessary silence that wouldn’t have otherwise been there had he been awake. 

Had he been awake, he would’ve talked to you non-stop, retelling everything that went down to the most insignificant detail, sprinkling hyperboles as much as he could just to appear a little cooler in front of you. But it's not like he had to try anyway, to appear cooler, that is, you already thought he was the coolest person in the whole wide world; though you’d go as far as saying he was the coolest person to ever exist. The sole idea made you smile, tears welling up in your eyes as you wondered if he’d blush once he found out how highly you thought of him. 

And of course, had he been awake, he would’ve been worried about everyone but him. He would’ve asked about Mikey and Emma, if they had slept over at the hospital or at home with his grandfather, who he would’ve proceeded to ask about. He would’ve bitten his tongue to prevent himself from even mentioning the economic implications of his stay, but you would’ve been able to read right through him.

Then, had he been awake, he would’ve asked about Keisuke and Kazutora. He would’ve be worried about them, berated you with a flurry of questions, emotions switching from anger to guilt in less than a millisecond; angry at your deplorable encounter with the police, guilty because he was the one that called, and maybe if he hadn’t, then Mikey’s friends wouldn't have gotten in trouble.

He would’ve asked about the shop, if anyone was there watching over it while he was resting in the hospital, deflating a little after finding out it wouldn’t open for the day. He would’ve asked about Wakasa and Benkei and Takeomi, ask if they were aware of what happened, if they had already started making fun of him after finding out a twelve year-old sent him straight to the ER; he would’ve sighed at your response, shaking his head because instead of making fun of him his friends were worried. 

Finally, he’d ask about you. And maybe you would’ve cried or laughed or screamed. Maybe tears would’ve pooled in your eyes, the fact your friend was breathing finally sinking in. Maybe you would’ve giggled at your past unjustified worries because he was here now and you never should’ve doubted him, not even for a second. Maybe you would’ve broken down, fatigue deep in your bones pulling you to the ground until you could do nothing but lay cold and empty and happy on the floor because you had not dared sleep but at least the existence of his consciousness remained.

But the only one speaking was the wind blowing through the curtains, kissing his forehead and messing up his hair just to give you the opportunity to put it back in place through the insecure brush of your fingers

Resting your forehead next to the palm of his hand, you sighed in defeat; maybe you should’ve let him rest alone. You had spent the whole morning next to him, ignoring any hunger cues alerting you it was time for breakfast or lunch or any sort of meal time that could fuel your body from complete exhaustion. Still, even if you wanted to fall asleep, it was like your subconscious wouldn’t let you. Every time you closed your eyes and felt yourself slip into a deep slumber, you were jolted awake to your own dismay. 

Not being able to rest had started to eat away at your own sanity. Only eight hours had passed, but every second felt like a thousand and at this point, you had become a walking contradiction; hungry but unable to eat, tired yet unable to fall asleep. Your body was failing you, unable to react to any sort of external or internal stimuli, and you’re sure wouldn't be able to cry no matter how much you wanted to do so.

But even then, apparently you could still scream.

The weight of his hand on top of your head caught you off guard. It almost made you fall from the chair and smack your head against the bed’s metal skeleton. Maybe if you got a concussion and slipped into a weird pseudo-coma after a harrowing God-knows-how-many-hours-long surgery he’d feel guilty enough to make up for the tachycardia that had your heart beating where your brain should be.

“Hi.” He smiled, words a little slurred as the remaining anaesthesia wore off.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Oh, I see ‘you missed me alright.”

And you did. Even though less than a day had passed since the accident, picturing a whole lifetime without him was enough to permanently alter your brain chemistry. But he was here now, he was back and he was safe and the toothy grin he sported reminded you of home.

“Don’t ‘cha know it’s rude to eat in front of someone who can only chew on ice chips?” He joked, flinching as the nurse adjusted his IV drip.

You were forced to leave the room after a flurry of hospital staff came running at your volatile reaction; Of course, you were quick to reassure that your friend had only woken up and that everything was fine, before leaving for the cafeteria; giving them some space to work on Shinichiro would be good. Plus, not that he was ‘okay’ and you weren’t worrying about his health every second of every minute of every hour, you could address the sudden pangs of hunger poking at your stomach. 

“I’ll buy you dinner once you get out.” You smiled, scooping some of the jell-o into your mouth through your innocent smile. But, again to your dismay, the mischievous glint in your eyes ratted you out. Shinichiro knew that ‘dinner’ meant the cheapest ramen you could find, maybe add an egg to spice it up, and ice cream you’d eat directly from the tub; a long lived tradition between the two of you. “I’ll even add chives this time.”

“Gee thanks,” he mocked, as if he’d rather do anything else than eat stale ramen with you. As long as he got the chance, he’d do anything. He’d probably lick the floor for you—not that he’d ever let you know, but if you asked he would, no questions asked. That’s what happens when you love someone. You’d be willing to do anything and everything for them even if it's irrational. “Can I choose the ice cream flavour at least?”

You hummed, focusing on scraping the plastic spoon against the plastic container in your hands to avoid his gaze. “Only this time though, so don’t get used to it.”

“Everything’s looking good so far, we’ll do another check up in a couple of hours.” 

Right, you were still in here. Talking like everything was seemingly normal made you forget that you were still in the hospital, watching over your post-op, bedridden friend. 

“Lay with me?” he asked, not before the both of you thanked the nurse who excused himself after gathering the remaining equipment. “Please?”

You shouldn’t, something inside your head made sure to let you know even if the urge to hold him close was overpowering. He had just barely woken up after a long emergency surgery, and you taking up space would be of no help for him to get the rest he needed. But the silent plea in the puppy dog eyes you had trained yourself so hard to resist, the subtle pout and the cute dopey-ness that had yet to wear off were far too tempting to resist. 

His little celebratory cheer made you inwardly squeal as you slowly moved to his side, watching him wince in pain while he slowly shuffled himself closer to the edge in a clumsy attempt to make some space for you.

The thumping of his heartbeat reverberated in his chest, the stress melting from out your bones. You couldn’t help but sigh in content once you laid your head on his chest. Now that you were wrapped in each other’s arms, it felt like you could finally rest.

“Tired?” He mumbled against your hair, breaking the silence that had settled in the room as you basked in each other’s presence. You hummed in response, nuzzling your cheek against his body and almost purring like a cat at his warmth. Letting your eyes close involuntarily, you couldn’t help but be lulled to a premature slumber. With how comfortable you looked, and because your obnoxious yawning was too contagious, he wanted to do nothing but follow in your footsteps. 

Instead, his eyes stayed wide open and stuck to the ceiling as if the off off-white paint that covered the concrete was the key to shutting down his brain long enough for sleep to take over. It didn’t matter that his blood had been infused with what felt like at least twenty hundred thousand milligrams of various pain-deafening substances that were sure to knock him out in a matter of seconds, falling asleep seemed to be an unattainable goal.

Whatever they had injected into his body increased his senses’ sensitivity, multiplying it times a hundred instead of dulling them down to nothing. And it didn’t stop at the uncomfortable overtly bright fluorescent lights or the suddenly deafening sound of unoiled wheels from hospital carts being rolled around. It was the way he could feel you barely resting your weight against his body, as if scared the least amount of pressure would make his heart stop. The way he was met with your now dull eyes, almost bloodshot but not quite, sunken with a thick coat of desperation, or fear, or some sort of premature grief, as soon as he woke up. Or how, in spite of only being gone for less than a day, it seemed like you had spent a lifetime unable to exist alongside everything you held dear.

Hyper aware of all those little details and more, it hit him without warning, and suddenly, he could feel the overwhelming urge to cry.

It prickled uncomfortably at his eyes, the skin around his charcoal orbs itching like it was on fire. His mouth felt cottony, smothering his airways and cutting his airflow while his tongue rested uncharacteristically heavy in his mouth with the weight of unsaid words. It broke all his bones at once, leaving him numb on the ground, still like a corpse, and unable to suppress the dooming feeling of his own life spilling from his pores, mixing with his blood until the air around him turned thick and metallic.

In the blink of an eye he had been one step closer to the grave, barely hanging onto a thread of consciousness as the view of his shop turned blurrier and blurrier, and now he was breathing. His lungs had finally regained consciousness and he could feel everything around him overwhelmingly loud and clear and close and real. 

Now awake, he could feel you laying on top of him, almost passed out due to the immeasurable amount of stress he had put you under. And maybe if it wasn’t for his reckless habit of parading around life with his guard lowered or for the lack of proper security measures at the shop—because who on earth would rob him? There’s no way he could be that unlucky. Impossible. Or maybe it was his inability to dodge, to hold his stance in a fight because even if he was strong, without proper technique he was rendered useless and, holy shit– he could’ve died.

He could’ve died and then Manjiro would’ve been forced to grow up way too soon because he would have to take care of Emma and grandpa—although knowing both his siblings, Emma was more likely to turn into the head of the house. And then his friends would’ve been left to grieve his death, make sad speeches about the best moments they had together and, fuck was Takeomi terrible at writing; his speech would just be a big mess of incoherent words stuck together. And what about the shop? Who was he leaving the shop to? And what about Inupi? Inupi was just a kid and he can’t just leave him all alone; he had promised to himself to take care of him the same way he took care of his siblings— fuck, Izana as well. Who was going to look after his brother? He was planning to introduce him to all of you guys soon. The two of you would’ve gotten along so well and,

And you. 

What about you?

You looked beyond heartbroken. Words couldn't begin to describe exactly what somberness mulled deep within that brain of yours. If this is how you reacted to the possibility of him dying, then how would’ve you reacted to him actually doing so?

A choked sob rips through his lips, the sound painful as it breaches its forceful containment.

“Shin–”

“I’m sorry.”

“What…” you trailed off. The strained cry had erased any speck of slumber. For a second you thought you had dreamt it, that your brain had finally gone off the rails and you were hearing imaginary voices. That was until you looked up at him, eyes welling up with unshed tears, body stiff as if to prevent them from falling. “What’re you sorry for?”

“I just remembered the beach trip we were planning for Manjiro’s birthday,” he sniffled, “and I think we’re gonna have to cancel.”

“That’s okay, we can reschedule—”

“Yeah but I– I know he was really excited for it, all his friends were.”

“We’ll talk to them, make sure they understand—”

“And you were excited about it too,” avoiding your eyes even after you had tried to coax him into meeting yours. He felt so far away, almost unreachable despite laying right next to you. “And I know how much you love the beach and I really wanted to go with you even if we were gonna have to chaperone six hyperactive children,

“And, and I know the guys were gonna come with and we had it all perfectly planned out with this huge dorayaki cake thing and now we’re gonna have to cancel because of me—”

“Wait,” you shush him as gently as possible, sitting up and holding his hand tightly between yours. “What do you mean ‘because of me’?”

Almost as if he had never started, your question managed to shut down his rambling like forcefully closing a water faucet. He had this estranged, far-off look darkening his face, eyes glassy, almost as if he were dissociating. It made your stomach churn with anxiety. Never in your many, many, years of friendship had you seen him lose himself like this.

“Because,” he paused, trying to swallow down the knot grappling at his throat, fighting off the urge to tear it off with his bare hands. “Because it's my fault we’re cancelling.”

“I– What’re you talking about?”

He groaned in desperation. Why was this so hard to explain? 

“I’m the one who’s bedridden.” Still dizzy after waking up and to the best of his ability, he tried sitting up, wincing in pain to then give up and lean into his forearms. “I’m the one with random needles poking through my skin, fresh off the ER because my skull was bashed into with one of my own tools and maybe, just maybe, if I had been more aware at the time, I could've avoided the hit.”

“Shin, this wasn’t your fault—”

“But it is! Can't you see?” 

“Shin–”

“D’you know what I did when I heard someone break the glass?” He looked at you expectantly, voice raised in frustration. “After I called the cops; do you?” You shook your head in response, knowing that any attempt to help him calm down would be futile. “I grabbed a wrench. 

“After the operator told me to hide and wait for help because I told them it sounded like more than one person was inside, I grabbed a stupid wrench and decided to face them,

“I decided to face them even if I'm well aware I wouldn’t be able to take two people at once.”

And though he seemed to be dead set on believing that somehow he managed to land himself in the hospital,  you wouldn’t allow him to give himself up to the restless thoughts, no matter how badly he wanted to indulge the bitter part of his brain that had gotten used to putting himself down. 

“Someone hit you from behind,” you tried, “you were ambushed, of course you wouldn't be able to take them on.”

His defeated sigh gave you some sort of uncomfortable comfort. Knowing it made you glad that he had finally given up was a conflicting feeling you wish to never re-examine or experience again.

You sat up, swallowing the foreign relief down, and scooted further up the bed’s backrest. Your elbow rested well above the pillow where he laid, and you couldn't help but use your leverage to gently brush your fingers through his hair, only relaxing once he visibly melted against your touch.

“You didn’t do this to yourself, this wasn’t your fault.” You whispered, fingertips soothing his worries as they ghosted the skin of his forehead. “You’re not responsible for every single thing that goes wrong, no matter how much you try to convince yourself you are.”

He can’t recall a single moment in his life in which he felt like he was relieved from his self-imposed duty—the duty of an older brother, primary caretaker, and practically a parent. Someone who must put everyone’s needs above his own well-being. He’s responsible for everything going on around him, the good, the bad, the neutral, the everything. It only made sense that the break in and the subsequent series of events were, in part, his responsibility. 

And he knew it was irrational thinking because how on earth would he have known what was going to happen? But he couldn’t help it, not when all the consequences of his actions reflected on the bigger picture; everyone relies on Shinichiro Sano, and it was his duty to fulfil. 

“And I promise you no one is disappointed in you. Not a single one of us.” You press your lips against the top of his head, smiling through your own teary eyes at the little hum he involuntarily let out. “We’re all so, so happy that you're awake and talking and I bet Manjiro would rather move his beach birthday party a hundred years from now than lose his brother six days before his birthday,

“The beach is not going anywhere, and neither are we, okay? We are not going anywhere.” 

And you knew it wasn’t not enough. Your words weren’t enough to shut up the swirling negativity spiral in his brain. But at least it was enough to calm him down, enough for him to fall asleep in spite of the dampness kissing his skin; he might have successfully managed to suppress the heart wrenching sobs, but he was not strong enough to hold back the tears that cascaded down his cheeks.

You follow through not long after, head lolling to the side in an uncomfortable position that would for sure leave your neck aching for days. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. There was no dreaming this time. No nightmares or worst case scenarios crafted deep within your subconscious. In spite of the gloomy circumstances, the two of you had fallen asleep. Finally, being in your arms was beyond comforting. Plus, indulging in the rest your body had craved for hours made it easier to regain consciousness once Manjiro decided to jump on the two of you in surprise, never minding the possibility of further injuring his brother by mistake.

Being on the receiving end of his lovable violence hurt more than you thought it would, one of his hands landing straight on your stomach and the other on Shinichiro’s chest, but you couldn’t blame the kid. Based on what Keisuke had confided in you last night, Manjiro had witnessed both his best friends’ arrest as well as his brother being pulled out unconscious on a stretcher out of the shop.

Beyond a muffled apology, he didn’t utter anything else, like his voice had given in. He clung onto Shinichiro’s body like his life depended on it. 

A swift knock on the door caught your attention, though Manjiro didn't even bother looking up, face tucked against his brother’s body, letting himself relax as his brother’s fingers threaded through his blond locks. 

Emma poked her head from behind the wall, hands holding onto the door frame for balance. From where you laid you could see how her eyes were almost as puffy as yours. They were rimmed with a bright red, the same shade that was splotched all over her cheeks and nose. Mansaku stood beside her, holding onto his hat.

You could physically feel the relief washing over Shinichiro the moment he saw his whole family entering the room. He laid lighter next to you, with a brighter smile decorating his lips. It was like his body had melted from hard concrete right into a puddle, your previous conversation seemingly forgotten as a twinkle of warmth returned to his pretty eyes.

Careful not to let Manjiro fall in the dent you were leaving as you stood up, you beckoned Emma over. She cuddled up to Shinichiro, clinging onto him while her soft sniffles filled the silent room, and you swore you had almost started tearing up again at the sight.

Mansaku placed a hand on your shoulder, making you flinch in surprise as he acknowledged your presence. Like a wordless thank you, he nodded at you before stepping closer towards the bed, letting his hand rest on Shinichiro’s, and gently squeezed as if making sure his grandson was truly there. 

In no way shape or form was it the perfect family meetup—a perfect one wouldn’t entail the eldest-grandson-slash-parental-figure stuck in a hospital bed. But by the way they huddled together, Shinichiro pinching Manjiro’s cheeks, the latter not even fighting him off like he usually would, and patting Emma’s head in reassurance, with Mansaku displaying the ghost of a smile as he stood next to his grandchildren, the four of them gave off the feeling of everything being okay.

The familiar warmth between them left you to watch the scene like an outsider in a third-person point of view. It made you feel like you were intruding, messily glued to one of those fancy family portraits. 

In spite of both your families spending the majority of their lives around one another, you weren’t a Sano. No matter how close Keisuke and Manjiro were, no matter how much Shinichiro and you acted like a married couple with at least five children, you were never going to be one. You knew this from the start, but even so, the knowledge didn’t stop the churning of a deeply seeded loneliness inside your stomach. 

You didn’t bother with your goodbyes. Even if you had promised Shinichiro you’d spend the rest of the day together—pretending to be bothered and reluctant when you sealed it with a ‘pinky promise’ to hide the fact you’d willingly play nurse whenever he needed it—something from within told you it was your time to leave, you weren’t that important after all.

The question swirled inside your skull, bitter as it scratched your bones, as you leaned against the walls outside the hospital. At first, you intended to camp out in a waiting room, maybe join them after you had finally calmed down, but instead your legs had taken you right outside, landing you in a secluded area between the building and the many trees surrounding it so you could confidently retrieve the crushed package from your back pocket without disturbing anyone

Your thumb burned as you attempted to roll the sparkwheel of your zippo lighter, the metal forming uncomfortable crevices against your skin. You had to hold back the urge to bite down on the cigarette you had clumsily stuck between your teeth instead of your lips, frustration welling up and threatening to burst from the seams that clumsily held you together. 

Waiting for the uncomfortable itch to burn at your throat, you traced the outline of the red koi fish at the corner of the lighter, eroded after thumbing at it like a nervous tick over the years. Every time you felt your eyes water you made sure to compulsively take another drag, as if the smoke could cloud your thoughts, mixing them up with the familiar nostalgia.

Anyone would think that after incinerating your taste buds with each stick you burn, you’d get used to the taste. Whoever said it gets easier the more you do it was a liar. They were as disgusting as ever, flavour the exact same as those you had tried when you were younger, fooling around with your friends. It first started when Shinichiro and Takeomi brought a couple of cigarettes they had stolen from his grandfather to one of your hang outs. It prompted the three of you to continuously choke and make fun of each other for doing so until there were only mustard coloured butts squished on the floor. 

Neither Takeomi nor you had really enjoyed the experience, but for some reason, Shinichiro was quick to grow fond of the taste. He made sure to carry around a twelve-pack wherever he went, lighting up cigarette after cigarette in strategic places so the smell wouldn’t stick to his hair or clothes. Not soon after, the rather unhealthy habit had extended to the remaining two of you, who couldn’t help but carry your own packs to satisfy your newly birthed cravings. 

Looking back, you’re sure younger-you did that to be a little more like Shinichiro, just like Takeomi, and for other even more childish reasons like appearing more mature and attractive in his eyes; you clearly remember him having a thing for older women for a while. Sure, the two of you were the same age but still, you felt like he didn’t see you like you wanted him to, and the only way for you to change that would be to gain some more common ground with him right? 

So yeah, just like Takeomi, you wanted to be more like Shinchiro, but unlike Takeomi—as far as you know—you had started buying cigarette packets mainly to share back and forth with your best friend in, what you would call, a weak attempt at flirting. 

At least the cringe memory managed to rip you out from the insecurity whirlpool you were being sucked into, making you groan while softly hitting your head against the concrete wall. Thank god Wakasa existed to berate you into stopping the unhealthily embarrassing habit. Back then you were just a kid, but were you being for real? Were you seriously intending to build your whole life around a man to the point you’d indulge in one of the most common and deadliest habits in the world for a slim chance at a high-school romance? Fuck, was younger-you so painfully stupid to even think–

“One of you is already in the hospital, we don't need you to auto-hospitalise.”

The old man’s voice made you jump, fumbling with the cigarette until it fell to the floor. You tried to hide the coughing fit to the best of your ability while frantically stomping on the lit stick laying on the ground. It didn’t matter that you were an adult, you were still terrified of getting caught smoking by the man.

“Would you mind sharing one with me?” He asked, ignoring the way your face morphed into a confused frown. With nimble fingers, you opened your cigarette pack once again, handing him your lighter when he was unable to fetch his from his pockets.

“You still smoke?” You questioned, adding a hasty ‘sir’ once you noticed how informal you had sounded. 

He chuckled in response, taking another puff. “I only stopped doing it in front of the children.”

This time it was your turn to chuckle, playing with the gravel underneath your feet to avoid looking at the man at your slip-up. Still, even with your gaze fixated on the ground you could tell he was looking at you in curiosity. 

“I didn’t mean to laugh it’s just,” clearing your throat, you stumbled with your words, debating in your head whether you should come up with one of your horrid cover ups or tell the truth. “You always smoked around us when we were little, like you didn’t care.”

You thought he would’ve left you alone after that, knowing you were purposely disrespectful towards him. It would’ve been better that way. Then you would’ve been left to wallow in your own self-pity in peace, with no one to stop you from finishing the seven remaining cigarettes. But he didn’t, taking you aback as he stayed rooted right by your side. 

Had you been anyone else, he would’ve called them out. To cover up his own embarrassment or to make up for the disrespect? Not even he could be sure. But he had seen you grow up next to his own grandchildren, sharing your love and caring nature with them along with your mild irascibility and your talent for keeping Shinichiro on a tight leash. He couldn’t help but grow fond of you, even if most of your one-on-one interactions had consisted of you running away from him before he managed to scold you. 

He had only stopped smoking once Manjiro was born, self-awareness finally sinking into his thick skull as he watched his two grandsons play together. No one had questioned him back then, letting him sit on the couch undisturbed while he read the morning paper. It was only after Sakurako had passed away, that he had started to notice the many areas he was lacking, watching both Shinichiro and you fill the gaps in each other’s broken homes while he alienated himself from the responsibility of taking care of his family. The two of you worked so in sync, he would be of no help—or at least that was what he had told himself.

“I wasn’t the best grandfather.”

“You think?”

“I know.” He smiled at your attitude; snappy as always, the only difference was the way you now recoiled in embarrassment at your slip ups. Using his fingers to get rid of the ash, he tapped on the back of the cigarette before taking another drag. “Thank you for taking care of them when I couldn’t.”

Not even a noise of acknowledgement, your vocal chords had closed themselves shut at the man’s sudden mild vulnerability. Out of all the things you expected him to ever say to you, a ‘thank you’ was never on the list. He was always sporting his characteristic cartoonish frown, speaking to everyone in a clipped tone with pointed words.

“You’re more important to us than you think.” He stepped on the cigarette butt. “That is one of the reasons why I can’t let you believe what happened to my grandson was in any way your fault.”

“‘Sorry?” You mumbled in confusion, his words pulling yet another frown onto your face; did you miss any pivotal points in the conversation? How had the conversation switched from his apparent familial issues to you? 

“I know you feel guilty for what happened, even if you weren’t involved.” He sighed, not bothering to look you in the eye before continuing his speech. “You’re not responsible for your brother’s doing.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed in mild amusement, as if that wasn’t something you’ve been trying to tell yourself; all Bajis share their fuckups. But then again, of course he wouldn’t understand. “Easier said than done.”

This time you didn’t try to make up for the way had snapped at him. And bless the man for being able to read the room, because he didn’t push the conversation further. Deep down he knew you needed the outlet; you may have already cried, but all your anger was still pent up inside of you. And after everything you had done for him and his family, it was the least he could do for you. 

“It doesn’t matter what we believe, we’re always responsible for everyone’s mess.” You scoff in dismay. “It’s like we were born for our families to have a provisional caretaker. 

“So thank you for trying to tell me I didn’t break into Shinchiro’s shop, I know I didn’t, but it's still my mess to fix.” The aftertaste of the words laid heavy in your mouth, trickling down your throat like bitter bile tearing through the tissue. You didn’t like how they sounded; they were too impersonal, too selfish. You took a deep breath, holding yourself upright in spite of the pang in your chest. “Not that i wouldn’t have taken care of Shin if someone else had been responsible for what happened, I lo– I– I care too much about him to just leave him be but its just—”

You cleared your throat, “If I had made sure I knew where Keisuke was going or, or if I had actually tried to listen to him when he told me he didn’t know what to give Manjiro for his birthday then maybe– just…” 

You trailed off, unable to finish your sentence without breaking down the walls of the dam you thought you had finally managed to piece back together. You didn’t want the responsibility of rebuilding them back up, you don’t think you’d be able to do it as quickly as you’d want to. But you weren’t venting your sorrows to the wind. Mansaku Sano was still standing next to you, hands locked behind his back as he waited for you to continue, and though he was well aware of the times in which he had to remain quiet, he also knew when it was time to speak up. 

“Then what?”

“Then,” you swallow, “then none of this would’ve happened, and he would’ve been okay.”

Your body itched for another cigarette, pawing at your skull for you to smother down the tears spouting from your eyes, even if the smoke would make your eyes teary once again. But with Mansaku Sano standing next to you, you didn’t dare touch a single one; it didn’t matter that you had just finished spilling your pent up emotions, you drew the line at smoking with Shinichiro’s grandfather. The thought sprouted a melancholic smile on your lips; Shinichiro would have a field day when he finds out what just went down.

The only thing left you had to ground yourself was the cold metal of your lighter, already starting to heat up at the warmth of your skin. You ran your thumb over it once again, the pattern already engraved in your mind. The habit had probably developed out of your need to be comforted by familiarity—of course the lighter was the right candidate, from its colour and texture, size and temperature, you had everything about it memorised like the back of your hand. 

“It’s a really nice lighter.” You hadn't realised you were playing with it until he spoke up; twirling it between your fingers over and over again, flipping it open and close, lighting it up before shutting the lid and extinguishing the flame. 

“Thanks,” you sniffled, and right after you finished speaking, your voice hoarse and tired, you regretted ever doing so. You felt like a child once again; like when your mom tried to comfort you after you had scraped your knee, or when a couple of older middle-schoolers had beaten your friends up. A child like when the day was finally over and you had to go back home from a play-date, or when your favourite toy had fallen inside the river while walking over a bridge. You regretted speaking the minute you had discovered your voice sounded as weak as you felt, and yet, at the mention of your beloved trinket, you felt the warm giddiness wash over your body forcing you to speak. And so, once again like a child, you did. “I got it at a summer festival, Shin got it for me.”

“I thought you said you wanted to come visit him.”

For a minute Keisuke didn’t speak. He looked straight at the ground, feet planted on the floors like roots had grown out of him as he held your hand.

Earlier this morning he had clung onto your waist while angry tears rolled down his cheeks. The moment he caught sight of you putting your shoes on the genkan he had broken into a run, letting his body smash against yours, and almost making you lose your balance. Both you and your mom had tried your hardest to calm him down for what felt like hours but to no avail. He persisted, begging for you to let him accompany you to the hospital. 

Outside of Shinichiro’s room, it was a whole other story. All of a sudden he had decided he didn’t want to see him eye to eye. His reaction made you internally groan in frustration. Had you listened to your own gut feeling telling you Keisuke wasn’t ready to come with you, it would’ve saved him the stress of making a choice for himself. Instead, you were too weak to his puppy dog eyes and wobbly pleas, and now his eyes had started to water as he tried to hold back his own hiccups. 

“I promise Shin-nii isn’t angry at you,” you cooed, kneeling down to the floor and looking up at him. When had he gotten this tall? When had he grown this much? Were your efforts enough to shape him into a decent person? “and if you truly don't feel comfortable we can go home, I promise I won’t get angry.”

He rubbed at his teary eyes with his free hand before nodding at you, trailing behind you as you stood up and knocked on the door.

“Hey!” you poked your head into the room with a smile, one that faltered as you tried to keep your mouth from falling open in awe once you noticed how the sunlight streaming from the window kissed every inch of Shinichiro’s skin as he quietly read the book you had given him as a joke. He looked up at you, pearly whites all up for display, and mumbled a soft mumbled a soft ‘hey’ right back at you; he looked so pretty he could be mistaken for an angel. “I brought Keisuke with me, ‘that okay?”

He hummed in response, marking the page he was reading before setting it aside. Even after the events that took place at the shop, you knew he wouldn’t mind your brother visiting—he had a soft spot for him after all. The verbal confirmation was more for Keisuke’s sake, who prompted by it, let go of your hand and walked into the room, a tinge of fear staining each step he took. 

Shinichiro grinned, gently waving his way. And though the both of you had always found some sense of comfort in the warmth of his smile, it took less than a second for Keisuke to burst into tears. Sobs wracked his body as he stood frozen in the middle of the room, frantically drying out his cheeks with his forearms in vain. Tears kept pouring from his caramel eyes down to his cheeks until they stained his striped shirt.

At the sight of his distress, Shinichiro tried standing up as quickly as possible, almost ripping off his tangled IV. Thankfully, you managed to stop him before he could; the moment your brother had started crying you were already by his side wrapping your arms around his fragile figure.

Much like you had done the past few days, you combed his hair with your fingers while shushing his cries. It had become almost like a habit, Keisuke running to you in the middle of the day, hugging you close while you dried his tears for him. You’d think he’d ran out of tears by now, but something you didn’t take into account was how similar the two of you were, always feeling everything too much, all at once.

“You’re okay,” you whispered into his hair, “you’re okay, and Shin-nii’s okay, see?” you asked him, holding his tear streaked cheeks and motioning his face to meet your gaze, waiting for his breathing to even out before you coaxed him into looking at Shinichiro. “We’ve got you, the two of us, we've got you.”

He smiled at him once again, though you could see a twinkle of sadness in his eyes, as extended one of his hands for him to take. Warily, he warmed up to the invitation, wiping the remaining tears from his face before dragging his feet to the edge of the bed, asking if he could sit with him in a very un-Keisuke nature; it was unusual for him to ask before acting on his impulses.

Shinichiro softened once he felt Keisuke nuzzling his cheek against his chest. He ran his fingers through his dark locks, and as he did so you couldn’t help but think how his hair kept getting longer and longer with each day; hopefully no one from the school office would call you letting you know it was time to chop it off once classes were back in session.

In between hushed whispers, they talked amongst each other for a while. At first, Baji kept giving one word responses, still insecure in spite of your reassurance, but it wasn’t long before he started to loosen up, giggling between sniffles at Shinichiro’s questions and mocking his ‘honorary-brother’ back with teary jabs.

It was a solid dynamic they had been able to build after years of trust and consistent interaction; your two favourite boys extending their love to each other like they were flesh and blood. In that way, the two of them were similar, fiercely loyal and willing to give themselves up for those they loved. You were grateful that Shinichiro was there for Keisuke as he grew up, unknowingly making up for everything you lacked.

The mumble of your name caught your attention, popping your nostalgia blown bubble. Keisuke and Shinichiro alike were beckoning you over, the latter extending his arm as the two of them scooted over and patted the free space next to him.

He held your hand like you were a princess stepping onto a carriage, gingerly helping you keep your balance as you toed-off your shoes. You let out a sigh once you plopped yourself on the bed, letting his arm curl around your shoulders while he kept your hands interlocked, rubbing the skin with his thumb. In spite of the giddiness warming your stomach, you forced yourself to roll your eyes in response when he teasingly asked if you were comfortable, pretending to be bothered by his apparent clinginess 

“‘Your sister made you try the jell-o cups already?” he asked Keisuke, the younger boy looking up at him through puffy eyes and wet lashes, and once he shook his head in response he whistled, turning towards you as if disappointed. “You haven’t made him try ‘em yet?” 

“‘Came straight to see you.” You brushed off, pretending you didn’t feel his body tense beside you and smiling to yourself in subtle victory when he gulped.

“You should’ve gone to the cafeteria first.” He scolded jokingly, clicking his tongue as if that would help him hide his blushing cheeks that hurt from his own shy affection. Soon after, he switched his attention to your brother, ruffling his hair before speaking, “Remember those jell-o cups you used to share with Manjiro and Haruchiyo? The ones they sold at the konbini?”

“Yeah, but they don't have ‘em anymore,” Keisuke pouted, brows furrowed in thought. His sharp canines poked at his bottom lip, tilting his head up at Shinichiro and grinning. “Mikey almost fought the cashier guy when we found out they stopped selling them!”

“Yeah, I remembered that.” He chuckled, recalling the time he had heard the employee complain about Manjiro’s sudden aggression on one of his morning milk runs. “But guess what?” he sat on his forearms, dragging out the silence to build anticipation. He waited for the two of you to raise your heads from his chest, sharing an evident impatience as you urged him to continue. He took a deep breath before grinning once again. “They still sell ‘em over here.”

“No way! Really?!” The boy stood up in less than a second, forcing you to grab onto the neck of his t-shirt to prevent him from falling flat on his ass while he cried in glee, tears seemingly forgotten. Those jell-o cups in particular had been a staple of everyone’s childhood; you had been eating those snacks for years and years. You can clearly remember the clear disappointment in his face when he told you they had been discontinued, his somberness rubbing off on you.

“Yeah!” Shinichiro exclaimed back, scooting closer to your brother and placing one of his hands on the bed railing behind your brother, aiding you in your task of preventing Keisuke from falling to the ground. The memory had suddenly made its wake into his consciousness after mulling over ways to comfort your brother and coming up empty handed, until he had suddenly turned to his bedside table where an empty plastic cup sat with a flimsy disposable spoon. “Manjiro and Emma got a bunch from the cafeteria to take home, you could do the same.”

You were almost taken aback by the speed he used to turn his face towards you, surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash before he asked you with as much excitement he could muster, “Can we?! Please, please!?”

His pleading words made his bronze eyes sparkle under the fluorescent lights and though you know you shouldn’t, you can’t find it in yourself to say no. You smiled and nodded without a shadow of a doubt that you’d do anything in your power to keep the toothy grin you missed on his lips.

“Does that mean I can go get one now?” He pleaded, tilting his head and yet again putting on display the best puppy-dog eyes he could muster. “Please? I haven't had one in years, I wanna know if they’re the same as I remember.”

“Knock yourself out.” Shinichiro said before you could respond, ruffling Keisuke’s hair before the latter jumped down, ignoring the fact you didn’t give him a proper response before running off to the cafeteria.

You sighed unimpressed, turning towards the man beside you and letting yourself slump against his figure. His chuckle only made you roll your eyes.

“What? Were you planning to say no to him?” 

He knew you too well for your own good.

“Shut up.” With a gentle push you force him back down on the bed, elbowing him lightly in the process and pressing your head back against his chest. You almost hum in satisfaction when he let himself fall back down without resistance, caving in under your touch. “I could’ve said no.”

“Yeah, right.” This time, he was the one rolling his eyes, mocking your mannerisms and chuckling when you smiled, hoping the apparent ‘nonchalance’ would mask his now increased heart rate, and the faster beating coming from the vital sign monitor.

“I could’ve!” You tried to sit up in retaliation, pretending to be annoyed, yet you didn’t resist when he pulled you back down. He held down his own giggling once he felt you cuddling up closer to his side, tracing random patterns on his dotted hospital gown and realising too late how close both your hands were. The proximity made you nervous; even if the two of you were practically laying one on top of the other, holding hands felt like a foreign act of intimacy. 

Subtly enough, you tried reaching out for the tip of his fingers, moving what seemed like less than a millimetre per minute. Soon enough, he took notice of your plan; hesitantly, he moved his own towards you, letting your fingertips rest against each other for a couple of seconds, like he was asking for your permission, before interlocking his fingers with yours.

“You really can’t stay away from me, can you?” he teased, gaze focused on your entwined hands through his lashes as he felt too shy to look anywhere near your face. It seemed that hiding the pink-ish blush staining his cheek had become his number one priority; you were so close, so everywhere, he wouldn’t want it any other way, even if the closest he’d get to you would be through friendly teasing, bordering the line of ‘definitely, a 100% and unmistakably platonic’ flirting. 

In your mind, you were desperately scavenging for any semblance of a comeback, preferably witty and with the same energy he was giving you.Instead, all you did was sigh.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

You blamed the gusty confession on a moment of weakness, likely born out of your depleting energy mixed with the way his hand fit against yours like two perfectly carved puzzle pieces. You weren’t sure why you had said what you did, the way you did; voice softening as the longing you had suppressed your whole life coated every syllable that rolled down your tongue. 

He hummed in response, giddy and satisfied, before backtracking in confusion. The lack of sarcasm or annoyance lighthearted mockery caught the two of you off-guard, though it seemed to have a bigger impact on him as his body tensed up for a moment. If you were to look up at him, you’d probably see his head tilted to the side, with warm cheeks and the ghost of a frown clouding his features.

And that’s exactly why you don’t. 

Not like this; you wouldn't allow yourself to do so, wouldn’t even dare. Not when the stakes were this high, multiple worst outcomes served on a silver platter for you to choose because once you look up at him he would notice the way you see him, like he hung up each individual constellation up in the sky on his own and then all of it would be over for you.

For the both of you. 

“Do you, uh,” the slight shake in his voice made you gulp, like you had an inkling of a very possible question he could ask. Maybe this would finally be the end of your friendship which, to your own dismay, could be very easily broken by other things that weren’t death itself, “do you know if Keisuke has talked to Manjiro yet?”

You cleared your throat, holding back the sigh of relief, and shook your head. “I don’t think he knows how.”

“He’s scared?” 

“I think so,” you pondered, “they’ve been friends since forever, I think he’s scared of losing…him.”

Knowing that both you and your brother’s situation overlapped in so many ways felt weird; both Baji siblings were scared to lose their respective Sano brothers. It sounded funny, almost cute, like both Bajis and Sanos were meant to stick together generation after generation. You would’ve giggled at the thought, explain the parallels between the two relationships to Shinichiro and laugh at the silliness of it, yet the fear that had taken possession of your body the last couple of days lingered at the thought. 

Scared of losing him.

You almost choked on the words sitting heavy in your mouth, like you had confessed to a crime. Had you been alone, maybe they would’ve urged you to cry.

“Hey, ‘you okay?” You hadn’t realised that the worry had bled onto your face, dripping down your cheeks and coating your eyelashes with sorrow until he spoke up, tearing you away from your trance. But you couldn’t help it, the lingering torture you endured at the hands of your brain replaying past events, from the bailing your brother out of jail as he sobbed to having Wakasa answer the call for you, Kazutora crying in your arms and Shinichiro blaming himself for his own accident, the more you felt like losing yourself in his embrace, tightening your hold on his hand. “You left me there for a second I thought–”

“No.”

“What?”

“No, I’m–” you stuttered, “I don’t think I’m okay, I–”

Rejection after rejection, you’ve seen what felt like an infinite amount of his confessions go sideways, and yet he handled each and every one of them with grace. You’d attribute his resilience to the amount of first hand experience he’s had with it, and though at first it had taken a big toll on him. By now, rejection was nothing to him. He could make a fool of himself in front of anyone and he really wouldn’t care; he has told you so himself. 

But you were not Shinichiro, and you could never be him.

You were resentful and impulsive, oftentimes reacting way before you think. You were impatient and whiny, though you tried your best to suppress that particular trait to no avail. You were a selfish, self-destructive being that somehow managed to keep the insecure neediness brewing inside on the down low. 

And you could go on. You could go on because you were stubborn, volatile, melodramatic and a part of your brain really does think you were just setting yourself up for failure listing every single negative character trait that comes to mind. But it didn’t matter because that just further proves you're not Shinichiro Sano, that you were never going to be Shinichiro Sano because you were weak.

Too weak to answer the call, too weak not to try and escape uncomfortable situations, too weak to hold back the urge for a smoke, too weak to forgive Kazutora, too weak to confess your feelings for your best friend even after bawling your eyes out at the thought of a life without him.

Too weak, too weak, too weak. 

Being weak is all you’ve ever known. 

The thoughts poured and they wouldn’t stop, crashing against each other like the same bumper carts you rode along with Shinichiro at the funfair with your siblings. Back then, you were all smiles and laughter, and right now you wondered if the two of you would’ve held hands if it wasn’t for Emma sitting in the middle of you both.

And he was so warm next to you, not pressuring you to clarify whatever word-vomit you just spewed instead of a proper comeback. So sweet as he squeezed your hand to let you know he was there to help in whichever way he could to lull your worries to sleep. So kind as he took care of you when you should be the one taking care of him. Always so him.

You had no right to be a coward, at least not in front of one of the strongest and bravest people you’ve ever met. It wasn’t fair. Listing your flaws from the top of your head would never justify your body preventing itself from spilling the truth just so you could try and grasp at the fragile strings of self-pity to sew yourself back together as unspoken words necrotize your tongue. 

The same way you wouldn’t dare look at him, you wouldn’t dare stay away from him. It’d kill you just to try. So fuck every martyrish thought in your head, fuck the burned cigarette butts stained with indirect kisses, fuck the many nights the two of you spent stargazing in his garden, the infinite amount of chocolates you bought him for valentine’s day to make up for the emptiness of his locker; and the countless times he had dropped everything he was doing for the chance to spend just a couple of minutes with you. Fuck the worn out red koi fish engraved on your lighter and the possibility of breaking the promise you two made of never straying away from each other.

“I can’t stay away from you,” you took a deep breath, “I think I’d rather die than live a life without you,

“The sole idea of losing you almost sent me over the edge, and even after you were out of surgery I was a mess,” you stopped yourself again, giving yourself the chance to swallow down the knot in your throat; it didn’t work. “I was going insane without being able to talk your ear off because even when I talk about something you couldn’t give a shit about you still give a shit, you give so many shits when it comes to me, too many,

“You’re loyal and gentle and charming and you’re always smiling, and it's like, it's like you're absolutely everything good and even then you genuinely have no idea how wrapped around your finger I truly am, 

“And I don't think I’ve ever properly thanked you for existing because I don't think I’d be the same person I am right now if it wasn't for you, and even if I'm not perfect, I- I wouldn't trade myself for a better version if that meant you wouldn’t be in my life.

“So, yeah, I guess you’re right, I don’t think I can,” you let your shoulders sag, like the confession finally burned years upon years of cover-ups and excuses and fake scenarios you had come up with before bed stored in the darkest depth of your brain. “Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to stay away from you.”

Pensive, he melted further against the pillows, letting his muscles melt at the sound of his own sighing. Even if you weren’t directly looking at him, you hear his smile reverberating throughout his body, and the sole idea of him possibly reciprocating your feelings made you impossibly giddy; a little too giddy. It was easy, after all, to get your hopes up once you lose yourself in him, his warmth and comfort. And for less than a second, you can see your hypothetical future with him pass right in front of your eyes, forcing you to accept a premature victory. But as the silence between the two of you started to drag itself out, you couldn't help but reluctantly welcome the acrid heartbreak tearing through your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you tensed up, “I shouldn’t have–”

“No, no, it's–,” he blurted out tongue tied as if your words had snapped him out of a trance, mirroring the same giddiness you had displayed with the same hint of hesitancy, “no one has talked about me like that, I guess it just caught me off-guard.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I don’t– don’t think I'd be able to stay away from you either– not that I want to, of course it's just– sorry give me a minute.” Looking off to the side, he tried to collect himself, clearing his throat and pinching his cheeks, the skin already stained with all sorts of shades of pink. For him, it was inevitable not to become all shy and flustered, the least he could do was bite his tongue so as not to break into a fit of giggles, prevent himself from swinging his legs and twirling his short strands of hair like a lovesick middle schooler. All because of you. “Just, um, just to be clear before I look like an absolute fool, not that I don't look like an absolute fool on a daily basis, but this is a confession, right?” 

You raised your head up in confusion, tilting your head and furrowing your brows. Had you not been so baffled by his self-explanatory question you would’ve fawned over this version of him, giddy and soft and in love with you because just by looking at his eyes you could tell he was looking at you like you hung the moon up in the sky—it was easy to decipher; after staring at him the exact same way countless times, you were bound to familiarise yourself with such display of devotion. And had he not looked this adorable, you would’ve teased him for being so painfully and hopelessly dense, but you didn’t have it in you to do so, only managing to nod in response.

“So you like like me?” He continued, waiting for your reassurance, either a nod or a smile, or any signal that he was right. “So you are in love with me?”

“I mean, I wouldn't say I'm in love but if that's what makes you sleep at night.” The more you stared at his face, the dimples on his cheeks, the creasing of his eyes at your words and the giggle he couldn’t help but contain, the wider the smile creeping at his lips became.

“Will you say it then?” He prodded, moving closer to you, now unable to hide the twinge of pink that grew what seemed like a thousand shades per second.

“I don’t know,” your legs innocently dangled from the side of the bed, trying to win back control of the situation by cutting down on your proximity, and sitting up properly from your half-lying position, “will I?”

“Please?” he begged, cupping one of your cheeks with the palm of his hand and pulling you closer until you could feel each other's breaths. His skin was warm against yours, the roughness of his palm from working non-stop at the shop offset by the tenderness he carried around for you. 

And though you wanted to drag this on, enjoying the back and forth, you were so whipped for this man that you couldn’t stop your nonchalant act from crumbling as soon as you heard him once again let out a shy giggle after he nudged your nose with his.

“I love you.” 

Voice dreamy and saccharine sweet, like confessing to your lifelong desire, you whispered, and just before your lips touched, through lidded eyes and uneven breath he whispered back ‘and I love you’. 

After his own confession, you were unable to pay attention to anything that wasn’t him. All your senses were muted as his soft lips gilded against yours. The taste of the honey chapstick you applied almost compulsively melted against his tongue, and he wondered if like him, you could still faintly taste the strawberry chapstick you had gifted him a while ago; the same one he hadn’t stopped using since, going as far as asking the hospital staff to retrieve it from the pockets of the jeans he was wearing the day of the accident for him.

He bit back a whimper when he felt you bite down gently on his bottom lip, unable to ignore the way you smirk against the kiss once your hand makes its way up to the side of his neck to rest on his pulse point, in the perfect position to feel his heart doing somersaults underneath your touch. It made him want to melt right against you; the more you wandered down his body, the bigger the urge to hold you grew.

His calloused yet delicate fingers traced your skin, running from the apples of your cheeks down to your chin, coaxing you to fully give into him as he traced the tip of his tongue against your lips. He could feel himself grow hard once you gave him permission to enter, basking on the hidden whine you let out at the feeling of the warm muscle enveloping your whole body, drool pooling at the corner of both your lips.

Away from your face, he trails his hands slowly down your torso confidently ghosting the skin before the facade is broken the moment he almost freezes up once he gets to your chest. The blush on his cheeks deepened as you took notice of his apparent nervousness, laughing it off before he continued his path down to your hips, 

He was sure he was ready to die right here in your arms the moment you softly suck on his tongue, his eyes almost rolling towards the back of his skull as you hands grazed his clothed dick. The teasing touch made him groan, the vibrations against your lips feeding the urge to get closer to him. And almost like he had read your mind, you shivered at the tight grip of his hips guiding you over lap until you were resting flush against him.

“‘Want you so bad.” He panted in between giggles, nudging your noses together and pecking your lips over and over again. You barely managed to catch your breath between his kisses; when he leaned away you pulled him in, and when you did so he tried to follow the path of your lips until they were once again interlocked with his. The two of you ignored the satisfying burn of your lungs like the feeling of your bodies close against each other was good enough of a replacement for oxygen itself. “–Waited so long for this.”

He pulled you down a little harder against him, bucking his hips against your. Mewling into the kiss, you wrapped both your arms around his shoulders, perhaps taking too much enjoyment in the minimal friction against your core. The sensation of him rutting desperately against you forced you to meet his attempts for more with an equal amount of want.

“You feel so good.” you cooed, whimpering as he sucked at the skin behind your ear. “Shin, Fuck, you’re so good at this.”

Before he could stop himself, he was groaning at the praise, peppering kisses along your jaw and neck and refusing to come back up to meet your lips to hide the raging blush tinting his skin, spreading from his cheeks up to his ears.

“You like that? Like it when I say you're doing a good job?”

He hummed, though it sounded more like a whimper, and waited no time to pull your face back against his, connecting your lips again in a messy kiss, to, presumably, stop you from teasing him. He took the opportunity to indulge himself, once again tracing the outline of your lower lip with his tongue and nipping at the supple skin in retaliation.

In spite of your own reluctance, you broke the kiss first, finding the way he tried to chase your lips with his eyes half-lidded in pleasure, indescribably cute. You took a minute to fully take in this version of him, his breath uneven and with a thin sheen of sweat making some of his black locks stick to his forehead. His lips were puffy, glistening with saliva as they part involuntarily in an enrapturing appetite. 

He looked so pretty like this, you didn’t think you’d have it in you to control yourself. 

Once you had lowered the sheets covering his legs, one of your thumbs proceeded to draw circular patterns on his exposed thigh, chuckling at the way he flinched before relaxing against you. Gently ghosting your fingernails over his skin, you hiked up his hospital gown until you had full access to the band of his boxers, toying with the elastic but doing nothing aside from that.

“You want to do this here?” He pulled back, eyes wide and dazed with need yet frazzled at your sudden boldness, as if nearly dry humping in a hospital wasn’t bold enough. His hands played with the hem of your shirt, sending shivers down your spine every time his fingers grazed your skin. He looked like a deer caught in headlines, a way cuter version of Bambi, and you couldn’t help but nuzzle your nose against his cheek before kissing him gently, once, twice, thrice.

“Only if you want to.” 

“I do,” he swallowed, clearing his throat to keep himself lucid as he felt the tips of your fingers breaching the hem of his underwear, cold against the warmth of the covered skin. “Fuck, I really do, I need you s’bad I–”

“You fucking disgust me.” 

Like a pair of surprised kittens, the sudden interruption had the two of you jumping away from each other, almost falling off the bed while desperately trying to pull the sheets back into place. In turn Shinichiro tried helping you regain your balance, grabbing your arm before you crashed against the floor, nearly pulling down one of the hospital monitors in the process. 

“Don't you know how to knock?” You bit back, taking his comment more personally that you should’ve. 

“Didn’t think it’d be necessary.” Wakasa crossed his arms in front of his chest, shifting the lollipop in his mouth from one side of his cheek to the other. Standing beside, Benkei held a teddy bear and a lavender flower arrangement, mixed along with baby’s breaths and eucalyptus. If anyone had to guess, the bewildered expression he sported only meant he’d rather have his friend die than see whatever blasphemous activities you were performing. But then again, he probably expected to see his friend bedridden and weak instead of the free front row tickets to your ‘dry humping a post-concussed Shinichiro’ expectale. “‘Thought the worst thing we’d come across was him sleeping.”

“Why did you think coming across me sleeping d’be the worst case scenario!?” Shinichiro butted in lightheartedly, though you wouldn’t rule out the possibility of him actually being serious. “Are you saying I look ugly when I sleep?”

“No, you dumbass,” Wakasa deadpanned; even with his usual unbothered facade you could tell he was grateful for the ordinary banter, questioning his stupidity with a hidden smile. “How’re we gonna talk to you if you’re asleep.”

“Wait, what happened? I didn't see,” Takeomi joined in, panting as he held a couple of balloons that had ‘it's a boy!’ written all over them. “These two assholes left me while I was getting something to eat.”

The two of you groaned at the sound of his voice, pressing the heels of your hands against while Shinichiro hid his eyes behind his forearm. Even if you wanted to be lowkey about the whole situation, sweep it under the rug to avoid facing the embarrassment over again, you knew you wouldn't be able to hide it from anyone, not even Takeomi, and he wasn’t the brightest. 

Shinichiro’s hair was a tousled mess and his skin was dusted pink. Both of your lips were puffy, glistening under the fluorescent lights, and your breathing was uneven still. No matter how much the two of you tried to regulate it back to normal, it seemed to follow the rapid rhythm of each other’s heart beat.

“Nothing happened.” You grumbled, willing to attempt a lousy cover up in spite of your friend’s, including Shinichiro, giggling. Once he found out, it would be impossible for him to let it go. But even so, it took a lot of effort not to join in your friends’ laughter; it was funny to fuck with him—not literally—his puzzled frown as he borderline begged for someone to let him only feeding in your teasing. Still, once he found out. “We were just talking.”

“Yeah, talking about fuck–”

“Wakasa!” “Dude!” 

The two of you exclaimed as the blond tilted his head to the side, making his earring jingle. A teasing smile stretched on his lips as the four of you waited for Takeomi to process what was just mentioned. Knowing the speed in which the neurons within his brain transported information, it’d take a little while.

To everyone’s surprise, it only took him a couple of seconds to do so. You could visibly see it in his expression, morphing into one of amazement the minute realisation hit him straight in the face

“Did’ya– No way, you finally fucked?” And though his lack of decorum made the two men beside him laugh louder and the two of you groan as if to muffle his voice, he paid your reaction no mind other than using it as an affirmative response to his question. “No way, congrats dude! Who would’ve thought you needed to almost die just to lose your virginity.”

“I hate you so much.” Shinichiro playfully complained, a stupid grin threatening to make its way onto his lips disproving his claim. Seeing his four best friends standing around him right after waking up from what could’ve been a tragic accident made him feel all sorts of things he found himself unable to explain. It almost made him want to cry once again—happy tears this time.

“Anyway, now that you’ve got someone to stay with,” you changed the topic, interrupting yourself to fix the stray hairs sitting on top of Shinichiro’s head before caressing his cheek with your thumb, “I’ll go check whatever Keisuke’s doing, I‘ll be back in a sec.”

“Wait no, don’t go…” You had to resist the urge to give him another quick peck at the way he dragged out the ‘go’, and instead, grabbed your phone from his bedside table to respond to the missed messages coming from your mom. “Don’t leave me with these people.”

“Very funny Shitty-chiro.” Takeomi fake laughed, letting himself fall on one of the chairs nearby, stretching his arms before fully slumping against the backrest and looking at you. “But’s fine, I left Haruchiyo in charge, Senju’s with them as well.”

“Well that doesn't make things any better, does it.” At your snapping voice, he raised his hands up in surrender, as if the idea of letting a 13 year-old in charge of two 12 year-olds didn't have multiple flaws. Doing a 180° turn, you turned towards Shinichiro, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be quick, promise.”

“Wait, before you go,” Wakasa interrupted, stopping you from slinging your bag over your shoulder. He took the bright red candy out of his mouth with a pop, using it as a little wand to emphasise his speech, before he continued. “Who confessed first?”

“Yeah!” Takeomi sat at the end of his seat, gaze switching from Shinichiro to you and vice versa. “How did Shinichiro confess to ya’?”

Again, faster than the usual processing speed of his cognitive skills, he managed to string the hints together, gasping at the silence that settled between the two of you as you tried to silently decide who should say what. Shinichiro opened his mouth like a fish, as if trying to come up with something to appease his friend’s reaction before giving up and averting his eyes, pointing at you with his thumb.

Wakasa’s smirk only grew the more Takeomi seemed to sink back into the chair in dejection. “‘gotta pay up Omi-omi.”

The ruffling of bills and the complaints birthed out of the apparent loser’s mouth distracted you momentarily. You were about to laugh at the scene in front of you, two of them waiting with their hands stretched out as Takeomi reluctantly placed the wrong amount in his palm, grunting when Wakasa noticed it wasn’t the amount they had agreed on, before it clicked in your head.

“Pay up,” you mumbled to yourself, “Pay up, pay up? Wait, did you three bet on us?”

“Kinda,” Benkei sent you a reassuring smile, counting the hundred yen bills that were handed to him once again; when it came to money matters, Takeomi wasn’t someone you could trust. “We bet on who’d confess first.”

“And you didn’t bet on me?!” Shinchiro exclaimed, a little louder than he intended.

“Sorry man, ‘didn't have faith in you,” Wakasa folded the five crinkled bills in half before stashing them in his back pocket. “After your failed attempt I kinda accepted you weren’t going to win, Benkei was always betting against you, though.”

“But ‘ya admit it!” Takeomi jumped from his seat, waving his now empty wallet in the air like he was fencing with the worn out leather rectangle. “He did confess first!”

“Hell no, it only counts if it was a successful confession.”

“So the bet wouldn’t count if one of them got rejected? What's the point then!”

Wakasa groaned, pressing his temples with his thumb and middle finger, “It only counts if the two of them understand whatever was done was a confession.”

“But the lighter was him confessing!”

“Takeomi, that was the vaguest confession to ever be seen by the entirety of mankind.”

“What confession are you talking about…?” You interrupted the animated discourse with a question. In spite of enjoying the banter between your friends, you remained in the dark. Shinichiro had never confessed to you, or even remotely tried to do so. You were a hundred percent certain, after all, had he done so you were sure you’d be dating by now. 

“The lighter you always carry around,” Takeomi responded, “the fish one.”

Instinctively, you patted the pocket where your zippo lighter sat, carefully trailing your thumb lightly over the red imprints as you pulled it out. It looked almost exactly the same way as it did during the summer festival. The only difference, aside from the way the metal reflected the cold hospital lights instead of fireworks and paper lanterns, were the couple of dents on the metal and the previously well-defined engraving softening over the years.

“S‘not just a fish,” Shinichiro chuckled, letting himself fall back on the bed while hiding his flustered state behind a seemingly lame explanation. At this rate, he was sure his skin could be permanently stained a pinkish-red. “It's a red koi fish.”

“Wait,” you snapped your head from the lighter to him, letting your mouth fall open in surprise, “you, you meant that?”

“What do you…mean?” Shinichiro poked, voice twisting and forcing the ‘mean’ to come out strained. Watching your shoulders tense up and, somehow, simultaneously relaxed made him wary of the whole situation, like the universe itself was playing a prank on him. And though unlikely, he wasn't ruling out the possibility of random cameras popping up from behind the door or through the window or maybe from underneath his bed with a huge poster reading ‘you’ve been pranked!’.

He had given you that lighter seven years ago, the engravings were probably faded by now, there was no way…

“Red koi fish mean romantic love, don’t they?” 

It took him a couple of seconds to properly run your words through his brain, before his eyes widened in amusement mixed with the mild disappointment his seventeen year-old-self had forced himself to ignore after his confession had gone wrong. “You knew!?” 

“Uh…yeah? We learned that in literature class.” You shrugged with a sheepish smile in an attempt to tame down the laughter that had started bubbling in your throat at his mortified reaction. He groaned at your response, throwing one of his arms over his eyes, the sound mixing with a cry as the movement pulled on the IV digging into his arm.

He licked his lips a couple of times and rubbed the skin above the needle in an attempt to soothe the ache. Stalling, he was trying to buy time before he asked anything that could potentially hurt him. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Aside from flustered and pouty, slightly amused at his own failed attempt, he appeared to be a little sullen, perhaps even sad. It was obvious to you, though you didn’t know why; maybe he was blaming himself for losing the opportunity to get in a relationship with you way earlier. Or, maybe he blamed himself for putting any sort of pressure on you; back then, he wasn’t a hundred percent sure how you felt about him, so maybe you had purposely ignored his advances because you didn't want him. But that couldn’t be it, could it? Less than a couple of minutes ago the two of you were confessing your love for each other, so if that were to be the case, when did your feelings for him start to change? “Did, uh, did you not like me back then?”

Looking at his hopeful yet gloomy expectant features, he appeared so small and vulnerable in front of you, you wanted to give him a hug. The question had visibly caught you off-guard, your brows furrowing as soon as he was done talking. Who would’ve thought that a seemingly innocuous event from your past would come back transformed into an apparent irrational insecurity. It prompted yet another silence upon the two of you. And though it felt eternal, it lasted only a couple of milliseconds, interrupted by both your annoyance and Takeomi munching on the chips he bought at an inflated price on one of the hospital’s vending machines. 

“Do you mind?” You turned towards the obnoxious mistake you had chosen as a friend, snickering as he shrugged in questionable indifference, mumbling a muffled ‘go on’ before motioning you two to continue with a shake of his hand. But at the lack of positive feedback from anyone in the room he stopped himself to explain.

“What? It’s like watching a live romcom,” he shoved more chips into his mouth, “The ones we watch every friday, ‘ya know what I mean?”

“Okay,” Benkei clapped both his hands together, gathering everyone’s attention before he pulled Takeomi into a standing position and pushed both him and an amused Wakasa towards the door. “Seems like all of us are hungry, we’re heading to the cafeteria real quick, we’ll send Baji back up when we’re done, sounds good?”

“Sounds good, thanks, Benkei.” You smiled at him, watching the three of them leave and sighing in satisfaction when you saw the way the gentle-giant punched Takeomi’s arm once they were far enough for his complaints to appear silent. “But to answer your question,” you turned towards Shinichiro once again, sitting at the edge of the bed and resting your hand on top of his. You could see the way he visibly relaxed against your touch, the warmth of your skin coaxing his insecurities away little by little. “I did like you very much back then, too much for it to be considered healthy, I'm pretty sure…”

“Why didn’t you say anything then?”

“Well, I, you know,” you stumbled over your words, suddenly feeling the embarrassment for your younger self was all over you. Why didn’t you say anything? Well, in hindsight, you didn’t think Shinchiro had it in him to use a literary reference as a means of confession. Not because he was stupid, that was Takeomi's role, but because it was very un-Shinichiro. You had been witness to the countless failed confession attempts and nothing included anything as subtle and detailed as the lighter he had gifted you. Back then, he professed his brimming infatuation with an honest smile, the well-rehearsed question ‘would you go out with me?’ and absolutely nothing else. And though the ‘courting’ period included him acting all whipped and soft, he was usually very blunt when it came to asking people out, gentle but direct. 

Although, thinking about it a little bit more in depth, he had always been very romantic, sometimes cringy with the shitty pick up lines, but during movie nights he had always chosen movies with clear romantic subplots, and you can recall that one romance poetry book he kept borrowing from the library, unable to finish it before returning it—at least that’s what you thought, by the amount of times he had taken it home.

When you were both in middle school and high school, he would watch couples holding hands with a gentle smile, sometimes going as far as spacing out and letting a dreamy sigh fall from his lips—he always brushed off the person asking the reason behind his sighing, but you were paying attention to him more often than not, so of course you knew—and of course, you couldn’t forget the many times he had shared hypothetical scenarios with the four of you, most of them consisting of him fantasising out loud the sort of dates he’d like to have with his hypothetical s/o or what he would do for them before being relentlessly teased by all of you.

So, in retrospect, him trying to confess through a pretty much evident symbol extracted from one of your favourite books was a very un-Shinichiro, Shinichiro thing to do, if that made any sense. 

“I think…I might’ve gaslit myself into believing it was a coincidence, didn't wanna get my hopes up.”

“I thought, I– I thought it was pretty obvious that I liked you.” He chuckled, scooting to the side in order to make more space for you to lay, next to him, the same you had done most of the days you had spent here. “Everybody knew I did.”

“Wait, really? I thought you were being friendly!” You let out a laugh, watching him soften up even more at your obliviousness and simultaneously hold back laughter of his own. “Don’t laugh at me! You were flirtier with Wakasa than with me!”

“You can’t blame me!” He finally laughed along with you, interlocking your fingers together and pulling you close until you were squished next to him, and waited for you to get comfortable before continuing his spiel. “Waka’s my best friend, we’ve always been like that, and you know it.” He nuzzled his cheek against your head, muttering the words in the quietest way possible, like he didn’t want to be heard by anyone but you. “Plus I couldn't flirt with you, I'd blush and cry afterwards.”

“Yeah, I’d’ve cried if you flirted with me as well.”

“Hey!”

“I mean it in a good way! Happy tears or whatever.” You sighed with a giddy grin, caressing his cheeks with the back of your hand before smushing them together, forcing a pout and giving him a quick peck on the lips. “I promise I’ll forever be in love with you.”

© 2023 SHINACHIRO ; Do not repost my work. Do not recommend my work outside of tumblr. Do not translate my work. affiliated with @tokyometronetwork

[yusax]

fluff • fem!reader •semi shinxreader

idk but the thought of Shinichiro’s gf being the only close older female role in ema's life is kinda cute.

every time you come over, she silently waits close to the front door, hiding around the corner while her brother opens the door, welcoming his girlfriend. when you hug him, you can see her tiny shy figure with an expression as if she wanted to tell you something.

"what is it, ema?" you ask after she had dragged you to her room, leaving her brother standing at the entrance dumbfounded.

"How do you know you like someone?" the question caught you off guard. Is there someone that caught her interest? you couldn't help but smile at the thought. The question came out bold but you could tell she was flustered by the blush forming on her cheeks. Not wanting to make her uncomfortable, you minimized the teasing and tried giving her a decent explanation on how to tell if you like someone.

you being the only female role in her life made her search for your advice on everything revolving around a girl growing up. Even though Shinichiro would appreciate it if his sister didn't constantly steal his girlfriend away from him, he is grateful that ema and he can rely on you and that she is comfortable enough to come to you when she needs help.

In fact, even before this had started she already saw you as a big sister and loved hanging out with you.

"Y/N-Nee, what is this for?" she asked, holding up the primer you previously applied to her face before adding the foundation. You were going to a restaurant she had picked out a while ago and since it was a special occasion - given that the grade on her math test would turn out good - you wanted to make it seem extra special by dressing fancy and doing her makeup and hair. Nonetheless, even if it turned out bad, you knew how much effort she put into studying. At least for that should you reward her.

"You put this beneath your makeup, so it stays longer and doesn't get cakey" you answered, taking out the blush and applying some of it on the apples of her cheeks and the tip of her nose. “Can I have some of that too?” she asked, pointing at the shimmery eyeshadow that was scattered on the floor next to all the other products you’ve used on her. You didn’t want to put that much on her, at first even being reluctant of doing her makeup in the first place but when your boyfriend reassured you it was okay, you obliged. To her favor, you dabbed the with a golden powder-covered brush onto her eyelids, blending it so it’s evenly spread. “And, we’re done! Are you missing something? I can add it before we go.” you said after handing her a mirror she could admire her makeup in. The way her face lit up and her smile reached her eyes, made you gush in adoration. “Now I look just like you!” she exclaimed, running out of her room to show her new look to her brothers. She couldn’t see how your eyes widened at her statement. A tender smile formed on your quivering lips, a hand reaching out to your heart since you could only take that much. She’s so adorableee~ you thought, before getting up and grabbing your purse, so you could finally leave the Sano residence and drive to the restaurant.

I had this idea a while ago and decided to finally write it down last night. 

I sacrifized my sleep schedule but I hope you guys enjoyed it <3

[nejibaby]

(un)certainties

Pairing: Sano Shinichiro x Reader

Word count: 0.9k

“You aren’t well versed in love. And the things that you do know of love, you’ve learned from Sano Shinichiro.”

You’re not sure how things ended up this way.

The air is stuffy and stale. No sound can be heard aside from the occasional scraping of the utensils against the plates and the clock ticking on the wall. It makes you a little bit self conscious about your own breathing — afraid that it would disrupt the atmosphere if you breathed too deeply.

You pretend to take a sip on your glass of wine and sneak a peek at the person in front of you.

Sano Shinichiro seems to be unperturbed. He maintains a blank, impassive face.

It makes you wonder, does this silence really not bother him?

A couple of years ago, at the very restaurant you’re both in, and on the exact same table you’re both seated at, things were a lot different. Back then, the air was filled with laughters and giggles, and random stories. At that time, conversation flowed freely, so much so that by nine in the evening you both barely even touched the food right in front of you.

But now, you’ve had your wine glass refilled thrice, and the night is just about to end without a single word being uttered.

It feels lonely, even with him there.

Just as you put your glass back down, Shinichiro raises his eyes to meet yours. You look away instantly when you notice him raise a brow.

You feel your ears burn from having been caught staring at him.

Fortunately, he doesn’t question your rather odd actions.

Unfortunately, he interprets your actions as something else, and the first words he tells you at this anniversary dinner is, “Do you want to go home?”

You suppose it’s pointless to stay much longer so you give him a curt smile and a nod.

Shinichiro returns the smile, but it doesn’t really make your heart skip. Not when it isn’t a genuine one. Not when it’s the practised smile he easily gives away to other people.

The ride home isn’t silent, thanks to his tendency to hum random songs as he drives. At least that’s something that hasn’t changed over the years.

However, instead of admiring his talent, your mind chooses a different path for tonight. It goes wandering to uncharted territories, making you wonder if long term relationships are supposed to be this way.

Is it still considered normal if both of you make time for important events and go on dates but without talking to each other? Is it okay living under the same roof without connecting? Existing at the same timeline but moving on different paces?

The cold hard truth is you don’t actually know. You aren’t well versed in love. And the things that you do know of love, you’ve learned from Sano Shinichiro.

It is and has always been Shinichiro for you.

But is that the case with him too? Does he feel the same way with you?

You’re not sure — at least not anymore.

You go on with your separate routines by the time you get home. The night ends with Shinichiro leaving a kiss on your forehead before he turns his back to you to sleep.

It hurts. And before you know it, tears are falling from your eyes.

Is this really how it’s going to be in the long run? Are you supposed to get used to the silence and loneliness? Why does this make you feel miserable?

You stare at his back, and question whether it would be okay to reach out to him. Slowly, carefully, you scoot over towards him. Tentatively, you raise your arm to wrap around his torso.

You wait to see if he stirs awake, ready to pull away if he does. You watch for any signs of change in his breathing, but there isn’t any.

Despite the relief, your lips quiver.

He’s been so busy these past few months, he rarely ever goes home. You understand his duties and responsibilities, you really do. Besides, you’ve been through this before. You should be content that he’s here, that he’s taken a day off to spend with you. But why does it feel like he’s slipping through your fingers this time around?

You sigh and press your forehead against his back. You miss being this close to him. You miss his warmth. You miss his scent. You miss everything about him.

You press a kiss on his shoulder and pull back. Just as you start to lay on your back, you hear Shinichiro whimper faintly.

You suppose he too misses your warmth next to his, albeit unconsciously. It brings about a sad smile on your face. “What am I going to do with you?”

When you move closer to him, you gently rub your palms against his back. His whimpers immediately cease. You sit up to take a peek at his face and see him pouting in his sleep.

He’s adorable.

It temporarily eases your pain.

You run your hands through his hair and place a fleeting kiss on his nose.

You decide then and there that it wouldn’t be so bad if you poured more of your love to Shinichiro.

You’ll try harder for this. You’ll fight desperately for him. You’ll brave whatever sea or ocean despite the high waves and deadly currents, even if it means drowning in an endless abyss. As long as it means more time with Shinichiro. As long as it means more of him.

Because it is and has always been Shinichiro for you.

song reference/inspiration: (1) dinner by suho, jang jane, (2) let me in by exo

[okkotsuus]

Heyooooooo <333

I hope you have a nice day! ;3

Wanted to send you something for the event too~💞

Fandom : Tokyo Revengers ;3

Character : Shinichiro Sano 🥰

Prompt : 7. "it's not my fault your so cute, now is it?"

*big hug* 🫂❤️

kiss prompt #7 with shinichiro (tr) !

features: shinichiro s.

contents: kissing. fighting. bruise. band-aid. implied blood. strangers to lovers. they're young because it's cuter like that. 0.3k words.

three-hundred event

you meet shinichiro sano while you're waiting at the bus stop as a young teen. a group of delinquents were haggling you for money, but you refused to give it to them.

shinichiro comes running and shouting about how it's mean to pick on people. he immediately jumps in front of you, claiming that he'd "protect you."

but if that was true, why was he sitting on the bench with a bruised cheek after you beat up the thugs yourself?

he's pouting as you wipe off the blood from his face with a towelette, very clearly disappointed with how everything had gone. "that was very brave of you, mr..?" you trail off, not even knowing his name.

"shinichiro, and it was so lame of me !!" he slams his face into his palms as he whines about what a "flop" that rescue mission was. you can't help but smile fondly as you look at him, he's a sweet kid (rare for people your age, nowadays).

you lift his face from his palms and smooth a hello kitty plaster over his scuffed cheek and press a kiss over it.

his face goes bright red as he stares at you, mouth hanging open. you just giggle and ruffle his hair while standing and turning to catch your bus, turning back to say just one last thing to the boy.

"it's not my fault you're so cute, now is it?"

okkotsuus 23

[lalunanymph]

𝐈 𝐖𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋

wakasa’s death was the final straw that made shinichiro lose his last shred of humanity, turning him into a cruel and sadistic gang leader who feared nothing. that is until wakasa’s estranged sister shows up, claiming she would do anything to uncover the truth about her brother’s death… even if it means sacrificing everything to him. ┊ 𖨆♡𖨆 sano shinichiro x fem!reader

‗ ❍ mentions of murder, mentions of suicide, mentions of food, grief, longing, angst, fluff, suggestive content, betrayal, og timeline shin, dark!shin ┊7,8k+ words

. . . . . the title is the english translation based off this song. reader uses she/her pronouns for this third POV narrative instead of the conventional second POV (you). also... dawn not writing smut for a heavy fic for once? she truly is experimenting 💅🏼

They said that the only thing strong enough to kill a dragon was a dragon itself.

That in the face of pure danger, the great monster would rather eat its own tail than concede defeat.

Many myths surrounded the fearsome creature, and from a promise of brotherhood made by two men, a gang was formed, named after the famed mythical serpent. The streets of Tokyo shuddered from their name: The Black Dragons. 

For many years, they prospered, pillaged and reaped their way into violent notoriety, the mere utterance of them enough to draw a chill up every policeman’s spine and instil fear in their hearts. 

Until one day, the dragon ate itself whole. 

Tokyo’s streets ran red with their blood.

It was unimaginable horror; bodies strewn across the ground, brothers lost, families torn apart. At the eye of the storm, the cause for this destruction, was a young man called Sano Manjiro. 

He alone was the sole holder of his brother’s heart, and the day Mikey died was when Sano Shinichiro started down his path of destruction. Word on the street was that he roamed the alleys day and night, searching for an answer—a solution—to bring back the family he had lost. His bruised knuckles were telling, the dark circles under his eyes an even bigger indication of the lunacy he was descending into.

They said he left an old man bleeding out to death in the middle of a grimy road, his skull bashed into his head. His victim was homeless, they whispered. Nothing to his name but a dirty cart filled with scraps and the horrible misfortune of being targeted for something he had no control over.

Sano Shinichiro killed him in cold blood.

By some grace, an old friend found him and took him in with promises of riches, women and more drugs to ease the pain. Shinichiro agreed.

The forlorn, broken-hearted man worked alongside the Black Dragon leader, Wakasa Imaushi, to bring glory back to the discarded name of their gang. Lives were lost, blood ran the asphalt till it stung with a tangy rust. And still, Shinichiro was unsatisfied. 

He found no glory in the violent half-life he lived in, and the stories whispered that he got into a heated argument with Wakasa before the man’s body was found, face first in the Sumida river, his features bloated and disfigured beyond recognition. They managed to identify him by the last remaining purple streaks in his matted blond hair.

Shinichiro rose the ranks, a terrifying succession of the bloody crown Wakasa left to him.

For years, his reign remained uncontested, until one day, an underling stumbled into his office, wide-eyed and terrified of being the bearer of bad news.

“It’s about Wakasa-san, Sano-san,” the tattooed man’s brow furrowed. 

The dark-haired leader astride the sofa blinked, peeling those bottomless black eyes towards the messenger. He had not heard that name in years.

“What about him?” 

“His family is here—”

Shinichiro scoffed before the man could finish. “Family? Wakasa was an orphan.” Just like me. “He had no family.”

The thug’s expression twisted into one of hesitation, and his eyes darted out towards the heavily draped door, beyond the solitude of this VIP room filled with smoke and the fumes of alcohol.

“There must be a mistake, sir,” the man persisted, much to his growing annoyance. “Because his sister is right outside this club, begging to speak to you.”

Shinichiro was not one to believe in ghosts, but in this instance, he had gone pale as if he had seen a figment of his dead brother in the mirror.

“What?” 

His whisper was harsh—scratchy from the smoke. “What do you mean?” 

“Imaushi Y/N. She wants to speak to you.”

It would be easy to turn her away; to tell the underling to take her behind the dumpsters and slit her throat. Judging by the turbulence in the Imaushi family and the destabilisation of their entire structure (mom—dead, dad—missing, brother—dead), she would not be missed. 

He hesitated for a split second, before an irrational sort of impulse took over. One that reeked of insecurity as to whether he had truly gotten rid of his past… or if it was back to haunt him. 

“Fine. Send her in.”

Minutes passed, and the second she entered, Shinichiro’s frown deepened. While she may not look like Wakasa’s sister, the exact way in which she held your head high, and the same deadpan, sleepy stare spoke volumes of how the young woman before him was truly related to the once feared Black Dragon leader.

I know my brother didn’t commit suicide, her words were a fog in his mind. So, please tell me the truth.

Shinichiro swirled the dark, amber liquor in his glass. “Every truth has a price.”

“I’ll pay for it.” Feisty. He could plainly see now how you were related to the great Wakasa Imaushi. “Anything you want, I’d do it.” 

He peered her up and down. To many people, Sano Shinichiro must look like a soulless thug—his tattoos, sunken eyes and passive sneer were all indications of the dark path he chose. But, to her, he held a sad air, one she could sense was tied intimately with loss.

“You wouldn’t be able to stomach it.”

“Try me.” The dress she wore straight from her job in a bar suddenly felt too short—too see through. His eyes branded down her bare legs, stomach and exposed arms, lingering for a moment on her made up face. Shinichiro set down his glass, his thin lips set in a glare. 

“Listen, kid. You got the wrong idea. There was a reason why Wakasa ended up the way he did—”

“Please.” 

Fuck. She was crying. 

Heavy sobs echoed around the smoky room, every tear slowly defrosting his callous heart. Shinichiro always did hate it when women cried in front of him. It was partly the reason why he never dealt punishments to the weaker sex on his own, relying on his underlings to do the dirty work because he could never stomach their tears.

It chipped away at him, and eventually, he set his glass down onto the table with a frustrated sigh. 

“Shut up.”

She knew better than to defy a yakuza boss, and clamped her mouth shut, shoulders still heaving with tremors. 

Those dark, listless eyes drank in your tear-stained face, and he grunted softly, sinking back into the leather seat. So much for a relaxing drink after work.

“Take off your dress.”

Stunned, she thought she had heard him wrong. “W-what?” 

He gestured at the pretty, floral number she had wrapped around your suddenly shaking body. “Are you deaf? I told you to take off your dress.”

Her delicate throat moved in a quick gulp, and it didn’t take a genius for him to figure out that she was second guessing whether this entire crusade was worth it. He saw it in the minute shake of her fingers when they clenched into fists at her side, and how she couldn’t look him in the eye.

Maybe she would leave. Half of him wished she would. The other half wanted to wait and see if she was exactly like your brother—unafraid, uncaring of consequences and daring enough to do anything he said.

After a tense beat of silence, she stood up. Her finger shook when she lifted the hem of her skirt, exposing plush thighs, the white cotton panties she wore that made his dick twitch in his pants; the soft dips of her hips; revealing her stomach and breasts which were in a matching white bra. Finally, her bare collarbones and then, the damn dress was on the floor.

Shinichiro stared her up and down, savouring her submission. He lit a cigarette, puffing on it thoughtfully as she stood before him, fists and jaw clenched, looking like she wanted to murder him despite how the poor creature were shaking from head to toe. He let her stew in her humiliation for a few more minutes, silently finishing his white stick.

Flicking the butt into the ashtray, he gestured to his lap. “Come here.” 

What could she do but heed his words?

Her movements were stiff when she ambled towards him, and stood close enough for her calves to brush his kneecaps. 

“Sit down.” 

A stiff corpse. That was the closest thing Shinichiro could compare her to when she sank into his lap. He wasted no time in being brazen with his touches, gliding his palms down her hips and thighs, wanting her to relax yet also to keep her keyed up for more of his caresses. Those pretty shoulders of hers were hiked up to her ears, every pore oozing caution. 

Shinichiro found it amusing how two siblings could be entirely different—where Wakasa threw himself fully into any danger, she was by far the more subdued of the two. However, she did not shake his touch off when he caressed her thigh, leading his fingers slowly between the untouched terrain of your sex, every muscle in her body calling not to succumb to the temptation of getting up and bolting away.

As quickly as his touch came, it disappeared. He pushed her off his lap, and with an unfathomable expression, reached for his lighter and another white stick, the ember tip dancing in her periphery.

“Come back to this club tomorrow,” he flickered those bottomless onyx eyes towards her wide ones. “I have a need for a personal secretary. Someone who’s there 24/7 to take care of me. Cook my meals, watch out for me. Essentially, you would belong to me.” He wants a slave? Her expression could conceal her palpable mortification. Those dark eyes never wavered from her face. “Can you count?”

She nodded after a beat of hesitation. 

“Write?”

Again, she nodded.

“Are you good at handling a gun?”

She froze. 

Shinichiro interpreted her silence as a ‘no’ and he chuckled. She hated how that sound was both delicious and deep at the same time. Pull yourself together, Imaushi. 

“We can train you up,” he tapped his cigarette over the ashtray to discard the excess ash. “8 o’clock. Don’t be late.”

The second she agreed to this harrowing plan to become Shinichiro’s secretary was when she came to the conclusion that she had accidentally made a deal with the Devil.

Not accidentally; as much as she hated to admit it, the entire agreement was done with her consent. Nothing mattered but finding out what happened to Wakasa.

Imouto, don’t come looking for me. Her estranged brother, a few years younger, snarled as he hastily wrapped his coat around his broad shoulders. Don’t tell anyone you’re related to me, and for fuck’s sake, keep your nose out of my business.

A lump formed in her throat as she poured over your new boss’ schedule. Said man who owned her payroll, and consequently, her entire being. 

A suitcase of her clothes was already shipped to his luxurious penthouse, and after work, she was instructed to follow him to his meetings, shadow him in everything he did and return back to said penthouse to prepare a meal for the infamous Sano Shinichiro, and… her thoughts trailed off, unable to complete itself. 

He will want to sleep with me tonight. 

She was the furthest thing from a shy, prude wallflower. While she hadn’t gone long-term with any of her boyfriends, she left nothing up to chance in the bedroom. There was little terrain which she had explored with those men in and out of the sheets, and if Shinichiro were to ask her to do something out of her comfort zone, she could not weasel out with the excuse of inexperience. 

The second her new boss entered, every breath in the small office was held. Clothes rustled and chairs scraped as everyone stood up to welcome the lanky, dark-eyed man whose dishevelled hair and wrinkled clothes gave him the furthest impression from a great yakuza boss. In this light, he looked a little lost and weary, nodding in acknowledgement and stiffly gesturing for her to follow him when he walked by. 

“Good morning, Sano-san.” She bowed lowly and waited at the corner of his desk while he settled down, refusing to lift her head until he told her so. Wakasa would call it a good tactic of obedience. She called it self-preservation. 

“I have two meetings today,” he started without bothering to return your greeting. “One in Odaiba and another in Akasaka. Make sure you have that written down in my schedule.” 

She scrambled to remove a notepad and pen from your skirt pocket, scribbling down the two locations while he prattled on about the timings. She bowed again once he finished. “I will remind you of this, sir.” 

He turned his listless eyes to the coffee station in the corner of his office. “Dark. One spoon of sugar. Argentinian blend.”

Shinichiro observed as she scrambled to fix his morning cup of coffee, measuring the precise amount and concentrating on stirring until the fragrant caffeine fanned around his office. The Black Dragon leader always measured the worth of his men by how fast they could comply with his demands. This slight, young woman before him was one of the better crops he had picked. Your sister is truly a wonder, Waka-kun. 

He saw it in how she dutifully reminded him of his meetings, arranged his binders in an alphabetical order, refilled his fountain pen and made no complaint when he interrupted her lunch to go out and buy his own. She returned, flushed from the chill, holding a single packet of tamago sando like it was a trophy and handed it to him with both hands. She knew exactly how to keep her head down during tense meetings, walk two steps behind him, and recapped his deal with another gang in minutes that were easy to decipher. The best part of it all? Despite the small grimace on her face every time he hounded her for another request, she still complied and did it. 

Some perverse part of him relished in her submission, imagining the number of ways she would be this obedient and giving in the bedroom. He looked forward to nighttime. The car ride back to his condo was quiet, and Shinichiro did not ask you about her first day. It was evident in the droop of her eyes, the exhaustion of his numerous demands taking a toll on her physique. Poor girl.

Her shoulders were slumped forward, and the click of her high heels on the ground were diminutive behind the crisp footfalls of his dress shoes. His bag and files were in careful arms, and she tried to keep up with his longer strides. Shinichiro didn’t bother holding open the door for her, letting it collide with her elbow. Behind his back, she gave a little huff, wiping off her glare when he turned around to face her. 

“Ochazuke,” he said without preamble. “I assume you have some kitchen skills.” 

The Black Dragon bastard didn’t bother saying anything else. He sat on the sofa, nursing a beer while she set his files to one side and removed her shoes, trying not to get caught dead ogling at the huge granite island in the middle of his kitchen, or the velvet L-shaped sofa which was enough to seat eighteen people at one go. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the glittering luxury of Tokyo—90-stories above her modest apartment right in the outskirts where she would’ve never dreamt of encountering such opulence.

The penthouse was divided into two floors, with a floating stairs leading to the bedroom and bathrooms above; a chandelier dripped from the ceiling, throwing off fragments of light on the neutral walls and he had a large balcony which housed another large L-shaped sofa complete with an infinity pool which glowed a light blue from the neon lights. 

She defrosted the salmon in his fridge, boiled the water for the green tea and started on the rice. The fatty scent of fish frying over the stove together with the tea steeping in its kyusu filled her with nostalgia for the same meal she prepared years ago during family dinners. 

Setting the completed dish on his table, she called for him to eat. 

Preparing another bowl for herself, she froze when he told her to eat outside on the balcony. “I don’t like to speak to anyone during my meals.”

Anger and humiliation bubbled in her chest, but since she was under his tutelage and care, she could not do anything about it. She found she quite liked the view of the city below her as she chewed on the soaked tea rice and clean fish. 

After dinner, he went to take a shower with a clip request for her to join him. Is he expecting me to bathe him, too? 

The reality was far worse. He sat on the ledge of his bathtub, already naked and languishing in hot water. Frothy bubbles spilled over the porcelain lip of the tub, and he beckoned her to join him. She could not refuse, and discarded her clothes, hesitating on the thin piece of her panties. He could not keep his eyes away from her stiffening nipples, unabashedly drinking in her curves. Summoning a strength she did not know she had, the young woman removed the last layer keeping her free from his penetrating gaze, and slowly padded over to him. 

Shin scooted backwards until his back hit the wall, and she gingerly stepped into the tub together with him. More bubbles and water spilled from the side, overflowing from the combination of their body weight and she hid her warming cheeks behind her hair. He scraped it back from her face, touch surprisingly tender.

“Tell me about yourself.”

Her voice shook when she told him about her childhood; her life in a low cost apartment in the outskirts of Tokyo, Wakasa’s distance from her since they were both children, her parents and their never ending concern for their eldest son. She told him of her education, the pets she kept and lost, and friends she made during her highschool years which she still kept in contact with.

“Any lovers?” 

She tensed. “A few.”

“How many?” as he spoke, he sponged her arms with a loofah, scrubbing it lightly. Most likely to lower her guard. 

Her voice caught with uncertainty. “T-two in highschool. Three more when I started in the working world.”

“You never went to university?” 

She shook her head. He started massaging her shoulders, his touch not unpleasant. 

“Why not?” 

“My family was poor.”

He hummed. “Waka-kun never talked about his family much.”

Surprising him, she nodded. “He hated us.”

“Why?”

“Why should I tell you?”

He stopped his ministrations, fingers spasming on her skin. A beat of silence passed between them, and for a second, she wondered if she would be in trouble for such a brazen answer.

“Feisty.” Shinichiro exhaled a laugh and manoeuvred her to face him. His dark eyes remained fixed on hers, and he tilted his head forward. “My turn.”

She reached for the bottle of juniper and sage shampoo, lathering it through his dark locks. He hummed, and despite their brief acquaintance, she did not complain when he laid his forehead in between her breasts. 

“You are like a child.”

He hummed. “Every powerful man needs a place they can unwind.”

“And you chose to do it with me?” He almost purred when she scrubbed behind his ears. 

“Yes. Do you find that strange?” 

She braced herself on her knees, and he tried hard to not stare at her bare tits soaped up with bubbles. “Why me, of all people?”

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her even closer. “Waka-kun was my best friend. You remind me of him in some way.”

“Every girl’s dream,” she muttered dryly. “To be compared to her dead brother by a man.”

“Would you want me to compare you to something else?” 

He didn’t have to look up to know she would be smiling slightly. “Not at this moment—no.” 

Shinichiro did not touch her again, showing her to his guest bedroom where she would spend her nights as long as she was under his roof—an arrangement she had no idea how long would last. The bed was soft, the pillows plush, and she soon fell into a deep rest, unaware of the man who was down the hall laying awake because of her. 

Waka-kun… 

He stood up from the edge of his huge bed and ambled to the window, watching the city play out its neon theatrics from his safe perch above it; like a king watching over his decrepit kingdom. 

The reminder of her body pressed to his, her fingers in his hair and how comfortable their banter was gave him a lot to ruminate on. 

Did you send your sister to me as a cruel punishment for my sins against you?

The days spent with the allegedly horrendous Black Dragon leader delved into simple routine. 

During the waking hours, he would watch her sort through documents, pour over deals, and answer his calls. At night, she would prepare his favourite dishes and sit separately while they ate. Bath times were the only stipulated moments in their schedule where they would be in close proximity, and Shinichiro liked to believe that she was slowly breaking down her defenses around him.

About two weeks had passed since their little arrangement, and he was eager to take it a step further.

“Eat with me.”

She paused from her trajectory towards the balcony, unsure if she had heard right. 

He pulled the chair next to him—on his right—and gestured to it. She sank down onto the cool leather seat with mincing movements. 

They ate the oyako-don she made for the two of them in silence, and he praised her cooking after he had finished. 

As usual, in the tub, they would talk about everything and anything. Today, his mind was a million miles away, far more vulnerable than he anticipated and she could sense it.

“Sano-san? Are you well?”  

“Call me Shin.” 

Her silence was telling of her disbelief. No one had ever been allowed to call the great Sano Shinichiro by a diminutive of his name. She pulled him against her chest where he fit in her embrace, taking over his routine of massaging her shoulders by reciprocating the same action for him. He closed his eyes, head tilted back. She has a good, firm grip.

“Tell me what is bothering you.”

She didn’t prod him further when he remained silent. Slowly, Shinichiro opened up. 

“My brother—Manjiro. He would’ve been eighteen today.” 

Her kneading ceased. Shinichiro grunted in warning and she hastily resumed her ministrations. 

“I’m sorry.” Drops of water were hitting the marble floor from the overfilled bathtub, filling the silence. “How did he… pass on… if you don’t mind sharing?”

He did mind, actually. But, it had been a long time since anyone had ever made him feel this open to such tender afflictions born from memories of the last living family member he had left. 

Shinichiro opened his mouth, his  scratchy voice filling the pockets of spaces between them with stories of a blonde boy who was far too brave for his own good. Like the golden Icarus who flew too close to the sun, he leapt across stairs and bannisters, trying to reach for the sky but instead, fell to the frigid ground, crumpling upon the impact. 

Eventually, the brave boy died and the brother who worked hard to save him became consumed by the same hopelessness and despair which deadened his younger sibling’s vegetative body to the world.

Her hands stopped moving and this time, Shinichiro did not chastise her. The heavy silence lingered in the air like steam from their shared bath, and he was breathing heavily as though he had run a marathon, his emotions bubbling above the surface like poisonous lava. 

She turned him to face her, palms on his cheeks, and he could barely pull away from the gravity of her mouth before it was pressed onto his. Her lips were sweet if not a tad bit chaste, slightly chapped and flushed warmly from the bath. She tilted her head a little more to the right and he closed his eyes, drinking her in deeply. His arms that were accustomed to pushing people away brought her closer, vining around her slighter figure so her chest was pressed flush to his. 

Sano Shinichiro, the fearsome Black Dragon leader who had blood on his hands all for the sake of cultivating the elusive ability to travel back in time and save his little brother… was completely overwhelmed by his first kiss.

Her mouth moved like a dream on his, stealing his breath, his resolve, and if he were being honest? A little bit of his soul, too. 

Their tongues were like errant flames dancing in the wind, flickering with each other and igniting a deeper spark that seemed to rescind any semblance of common sense or resolve.

His inexperience did little to deter him from nudging her back to the wall, or busying his tongue down her throat, nipping on the thin skin lightly; tasting soap and musk.

She took his hand and he squeezed it, their lips interlocking again.

“I’ll go slow,” he muttered in between breaths she relinquished back to him. The woman who stole the air from his lungs only to give it back with her sweet kiss. His damnation and salvation all at once. 

She caressed his cheek, a silent plea for him to give all of him to her. 

Shinichiro does. He does because she made him feel things his stupid heart had not felt in so many years. The walls which he put up were flimsy; paper thin. Foolish. Years of defences stripping from a soul-stirring kiss she caught him in. 

Again. Again. And again. 

A torn heart could’ve been sutured over from her sweet kisses alone. 

The bath water turned tepid after hours of their soaking bodies in them, but neither Shin nor her minded.

“Shin, you have to try this.” 

The steam from the bubbling pot casted her grin in smoky shades and he fanned it away with his palm, eager to see her smile. She lifted a soup spoon to him, one hand braced under it to catch the stray drops, implicitly asking for him to taste the dish she painstakingly made. 

He bent forward, sipping on the broth and hummed in agreement. “It’s delicious.” He squeezed her hip, and on second thought, wrapped his long arms around her waist when she turned back to stir the pot, hooking his chin over her shoulder to lazily observe her work. 

Shinichiro would never cease to be amazed at how clean her skills were or how effortlessly she made sukiyaki from scratch. Instead of using the prepackaged soup packet, she grated the herbs, mixed the sauces and sliced the vegetables and meat on her own for a truly specialised homecook experience. 

The five-star restaurants he visited could never compare to this simple pleasure of having a person he cared for seated opposite of him, sipping on her broth and telling him about her day. He had trusted her more and more to handle the Black Dragon’s internal affairs and she was gushing all about the paperwork system and how the head accountant allowed her to arrange it to her heart’s content. 

Later that night, they both sat outside the balcony on the L-shape couch, staring at the glittering mass of Tokyo below them. With her beside him, the cold neon lights seemed more welcoming. Less lonely. 

“Shin?” her soft voice stole his attention. 

“Yes, baby?”

“Can you tell me what happened with Waka now?”

The lights suddenly became too jarring. Too claustrophobic. 

He pulled away, physically and emotionally, keeping a safe distance between their figures. 

She twisted her body to face him, a question on her parted lips. He quelled it with his next words.

“I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

Without waiting for her reply, he turned on his heel and left straight for bed, forsaking their daily bath ritual.

She made sure to walk on eggshells when she was around him. 

Shinichiro had not yet returned home from work. He had sent word for her to go ahead first, and that he would join her tonight. 

Her stomach churned, and nausea edged her thoughts. What if he was in trouble? 

The infamous gang leader was known to disappear for days on end when he was handling business on his own. She could barely get a hold of him through text, and spent the next few minutes leaning against the stone counter, chewing on her thumb nail. 

Her phone lit up, and his curt reply did little to assuage her nerves.

Will be gone for a few more hours. Don’t wait for me.

Was it because she had made the grave mistake of asking about her brother? But, she thought Shin would be comfortable enough to tell her.

Unless…

She pulled out her laptop, retrieving the files which she had made a secret double copy of. Wakasa’s expenditure from the ledgers which the organisation still kept. Her eyes quickly roved down the column of numbers and she paused at the last bar he visited before he died.

It was easy for her to retrieve Shinichiro’s records; he kept it all lumped in one binder and paid it off with the company’s burner card. She matched the date of Wakasa’s last spending with a suspiciously familiar amount.

Flickering her eyes back to her dead brother’s tab, she stifled a gasp.

The dates matched. There was no mention of the bar in Shinichiro’s records, but she had no doubt this was the correct space. Upon closer look, the amount spent was about the same. About ¥200,000 each with slight differences to the total number.

Shinichiro was the last person to ever see her brother alive.

She closed the laptop shut, a crease in her brow. 

If this was the case… then why didn’t her lover tell her this? 

Her stomach churned, and she rushed out of her seat, straight to the toilet. Head bowed over the bowl, she spewed out her dinner, green in the face and wiping her mouth with a shaky hand. 

She couldn’t stand without shaking and sank down to her knees.

Uncaring for her own health, she questioned everything she had discovered within these past few minutes. The thoughts roared in her brain, louder than the churning in her belly, and she touched it once more to still the raging fear. 

Shin was undoubtedly a dangerous man. Despite his lack of tattoos and fearsome skills, he still carried weight in the underworld because of his terrifying reputation.

She had to contend with the reality of this question which would not give her rest. 

What if it was him who killed my brother? 

He returned a few hours later, stinking of alcohol and dragging a pounding headache behind him like a ball and chain. In the half-dimness, he noticed her unblinking, sitting at the dining table.

Shinichiro barely opened his mouth to greet her before her voice pierced through him with such muted anger it left him rooted to the ground.

“Were you the last person to see my brother?” 

The flowers he bought for her in his briefcase weighed heavily, and he set down the innocuous object, frowning at her open hostility. His mouth ran dry and ahead of his muddled brain, his voice thick when he blurted—

How did you find out? 

Her righteous anger faltered. She clenched her fists, gingerly getting to her feet. 

So, it’s true.

He had no more cards to play. In this perverted game of finding the truth, Shin had hid the ace up his sleeve. Derailing her from the reality standing right in front of her.

“Where were you?”

An easy answer he could give. “Deciding how to take down the rival head down in the next town.” 

Horror tinged the pocket of silence festering between them. “You can’t possibly be thinking of defeating the Dojins?” 

Possibly one of the worst gangs in comparison to the Black Dragons. They wouldn’t bat an eye to gut a child in front of its weeping parents, amongst some of the horrors she had heard in passing whispers. 

His jaw tightened and he refused to look at her. Afraid that if he did, he would concede defeat and put behind this idea. The same one Wakasa was against. The same one his sister was begging him to reconsider. Shin’s heart was set in stone.

The Dojins were heavily involved in children and human trafficking, an atrocious act even Wakasa was against. If he went through with this, there was no telling what would become of the Black Dragons. 

“Your brother said the exact same thing.”

She tried a different tactic. Approaching him, she kept her shoulders even and voice steady, her gait unhurried. Her smaller palms were warm around his, and Shin flickered his eyes to her face when she pressed his hand flat against her sternum, right above her belly. 

“Shin, please.” Tears scintillated and shone in those beautiful eyes he could never tear his attention from. “Be rational for a second. They will tear you apart.”

He wrenched his hand from her grasp, nostrils flaring. Unable to face her hauntingly sad expression, he settled for glaring at his dress shoes. “If I take over, I have control of the hospital in the province and I can force the doctors to give proper treatment to children who need it and not discriminate them because of their income—”

“Is that what Manjiro would want you to do?” 

His hands shook when he regarded her down the line of his nose. “What do you know, Y/N? What do you know about family?” 

She reeled back, as if his words had slapped her. 

“I lost mine, too.” Her voice was shaky and paper thin. She could hardly believe this callous man was the same one as the lover who would indulge her in bedtime stories in a porcelain bathtub. 

Despite everything, she gave one last desperate attempt to hold onto him. 

“I know you want to do this because of Mikey-kun. I understand that love you have for him, Shinny. I feel the same love for Wakasa. But, this is wrong. You do not have the resources—” 

“I was the cause of Wakasa’s death.”

This time, she stepped back like he had thrown scalding hot water into her face. Her heart, somewhat mended by his love, fractured once more into a million pieces; worse for wear than when she met him. 

“Tell me it’s not true.”  Her eyes were blown wide with horror, her words marred by sobs. “Tell me you’re lying to me.” 

His unfaltering gaze told a different story. 

“Your brother committed suicide because he couldn’t stand how cruel I turned out to be—how I was putting the Black Dragons at risk.”

Her steps faltered when she backtracked, and she reached out for the edge of the counter before her knees could give out. 

The man who took her on summer bike rides, who washed her when she was too tired after work, who would never hesitate to loudly praise her cooking… 

Was the one behind her beloved brother’s death? 

Any remaining piece of her heart shattered into a million more shards, and she could hardly breathe. The strength she prided herself in carrying in the face of adversity fled every fibre of her being, leaving her bones rattling hollow and breath dissipating in heavy puffs. 

“Why?” her lips could barely form around the question. “Why?” 

Shin’s face was cast in shadows, the lack of light leaving him in a chilling veneer. For the first time, she could see what the world meant about him; how he barely had a shred of humanity left to consider anyone except his own goals. 

How could I have been such a fool to think he would change for me? 

His eyes rippled close. “Y/N, believe me when I say I truly care for you. I want to share so many things with you—memories, dreams, children… a lifetime—but, there are some things I can’t tell you.”

Bullshit. “You were the one who drove him to that point, did you not?” 

He could not force a reply. She had always been too smart for her own good. Shinichiro turned his face away from her, a storm unleashed in his chest from her burning refute of his dreams for them both. It crackled the tips of his fingers with static, raising the hairs at the back of his nape, and he snarled at her, bearing down with more intimidating than necessary.

“It is done. I will be facing the Dojins tomorrow. Stay out of it if you do not want to be tied to me.” 

He stood in the eye of the storm, isolated from the world, an angry king in his own right. Shinichiro never expected her to breach past the tempestuous barriers and wrap her arms around his torso, anchoring him to solid ground through her embrace.  

“Please don’t do this,” a flurry of tears like rain chased down her cheeks. “You have so much more to live for than throwing it all away for revenge.” 

His hubris would always be his pride in never accepting the fact that he was just human. Just skin and bones; not a father-figure, or an idolised man by many in the underworld. Everyone else saw him as Sano Shinichiro, legendary gang leader and yakuza boss.

Not Shinny, the man who shamelessly yelped in fright when he watched scary movies while holding onto her sleeve, or the lover who held her close with promises of keeping her safe for as long as she desired to be by his side. The boy who laughed when the wind violently whipped through his hair and she yelled for him to slow down, both of them hurtling down the countryside roads on his old Mitsubishi bike. 

The same one who cooed at toddlers when they stared at him; firing off silly fantasies in her mind of him pulling funny faces to make their future babies laugh.

“Shin, please—”

He broke the grip she had around his heart the same moment he fought out of her arms. 

“Stay away from me.” Those dark, bottomless eyes penetrated through her defences, leaving her distressed and shaking in fear. “If you have nothing else to say, you can leave. This contract is void since you already have your answer.”

His shoulder clipped against hers when he walked past her, straight into their shared bedroom to clean up and prepare himself for the fight of his life at dawn tomorrow near the docks.

He fell into a fitful sleep and awoke a few hours later, the storm in his chest raging louder, urging him to seek her out. Lurching from the bed, he pushed open the heavy door, padding down the hallways and turning towards her room.

Her door fell open, an aching emptiness spread out before him. 

If you have nothing else to say, you can leave.

The only thing she left behind was the indent of her head on the pillow. Nothing else remained.

His beloved had disappeared. 

What is grief but love with nowhere to go? 

Shin had once heard of that phrase uttered to him a long time ago by a well-meaning family friend during Mikey’s funeral. He had called bullshit on it because why—why?—did grief even have to exist when it could easily be replaced by anger or apathy?

Grief didn’t have a place to sit in his life; he had long given up its seat in favour of blood, violence and monetary gain. Anything to distract himself from its jarring presence at the head of the table. 

Years later, he met a woman who turned his life upside down. She was persistent and kind, loyal to a fault and a person he honestly could envision spending the rest of his days with. Then, he had hurt her and paid the price for his misdoings; he had to watch the foundation of this tender love get ripped from its hinges and burn to the ground. 

All because he was too afraid to tell the truth before she gave him her all. 

Your brother committed suicide because he couldn’t stand how cruel I turned out to be—how I was putting the Black Dragons at risk. 

Wakasa’s death was finally revealed to be a tragic ultimatum to a friendship that was beyond salvation; a man who was at his wit’s end to save his beloved friend from throwing himself into a dangerous situation that would guarantee his death and the dissolution of the gang they worked hard to build.

And when he had told her the truth, she ran in the dead of the night, taking all the light and hope in his life away. 

He had spent years searching for the elusive mistress to his heart, expanding his time and energy scouring the streets for her on his own in nothing but his weathered biker jacket and unwavering hope. 

It’s too risky, boss. 

We need to get you a bodyguard. 

No. He pushed his underling’s good faith in favour for walking this path of atonement on his own. I need to do this. 

A year and a half later, he found her strolling down a park pavement, sun in her hair and on her cheeks as she held a chubby baby boy tightly in her arms. A boy with his dark eyes and hair. 

Shin, please. Her beautiful eyes shone with tears. Be rational for a second. 

She sat on the warmed stone bench, kissing the baby’s cheek and cooing at his gummy smile. The trees above threw their speckled shadows over his son’s carefree expression, those eyes which were not tinged with despair or grief. He gurgled with laughter and fisted his mother’s hair in one, chubby hand. Free to love. Free to just be.

Don’t do this, please. Her sobs rang loudly in his mind like gunshots, the warmth of her body pressed to his mangling his thoughts with utter guilt. You have so much more to live for than throwing it all away for revenge. Was she pregnant then? Did she carry his son when he so cruelly told her to leave him alone?

Grief is just love with nowhere to go. 

She was a few feet away from him, and he could plainly see how unaffected she was. There were no more tears in her eyes and her skin shone luminously with health. Her shoulders were lightened from the burden of loving him; a callous and cruel man beyond redemption. 

I was the cause of Wakasa’s death. 

The baby was suckling his thumb, watching his mother point out birds in the trees and clouds in the sky, like he understood every single word she said, enraptured by her presence. I’ve always wanted a family, he remembered confessing to her one night when they both laid in bed, naked and sated; bubbling in the afterglow of their love-making. Someday, I want to create one with you.

Shin could not stop watching her; the fall of her hair, the angelic tilt of her lips pulled into a smile. How perfect she was in every sense of the word. 

Tell me it’s not true, she gasped, tears misting her eyes. Tell me you’re lying to me. 

Her soft giggle was a double-edged sword of happiness and pure misery for the eavesdropping man. Do you see how blue the sky is? He could read her lips and ached to hear his son’s name (he didn’t know his own son’s name).

Shin took one step forward, close enough to catch her sweet voice. 

“... I bet your daddy would’ve loved to show you how the wind feels in your hair when you ride a bike on this fine day, Shinjiro.”

He was struck in disbelief, unable to move. 

Shinjiro. 

She named my son after Mikey and I. 

His mouth opened before his brain could follow. “I do.” Fuck—when did his voice get this hoarse and raw with emotion? “I would’ve loved to show the both of you.”

She did not run, nor spit on his visage like he imagined she would. Her pretty eyes flickered over his features, seeing the sleepless nights, the fine worry etched in his forehead and the telling frown lines he could never quite get rid of.

In broad daylight, he was a shell of the man he was before she left him without a word; beaten senseless by his own desolation. The child in her arms cooed, and she tightened her hold on him. 

Shinichiro took one step forward and another. When she did not move, he gathered enough courage to sit next to her, towards the edge of the stone bench to put some distance between them, in case it was all too overwhelming.

“Hi.” His voice was fragile as tissue paper.

She tore her gaze from him to stare at the ground. “Hi.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“You… look well,” he started.

“And you look like crap.” 

Her sharp tongue would never cease to make him smile. Shinichiro chuckled, easing his hands out from his pockets to place them by his side, enjoying the sun on his face. “I missed that sharp tongue of yours.”

She did not reply. 

He turned to find her chewing on her lower lip. 

“Is he…?”

The funny thing about grief is how tied up it is to guilt. We spend our whole lives chasing relief from such gut-wrenching internal horrors without realising that the more we come to terms with loss, the more we build resilience to it. 

In many ways, grief is like a bandaid.

The first rip will sting. The second will smart. The third will tingle. Until finally, it hangs limp from our skin, useless and unable to hurt us any longer. 

Shinichiro was a man who had let grief sting him over and over again because he refused to let it heal him; to open his heart to its riptides and let it carry him down the stream. He rejected its currents, its natural ebbs and flows in favour of stoppering grief for as long as he could; building a flimsy dam that could barely hold back the true weight of his loss.

Letting it spill over and drown out every single gentle stream of love he was given in his life.

I’m ready to heal. He waited for her reply, palms going clammy with nerves. I’m ready to start anew with her. 

The woman he loved nodded, her lower lip wobbling. Sunshine warmed his cheeks, lifting the hollow fear from between his pinched brows. Emboldening him with hope.

“Yes. Yes, he is.”

She scooted closer, and in that minute movement, the smoke parted to reveal the still standing foundation of a bridge he once thought he burned. Her smile was paper thin like his own, but in it, he saw the strength he always admired; the love shining there which never quite faded away. 

“Shinjiro, I want you to meet someone: this is your daddy.”

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

[rinrinx2]

Ok so we all know that shinichiro is a big family guy. He loves his family and would love to have kids with his s/o. So I wanted to request a fic where reader and shin are married and are trying for a baby but it hasn’t been successful so they go to a doctor to see what’s wrong. It turns out that reader can’t have kids. Obviously she didn’t know but it’s heartbreaking for them. Reader has been depressed after thinking that shin would leave her. Shin wouldn’t leave her because he loves her and comforts her.

Hope you like it♡

.

6: 45

Shinichiro x reader

Warnings: Kinda angst, Straight up sadness, Fluff at the end.

It must of been some sick joke your mind was playing on you as the words of the doctor played over and over in your mind like some tormenting movie that you were forced to watch.

"I'm sorry Mrs Sano but you're unable to bare a child"

The clear expression of the doctor with her soft saddened smile as she revealed the reason why you were struggling to fall pregnant etched into your memory. The image only causing more tears to spill from your eyes.

Your heart was sucken to the deepest pits within unable to come to terms that you would never have a child. You would never be able to hold a being that you carried for 9 months in your arms, you would never be a mother and to make it worst Shinichiro would never be a father.

You knew how important family was to Shinichiro, and how much he wanted one of his own. So, now with this reality presented infront of you, you knew what would be the outcome causing you to cry even more as you mourned a child you would never know.

'It's only a matter of time' your mind told you.

Your knew that once you would break the news to Shinichiro that soon, he would depart permanent from you. What was the use of being with a woman who couldn't even provide such a basic need and you would be alone child barren and with no hand to hold or shoulder to cry on.

The thought alone causing more tears to fall like a crashing wave on the rough rocks of the shore.

So heartbroken that you hadn't even heard your husband enter what was supposed to be your shared bedroom.

"Hey (Y/N) you see my wrench" he asked looking over at your figure. Your figure that was hunched over, with your hands covering your beautiful face as the most heart breaking sobs emitted from your lips.

Quickly Shinichiro moved to sit beside you, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull your closer, as you peaked through your fingers to see the worried expression on his face causing fresh tears to spill like a waterfall.

"What's wrong (Y/N)" Shinichiro asked softly waiting for your response; but he waited in vain as he was only met with silence and the sound of your tears.

"Are you sad because I ate the last pudding"

"I'm sorry I ate the last pudding I didn't mean to but I was so hungry and work was running late so I just-"

"I'm not sad about the pudding" you sniffled out with a laugh. Even when you were sad he was able to make you laugh, you would miss this quality of his so much, the thought alone drowning out the laughter that had escaped your lips.

"Then what's bothering you (Y/N)?" Shinichiro asked again.

You could hear the worry in his voice as he asked, and it only made your heart break further. How cruel it would be to break the news to him, like snatching away the kne joy he wanted.

"I dont wanna say you'll hate me" you said through tears.

"Come on (Y/N) there's nothing in this world you could do that would make you hate me, okay maybe if you ate the last pudding I'd be upset but I'd never hate you"

And as you heard Shinichiro words your confidence came back slowly, and yet there was still apart of your mind that told you that once you told him he would never be the same, he would never be yours again. Yet you knew it would be selfish to keep him in a world full of delusions only to one day have it ripped from below his feet.

So,with a deep breath and a mind full of doubt, you slowly removed your hands from your face. Your eyes now starring into his his as you spoke yourself into the future that you were terrified to be in.

"I can't have a child" You said hurriedly, forcing the words to come out in one breath.

"You mean you don't want one" Shinichiro said his eyes flickering down, his face painted with disappointment and hurt and you knew now what would be his next words.

'It's going to happen now' your mind said preparing you for the moment he would say he no longer wished to share a bed with you or a life.

"I thought you we agreed that we'd have a child and we'd have our own little family, could you please tell me why you don't want a child anymore?"

"Shinichiro it's not that I don't want one, I physically can't have one. The doctor said I'm unable to bare a child" You said as the repeated words of the doctor reached your ears again now coming from your own voice causing tears to spill once again.

Now both the pain of not being able to have a child and the stark realization that your husband was going to leave you were the reasons for the trail of tears streaming down your cheeks.

"(Y/N) I know this must be a very difficult thing for you to hear, and I want you to know that I'll be here for you, I'll be someone who you can really on for support, a hand to hold and shoulder to cry on when things feel to tough, I'll always be here for (Y/N) ... and as for us, we'll be fine. Just because you can't have a child doesn't mean we can't have one. We can adopt a child and as long as we love and care for it, it doesn't matter if it's not biologically ours or not as long as we have each other that's all that matter" Shinichiro said as his hand grabbed yours as his eyes starred into yours.

"You're not going to leave me?" You quietly asked, the fear of him still leaving you still heavily sitting on your mind.

"I didn't marry you to be a breeding machine, I married you because I wanted you to the the first person I see in the morning and the last at night. I married you because I love you and I don't want to live a life where you're not in it. I don't care about the rest, I just want you (Y/N).

And finally for the first time that day a smile finally appeared on your face at hearing Shinichiro's words.

Slowly your arms wrapped around his shoulders embracing him in a hug. You truly had married the kindest man in the world willing to accept and love you no matter what. No matter the hardships he would be beside you.

"I love you, Shinichiro"

"I love you too, (Y/N) ... besides now I don't need to use a rubber when we do it.

.

.

.

All rights reserved to @rinrinx2

[yeosatinyngz]

Hello! Happy 1st anniversary <3 I hope you have an amazing day!

Can I request Shinichiro with no.10 (Shinichiro: “I think I’m falling in love with you.” Reader: “I think I’m okay with that.”)

Hi! Thank you so much! <3 I hope you have an amazing day too and yes of course!

#10: “I think I’m falling in love with you.” “I think I’m okay with that.”

Join Event ➺ Masterlist

Shinichiro always chose to ignore the blossoming feelings he had for you. Ever since he laid eyes on you his world stopped and he lost the ability to speak. He was able to snap back to reality when he saw that you were close to Wakasa. He made a note to himself that no one would ever be interested in him when he has a handsome best friend like Wakasa.

Shinichiro was working on a bike when the door to his store opened signaling that a customer had just entered. “Welcome!” He greeted with his back facing towards the door, still working on the bike. “Hi Shin!” His heart skipped a beat at the sound of your voice. He turned towards you, “Hi Y/N, Waka’s not here.” Hearing this got you annoyed, he always brought up Wakasa when you just wanted to talk to him/spend time with him. “Yeah I know, I came here to see you. Why would I come here to see him?”

Your words struck him in his heart causing a pink flush to appear across his face. “Wouldn’t you rather see him though?” You walked towards him and bent down so your eyes were leveled with his. “When are you gonna realize that I would rather see you? I want to spend my time with you Shin, not Waka.” His eyes widened in shock as he stared into your eyes. In disbelief he quietly mumbled out, “I think I’m falling in love with you.” “I think I’m okay with that.” You said breaking him out of whatever trance he was. He started becoming a stuttering mess trying to save his ass from the sudden confession he spouted out.

You started laughing, “Do you know how cute you are?” “Huh?” He was confused as to what was happening, he came to the conclusion that this was probably a dream. He pinched himself to test his theory out and he couldn’t be more wrong when he felt the pain from where he pinched and the fact that you were still in front of him. Seeing this made you laugh again. “This isn’t a dream. I like you, you dork.” He quickly pulled you into his embrace. "I yearned to hear those words."

[moomi-na]

•부두 인형•

shinichiro x gn!reader (↑ its just pictures ok ?) nsfw, fantasy, 16+

• Shinichiro, who began to study dark magic.

• Shinichiro, who spends time with you during the day and acts like the cutest person in the world.

• Shinichiro, who takes your fallenhair home.

• Shinichiro, who sews the doll in the evening and puts your hair along with stuffing.

• Shinichiro who made your voodoo doll.

• Shinichiro, who fucks your voodoo doll.

• Shinichiro, who asks you how you spent last evening in the next day.

• Shinichiro, who sees you blushing and your hands shaking.😏😈

[8aji]

100% mulberry silk. // s.s.

pairing. shinichiro sano x reader

wc. 1.8k

tags/cw. MDNI, established relationship, pwp, smut, AFAB reader, oral (fem receiving), fingering, sub-ish!shinichiro, dub-con voyeurism, p in v, reader wears a dress but thats about it really!

a/n. based on a dress i really wanted but did not buy, im still mourning it ngl :,) ya'll should've seen it, it was so silky and beautiful and lovely and and- anyway this is the second or third smut ive ever written so pls be kind TT

m.list ˖ tags ˖ byi/dni

“You look so pretty with it,” he breathed out, letting his forehead rest against yours in a desperate attempt to keep himself upwards. The buttery texture of the silk against his fingers made him gulp. The way the fabric fell down your body, touching your skin in ways he craved to do as well lit a fire inside of him he seemed to be unable to put out. 

You sighed in satisfaction, toes curling in excitement as his calloused hands trailed up your legs, bunching the fabric of your dress until he reached your hips.

His hands were warm, they made you shiver as his thumbs played with the lace on the hem of your underwear. He would pretend to dip his fingers, waiting for you to sigh in relief before pulling away, subjecting you to the same gruelling teasing he was often the victim of.

“Keep it on for me, please.” He begged, words fueled by the unquenchable thirst prompted just by experiencing you.

You bit your lip to hide the whine bubbling in your throat, fervently nodding as his hands ghosted over your panties, teasing your clit by applying gentle pressure with one of his knuckles. “Just be careful with it.”

He hummed in response, whispering a needy thank you before he gave you a quick peck, followed by another and another, pulling giggles from the two of you. 

Time seemed to slow down as you watched him kneel before you, eyes blown with lust and hunger, looking up at you like you were his last meal. 

Once again, you fervently nodded as he wordlessly asked for permission to pull your panties down, nudging your waist with his nose while, once again, playing with the hem. 

He hooked his fingers over the lace, pulling on it and letting go, making you flinch in satisfaction and conjuring another whine from you. Every sound that fell from your lips only served to further his desire, dick hardening inside his pants as he desperately held back the urge to rut against your body. 

Giving a kiss to your clit over the fabric followed by a tentative lick, he basked in the grip you had on his hair. Soft yet commanding, even in the position you were in you guided him wherever you wanted, and he followed with no complaints.

He gave your clothed core one last kiss, gently sucking at the covered nub before peeling the soaked fabric from your skin, with a gentle grip on your calf as he helped you get it completely off. 

“Fuck, you're dripping.” He sighed in contentment, licking his lips as one of his fingers toyed with your entrance, collecting your wetness before sucking on his digit, groaning in delight. “You taste so good.”

Slowly, he gave your pussy another tentative lick, taking his time to savour your arousal and letting it pool on his tongue. Moving upwards, one of his hands kept your hips still, glued against the wall as he sucked on your clit. His other hand made their way back to your entrance, two digits curling upwards the moment they had sunk inside your walls. He let your moans wash over him, basking on the indirect price before speaking 

“You're so good to me,” his breath tickled your sensitive skin, making your hips stutter in his hold. “Can feel you squeezing my fingers”

The closer you pulled him in, the more enjoyment he got out of eating you out, Eagerly lapping at your juices. Feeling the way you desperately rutted against his face, tongue permanently enveloped by the taste of you, with his nose buried against your skin along with his fingers deep inside your cunt; it only made him up his rhythm.

“Shin I–“ your voice cracked, unable to hold back the moan that ripped from your throat. The man kneeling in front of you hummed in acknowledgement, patting the side of your thigh so you could rest his leg over his shoulder. He needed you impossibly closer. “Shin, if you don’t stop, I'm gonna– Aah! Fuck, Shin, you're gonna make me cum.” 

“Cum then.” He mumbled, the sound muffled as he continued with his ministrations, effortlessly licking and sucking, hitting all the right spots as if he had them memorised. “‘Need you to cum on my face.”

Your pussy clenched around his fingers at his words and the grip you had on his hair simultaneously tightened. With the leg he had placed/thrown over his shoulder, you pulled him closer, making him groan. 

“I’m–“ you whimpered, interrupting yourself as your mouth went dry, your thighs quivering. Your shoulders sagged against the wall, head lolling to the side as your breath tried to even itself out. His own breathless pants added to the blissful sensation, puffs of air warm against your sensitive clit. 

A lazy smile stretched on your face while you brushed your hand through his messy locks, taking in the sight of his cheek pressing against your inner thigh, skin flushed and overly warm, making a few strands of his hair stick to his forehead. He hummed in satisfaction as he willingly melted at your warmth, like he had been the one tipped over the edged

“That was good right?” He asked, voice buttery and laced with buzzing ease. He looked up at you through lidded doe eyes, the corners of his lips curling upwards into a soft smile. His pretty black orbs glistened along with his puffy lips under the dimmed lights in your bedroom. the more you kept looking at them the more you wanted to get a taste of you directly from his tongue.

You raked your fingers through his hair once again, basking in the way he melted against your touch, before you gently pulled on the strands, motioning him upwards.

Now standing, he rested his forehead against yours and you let the puffs of air leaving his lips caress your skin. His chest rose and fell in tandem with your own heartbeat, and for a moment you swore you could feel his desperation cursing down through your bloodstream.

The neediness he embodied was otherworldly, letting his body speak not through words but through its motions. And it was there, mere inches from a kiss, that you finally let out a previously contained whimper, mumbling ‘so good, you're so good’ with as much need of your own, before the two of you were crashing against each other in a synchronised yet desperate rhythm.

Hands everywhere, scrunching fabric and pulling it off while simultaneously trying to get a hold of every inch of skin available to the touch. The two of you could barely contain the muffled giggles at each other's clumsiness. But You couldn’t help it, just existing so close to Shinichiro felt like another brand of honey-like sweetness you couldn't describe.

He was quick to peel your underwear off your body, helping you step out of the garment before he worked on the zipper of his jeans; the strain of his pants had become too much for him, causing an uncomfortable yet pleasurable friction against his clothed member that almost forced a moan out of him once he pulled them off.

Pearlescent beads of precum dribbled down the reddened tip. He was drooling all for you, and it took all of your willpower not to get down on your knees and clean him up with your tongue. The two of you had other plans for the night, which you were quickly reminded of as he pressed his dick against your bare pussy, letting the tip press against your nub before dragging it downwards to your entrance, over and over again until the two of you were covered in a mess of both of your juices.

“Stop teasing,” you pressured through a shaky breath. By now, your head had settled in the crook of his neck, giving you the perfect view of your bodies sliding against each other. The sight in front of you forced you to swallow down a whimper, shutting your eyes close as the head nudged the hood of your clit.

“I– I can’t–” He panted, cheeks turning darker as he stumbled with the moan brewing inside his throat. “It feels so– so good like this I can’t stop.”

“C’mon Shin,” it was your turn to whine. It was unusual for your boyfriend to lose himself in his own pleasure, preferring to put yours over his any day. But whenever it happened, it was almost like his mind emptied itself until the only prevailing thought was to cum. “You always look so pretty inside of me, don’t you wanna see?”

He nodded desperately, biting down on his bottom lip with enough force to break the supple skin. If it weren’t for you putting pressure against it, you think he would’ve. And to your satisfaction, he let your finger enter his mouth without resistance, pulling you as close as possible before lining up against your entrance. 

At that exact moment he swore he could cum solely from the pressure of his tip being wrapped around your sticky warmth, one of his hands pressing against the wall to keep himself upright. Everything around him felt too good to be real, and for less than a couple of seconds his brain seemed to have deluded itself into believing he was actually dreaming. Almost angelical, you looked so beautiful, so pretty taking his cock inch by inch until he had fully sheathed himself inside. 

You wrapped your leg around his waist at the intrusion, the silky material of the dress scrunching against your waist and adding to the heightened sensation. His whole existence was permeated with a thick layer of want. You could feel it in his touch, his breath, his whimpers. You could feel it sizzling as you left wet kisses behind his ear and down his neck. You could feel it whenever his hips stutter inside of you, fighting against his own will to maintain a constant rhythm.

Nudging his cheek with your nose, you grabbed his face with your hand to keep him steady for a couple of seconds, leaving a couple of pecks on his lips and giggling along with him whenever he tried to sloppily kiss you back. 

“More,” you mumbled, “‘want more.”

And like the good boyfriend he was, he followed through.

Almost like drunk in you, he quickened his pace like his only goal was to make you feel good. Two of his slender fingers made their way towards your clit, ghosting over where you needed them the most and waiting for you to whine before he started rubbing soft circles over it. 

The squelching noises of both your bodies were borderline pornographic; louder and louder with which thrust and groan and whimper. And like you had mentioned, and in spite of the word sounding out of place within the confinements of your shared obscenity, the view of him inside of you was beyond pretty.

Or at least, that’s what Wakasa thought while he fisted his own cock, peering from behind the thin strip that had been left ajar; by mistake or not, he didn’t care, it was all for him to observe.

© 2023 SHINACHIRO ; Do not repost my work. Do not recommend my work outside of tumblr. Do not translate my work. affiliated with @tokyometronetwork

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 80 }

cigarette flavored kisses.

shinichiro sano x fem.reader

you always hated working the night shift at this diner, especially on a saturday night. it was always so loud, especially when these wannabe gangs kept coming in.

despite it all, you did your best to serve the customers and save up some money going from paycheck to paycheck. sometimes, the boys would get a little too handsy, but you kept your lips sealed shut as per your boss's own advice.

"just serve 'em with a smile. they're our regulars and regulars always have a special spot here."

god how you wished you could just disappear, or better yet, find a more decent job that paid just as well. but alas, you couldn't find any other alternatives, nor could you afford to.

which was why you were currently so miserable at the moment.

during the later portion of your shift, a customer kept pestering you while you waited tables. he had his eyes set on you since the moment he walked in, and he just couldn't take the hint.

you even resorted to making up a story about how you had a boyfriend that was going to kick his ass if he didn't stop, yet still- he persisted. even going as far as to follow you when you left work after your shift ended, keeping you pinned against him and the wall behind you.

"come on, give ol' me a chance. there's no way you gotta boyfriend if you're working like this. i can support you, babe, me and my crew own this city. you don't even have to worry about a damn thing!"

"i told you, i have a boyfriend and he will kill you if he sees you flirting with me! just let me go, already!"

a deep voice calls out your name, catching your attention. coming towards you was a young man you frequently saw eating at the diner. sometimes, he came with his little brother and sister, always behaving so achingly sweet while in their company.

he steps closer, and you could see his dark eyes and pale skin as a cigarette hung from his lips. he takes a drag from it while grabbing a hold of your harasser's shirt, succeeding in pulling him off of you as he takes out the burning tip of the cigarette against the man's shirt.

"shit, s-sano, t-take it easy man, i didn't think she was yours- oof!" the tall man punches the harasser in his face before taking a protective stance in front of you. "you trying to take my woman away from me?"

"n-no man, i swear, had i known she belonged to you, i wouldn't have- i'm sorry okay?!" it's then that he finally takes the hint, bolting away while leaving you alone with the man simply known as sano.

only when he disappears does the tall man let out a string of curses, holding on to the hand that he had used to punch your harasser away. the sight of his tough guy act quickly melting away makes you giggle a bit, causing sano to grimace.

"h-hey, are you okay? did that asshole hurt you or anything?"

you shake your head, gently taking a hold of his arm as you decided to lead him back to your apartment to help with healing his bruised hand. "no, but you certainly got hurt."

he groans, "no fair, it hurts my ego seeing a pretty girl laughing at me when i just wanted to defend her."

"and you did your job perfectly well, if i may say so myself." you slide your grip down from his arm to take a hold of his hand. it felt warm in yours, and you found yourself not wanting to let him go. there was a sweetness about sano that you couldn't deny, and it absolutely drew you into him.

"how did you know my name, anyways?" you ask him, staring directly into his dark eyes. he blushes a bit at your question, even managing to turn red from beneath the lamplight as he coughs and points down at your name tag still secured to the front of your work uniform.

"o-oh, right." you felt stupid for not realizing how your name tag was still on, but his soft whisper manages to make you feel better when he admits, "i like coming to that diner just to see you. mikey and emma keep pushing me to ask you out, but i always end up losing my nerves and gettin' tongue tied around you."

his confession was way more than you could ever ask for, feeling your own cheeks become heated in response. shutting your eyes momentarily, you let out a sigh before telling him, "you should have asked me out. only a fool would reject you, mr. sano."

it's then that he stops walking, with his tall form now standing in front of you. he frames at your face with his uninjured hand, thumb caressing almost lovingly against your bottom lip. "shinichiro."

"huh?"

"call me shinichiro." his touch was still so soft against your skin, and his features were so beautiful to you that you found it difficult to look away from him. you were both mesmerized by each other, remaining completely silent until he suddenly blurts out "can i kiss you?"

with a stiff nod, you allow shinichiro to adjust his hold on you before leaning down to meet your lips in a sweet kiss. it was a little awkward, but soon enough, his lips found a rhythm against yours, slanting perfectly against them as he kissed you with a fervor you had never felt before.

your first ever kiss tasted of coffee and cigarettes, and you found yourself not minding the fact that you had managed to capture the heart of this soft delinquent.

a.n. - here's another update bc reading these latest chapter for tokyo revengers makes me realize i may be a shinichiro sano girl after all.

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[yusax]

shin x fem!reader • english isn't my first language content: childhood friends to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, hurt(?)/comfort

Shinichiro was having a crisis. Only a few days ago, Black Dragon has received the information that an opposing gang had been planning on attacking the Black Dragons and overthrowing their leader to claim the gang as their own. Now, they wouldn't have known this if they hadn't coincidentally gotten their hands on it. Luckily, the note had fallen from the pocket of one of the enemy's members and somehow found their way to Takeomi. Yet, only knowing about the possible attack was not as much as a help as needed. They needed more information to actually prepare themselves enough for Black Dragon to be safe but despite the help of each divison's president, Shinichiro couldn't make up a good plan to get said information. That was until one of the members proposed something. "And what if we use Y/N to get the information?" receiving confused looks, the member continued, "If we send her to - I don't know - seduce one of the higher ups, we might be able to find out more." Shinichiro didn't know what to think. While some of the members agreed, saying that Y/N was charismatic and pretty enough to do such a job, other members thought the idea was straight out of a wackass holywood movie and were about to smack him for proposing something this stupid. Shinichiro agreed with both sides; Y/N really was pretty. Having been friends with her for years, he knew how many heads she made turn. He was well aware of how beautiful she was. How her lips catch any men's gaze, how her eyes were powerful alone to make a man fall for her but the idea of using her to infiltrate on another gang made him hesitate. He would never want to put her in such a vulnerable position and expose her to such danger. "Then, what if we send a few of our members with her? They will stay a little further away but will be able to intervene in some way if something happens." While the others all agreed and even his friends thought the idea was the best they could come up with, Shinichiro wasn't sure if it could be turned into reality. Even if he himself was to agree, he knew Y/N was the one that had to say yes to the whole thing.

"I don't want to." well, that was quick. Despite cheering on the inside, he still had a problem. If she wasn't going to say yes, then they would have to come up with a new plan and they really didn't have the time for that. The opposing gang could attack any moment and none of the Black Dragons - Shinichiro included - wanted to take the risk by wasting more time. "Please, Y/N, you are the only possible option we have. Without you, Black Dragon is doomed." Saying that outloud made him realise how egotistical he sounded. So, he really wanted to put his childhood friend in that position only so those highschool delinquents wouldn't lose their gang? He could tell she thought the same way, maybe even saw his request as more critical than he perceived it to be. Y/N was quite good at recognizing things that laid under the surface, always having been able to find more flaws in a plan than the Black Dragon members did combined. If it wasn't for the danger, he would've made her one of his members a long time ago.

What Shinichiro didn't know was that there were many more reasons for her not to do it than he could possibly think of. She had feelings for Shinichiro ever since they were 4 years old. Having kept that a secret for all these years and never having shown any romantic or sexual interest in a man other than the guy right infront of her, she never had her first kiss and because she was still waiting for the day he will finally stop asking out every other girl, so that she could finally make a move on him - or at least a more obvious one because he is oblivious as fuck - she continued waiting for him to be her first everything (ehehe). Thus meaning, her first date, first kiss, first boyfriend and if everything goes well her first and only husband. (bless her heart, she a bit delulu). So naturally, she really didn't want to flirt with a guy she didn't know and wasn't attracted to.

Despite the inner conflict, she sympathized with him. Y/N knew he would never want to put her in such a position unless it were really important to him. She glanced over at him and could see the expression of despair on his face. This was hard on him too, she knew that, but losing all those first times she wanted him to be to that other guy made her quite sad. After taking some time to think, she finally let out a sigh and suggested a compromise. Even though she wasn't that serious and wasn't able to predict whether his reaction would be a good or a negative one, she still let the words fall from her tongue. "How about... you.. are..." he waited for her to finish, anticipating her next words. "How about you kiss me." His eyes widened at her question. "H-huh?" "I mean - that way I wouldn't lose my first kiss to some guy and I could also gain some experience.. for the mission.." her voice got smaller at the end of her sentence as her eyes met the floor. She was nervous, obviously. She didn't know if it was okay for her to ask such a question when it was supposed to be a compromise for him to get what he wanted. She felt like she was blackmailing him but before she could take it back and say it was just a joke, he spoke up. "Is..that all?" she looked up at his flustered expression, noticing the red tint on his cheeks. "M..hm" he nodded his head slowly, as if trying to take in what just happened. "Well, then.. since it's for the mission,..sure". The thought that he was only letting her kiss him for this stupid mission pained her a little but she was still looking forward to be able to finally have this moment with him. Scooting closer, she shyly laid her hand on his collarbone before moving it upwards to cup his jaw. Y/N leaned in, hestitant, their gazes moved to each other's lips before flicking up to meet only to look back down again. Maybe she should ask again if it really was okay for him but when he gently placed his hands on her hips, she closed the distance and gave him a soft brief peck, before leaning in again and connecting their lips for a little longer this time. The quick soft kisses turned into more intense ones; letting her feelings get the upper hand, she couldn't hold back anymore and kissed him more intimately. Neither did he push her away nor did he stay unmoving. He kissed her back and reciprocated the energy she put in this kiss. After a while, they parted lips, heads still close to each other as they looked into each other's eyes again. "Is there anything more you want to practise?" Her love-drunken eyes flicked from his eyes to his lips again, she shook her head and parted her lips ere looking up again "Just tell me if you liked the kiss". His gaze moved to her lips again, a subtle smile formed on his lips "I think I need another one to tell". She smiled before leaning in again.

[Time skip]

The day arrived and while she and three other Black Dragon members were on their way to infiltrate her and get the information needed, Shinichiro stayed restless at the Black Dragon hideout. Takeomi and Wakasa made jokes about whether she will like the other guy's kiss more than Shinichiro's. Obviously, Shinichiro had told his closest friends about the kiss and obviously, they teased him about it, but now that they were making these jokes while he was in such distress, he regreted having told them anything. The other Black Dragon members were slightly concerned about their leader's current state, which is why they tried cheering him up. "Ah don't worry, Shinichiro-kun, she will be fine. The others are with her, there is no need to worry for her safety." "Ah, it's not that but rather... " "But rather what?" the asked, not quite understanding what their leader was on about. "Yeah, Shin-chan, I bet he is ugly anyway." Benkei said, chiming in. Shinichiro didn't know if Benkei was messing with him. Oh if only teddybear boy didn't have all these muscles, Shinichiro would beat him up for poking fun at him like that (yeah sure, as if he could land a punch on that giant). Noticing Shinichiro's sour expression, the members realized what Benkei was on about and couldn't help but snicker at the raven-haired boy.

[Time skip because I am getting bored]

Weeks have passed, the Black Dragon leaders were able to prepare for the attack and prevent the downfall of their gang. The Black Dragons were celebrating the victory of their latest fight and were finally able to relax after all that stress, but regardless of the festive mood, something wouldn't let Shinichiro go which was why he found himself in her living room, asking his friend a rather odd question. "You.. want us.. to do what?" Y/N was baffled, who wouldn't be? To be honest, he didn't know how he ended up in this situation in the first place, it is as if his body had moved on its own and came here before he was able to register anything or were able to prevent himself from forming the words that left his lips moments prior. Luckily, Y/N's parents were out of town, otherwise someone witnessing this ordeal would have been even more uncomfortable than it already was for him. "I- can we practise my kissing this time? Last time, you were the one not wanting to embarass yourself for not knowing how to do it properly, so now I would.. like to learn that too so that I don't embarass myself.." She looked at him in disbelieve, her lips parting but it took some times for the words to escape. "I-" she let out a brief laugh, "why? Is there someone you like?" she was smiling but there wasn't anything to smile about. The thought alone pained her but whether Shinichiro noticed that is hard to tell, he was way too preoccupied with his own thoughts to pay attention to those subtle hints in her demeanor. Taking a second to think, he let out a soft "maybe". If he would've known how suffocating the silence, that followed his words, would be, he would've just stayed quiet but it was already too late. He didn't know what was worse; having put himself in this situation or being the reason why her eyes were glossing over. Now it was obvious that he had hurt her. Something he worried about weeks prior. How ironic that it was him who hurt her emotionally with his words and not that other guy physically with one of the actions Shinichiro was fearing. He didn't know what to say, he could only stand there with widened eyes, unable to do anything to soothe her, thinking he might even worsen it.

"But,.. I don't want you to kiss another girl." he looked at her confused, waiting for her to elaborate it. "I don't want you to kiss someone that isn't me. Don't waste a kiss on someone else,.. please." She sounded desperate, yet he couldn't understand why that would be. "But.. you kissed another guy too" he said but she shook her head. "I never kissed him, Shinichiro. I never wanted to and it was never my plan to do so either. I lied. I know I shouldn't have but I couldn't do it anymore. I've liked you for so long but it never seemed like you felt the same way. I wanted you for myself, not for any other girl you had a crush on for less than a month. I wanted to kiss you so bad, I felt like a fucking idiot being so in love with you. We kissed before when we were children but- as we got older the meaning changed and a simple kiss wasn't just a simple kiss anymore and I missed it so much, I'm sorry for having done that, having lied to you but I-" Y/N went on and on with her rambling that she didnt even notice when he got closer to her, put his hand on her cheek and his lips on hers. His lips were so soft, just like she remembered them. They melted against hers and molded perfectly as if they were meant to be. As if they weren't whole without the other's against them. He kissed her so fondly, yet the intensity of his feelings seeped through it like there was nothing holding it back. And there wasn't. There wasn't a need to do so in the first place. He knew how she felt now. He could kiss her to his heart's content. He didn't have to hide away the love he held for her all those years. Yes, he did confess to other girls before but it was rather to get over the girl he fell for when he was just 8 years old. And thinking back, it might have been the reason why he got rejected so often. Maybe they knew that his claimed "feelings" for these girls weren't real, and it might have been better that they didn't agree to go on a date with him because if they would have, he wouldn't be where he was right now. In her house. With her in his arms. With her lips on his. And her hand on his neck as the other one gently held onto his upper arm. The ticking of the clock signaled another minute had passed but he didn't see himself stopping anytime soon. It was already time for dinner but the only thing he was hungry for was her. He wanted all of her. He kissed her like a starving man, as if he would never be able to do this ever again. As if this was the last meal before his execution, savoring the taste of her as if he would lose his ability to taste. Eventually, her oxygen ran low and she gently pushed him away, her hands resting on his torso. He didn't move away, faces still close to each other, he gazed at her with a lovestruck look, one he had to hold back the last time he kissed her. Y/N was tongue tied. She couldn't even think of what to ask despite it feeling like there was so many questions to phrase, but at the same time it also felt as if she already knew the answer to all of them. "I never said it was another girl I was talking about" he smiled at her before she looked down, still breathless from the kiss. He kissed her rose tinted cheeks lightly before crouching down a little to be on eye level with her. he took a moment to gaze inside her dazed eyes before asking "Do you want me to ask or do I already have your answer?" When he saw the confused expression on her face, he stood straight before saying

"Can I be your boyfriend?"

_____________________________________________

word count: 2607

This took so long and I know I was using some words over and over again but my English ain't good enough to come up with different ones 💀. Shoutout to my friend for proof-reading all of this, if you guys notice a mistake, it's her fault.

I got so much more to write but dawg my brain is too drained for that 😔. Anyways, bye

[st444rgirl-service]

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˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ — Content belongs to @st-444-rgirl @st444rgirl-service @st444rgirl-life. I do NOT allow plagiarism, mofification or translations of my works on other platforms.

[effetsecndaires]

— 𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐫𝐞𝐯 𝐦𝐞𝐧 + 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬.

➺ INCLUDES: wakasa imaushi, haruchiyo sanzu, hanma shuji, shinichiro sano, ran haitani (all of legal age, timeskip or bonten) x fem!reader

➺ CONTENT WARNING | this post contains explicit porn links!! you may need to have a twitter account or change your privacy settings to be able to see them. The women on the videos are white-skinned + please do not interact if you are under 18.

➺ NOTE | tokrev version !! again, the links will probably disappear after a little while but i'll do my best to replace them or find similar ones when that happens!

➟ WAKASA

Wakasa knows your body like the back of his hand, and he knows it. The look on your face along with those sweet, pathetic little sounds you make as he pounds into you tells him everything he needs to know. He's only been fucking you for a couple minutes and you're already moaning, babbling and begging him to go harder, your tits bouncing with each thrust of his hips.

↳ LINK ↲ [updated!]

➟ SANZU

Sanzu could spend hours playing with your pussy before even thinking of touching you with his cock. He’ll have your back pressed flush against his chest, fingers rubbing your clit in fast, frantic circles, his hard cock poking your lower back as he watches you squirm and whimper for more.

↳ LINK ↲

➟ HANMA

Hanma fucking loves your tits. It doesn't matter what size they are, he'll have his hands and mouth on them every time you ride him, sucking a nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it while his free hand gives equal attention to the other breast, pinching and rolling the sensitive bud between his index finger and thumb.

↳ LINK ↲

➟ SHINICHIRO

Shinichiro loves giving more than receiving, and he’s not afraid of letting things get messy. He’ll greedily lap up your pussy while he fingers you, his index, middle and ring fingers buried deep in your cunt as his cum leaks out in thick loads, trickling down his hand as he pumps it out of you.

↳ LINK ↲

➟ RAN

Ran has fucked you on every flat surface in every room of your shared house, but his favorite place to fuck is the bathroom. He’ll have you laid on the counter, one leg lifted and propped against the sink while he fucks you from behind, your moans echoing off the thin, definitely not soundproof walls. (Bonus point if you're in front of a mirror)

↳ LINK ↲

[vixensbrainrotts]

TR men reacting to little kids wooing you

Content: reactions

Tropes: established relationship

Warnings: none (lmk if im wrong)

Summary: A little boy, perhaps four or five of age comes waddling over to you two whilst you're out on a date together and offers you a flower, confessing his spontaneous love for you. How does your man react to that?

Vixen’s two cents: hi! This has been sitting in my drafts forever so i need to get it out cause it’s collecting cobwebs. It’s sort of a random idea but whatever, i found it entertaining. Also im editing this in the car and its giving me a stroke why is the road so fucking uneven? If you have any ideas for me to write please please please my requests ans messages are open! Yeah, let me know if there are any other characters that fit those types and enjoy!

(Takemichi, Chifuyu, Souya, Hakkai, Shinichiro, Sanzu (I don’t care what anyone says. Shy Sanzu is forever on my agenda), Inui)

Nearly deceased type, it took him so long to get you. How HOW is this little ass kid wooing you better than he could ever dream of? What the actual fuck was happening? He couldn’t believe his eyes when that actual toddler came up to you with a flower, the stem freshly plucked, and a glimmer in the kid‘s hopeful eyes. The boy had almost serenaded you the way he sang praises to you: „excuse me miss, you’re really pretty! Would you accept my flower please?“. And what was even more unbelievable, was when you giggled and accepted the flower giddily. Then the little boy crossed the line: „can I have a kiss in return Miss?“. And you did. You pecked the cheek of the boy meek two minutes after meeting him! Unbelievable! It took him 3 dates to even hold your hand. Outrizzed by a five year old.

(Nahoya, Mikey, Baji)

Ready to fight the kid. He's deadass about it too, rolling up his sleeves and cracking his knuckels and snapping the kinks in his neck, looking menacingly at that poor little boy. He doesn't care that this may be the kid's first crush, he'll crush him in return. You were his damnit and he was gonna prove it to anyone who tried him. Kids included. When you pull at his arm though, prompting him to calm down, he stops a little. What do you mean you dont want him to establish his dominance? He's genuinely stumped and just kinda stares at you for a second, watching you intensely as you lean down to the boy, whispering something in his little ear and taking the flower from him. The boy giggles at you, his former horror dissipated, instead replaced with a furious blush that spread all the way down his neck and up his ears. He blew you a kiss before skipping away, giddily going back to whatever he was doing beforehand. Your boyfriend turns you around by the shoulders immediately and gives you a harmless glare. “What the fuck was that about?” But he doesn’t get a response, as you just wrap your arms around him and laugh. “You’re so cute when you’re jealous!” Well… that wasnt the answer he was looking for but he’ll take it.

(Ran, Shion, Draken, Benkei, Wakasa)

Sitting back and watching the show. He finds the little kids advances hilarious and will gladly watch the little shrimp try to win you over whilst you’re trying your hardest not to burst out laughing. “So sweets, how old are you anyway?” The boy asks you with a smirk on his face. “Too old for you.” You answer incredulously, just about ready to cry from laughter. “No no no baby, no one has to know! It can just be between the two of us and that’s fineeee!” He draws out the syllables and leans one elbow on table you and your boyfriend are sitting at. Your boyfriend all the while has probably pulled out a phone, discreetly filming the whole thing whilst leaning back and hiding his tears. You shoot both boys an amused look and then answer the awaiting kid. “Come back to me in a few years and maybe we can arrange something, yeah?” The little kids eyes widen as he looks at you with a determined smile. “Yes! You won’t regret it! And I’ll beat up your wannabe boyfie over here once I’m strong enough too!” He exclaims and runs off leaving you howling in laughter and your boyfriend, who is suddenly enraged by a child, fumes silently, sending daggers across the room. “Relax baby.” You reach a hand over the table to hold his, wiping the tears from your eyes. “Don’t touch me.” He hisses and puts the phone down, crossing his arms in fake offense.

(Hanma, Kokonoi, Izana, Rindou)

The false hope typa guy. In this case, the boy made the mistake of coming up to HIM and innocently asking for your name. “Why, you like what you see?” Your boyfriend uses language much too mature for the little kid, but he gets a timid response of “yeah, she’s real pretty..” nevertheless. Your boyfriend chuckles and pats him on the shoulder. “I say go for it, I’m sure you’ve got a chance with her!” The little boy has wide eyes and an open mouth “Really? You sure she doesn’t have some super big ‘n scary boyfriend?” He has to suppress laughter when he answers. “I’m sure she doesn’t, go talk to her, ask her for her name and tell her that I said hi too.” And with that, he’s sent the kid on his way. Your boyfriend watches him shyly go up to you and pat your leg slightly to get your attention. He watches you smile down at the little boy and talk to him, your eyes widening and laughing when you exchange a few words with the kid. When he sees fit, he comes stalking over to the two of you and wraps his arm around your waist and smirks at the kid. “Hey there.” You greet your boyfriend and turn to look at him. “Have you met—“ he guesses that you’re about to introduce him to the little boy but he doesn’t care to listen, and leans down to shush your lips with a long, over-the-top kiss, even going as far as to cracking one eye open to look at the little boys horrified face before finally pulling away. You’re a little dazed and very confused when you look down and find your little admirer gone. You throw your boyfriend an accusing look but he only raises his hands in surrender, claiming innocent with a smug smile on his face.