yes, they’re the same! although his touch/other characteristics are described as human-like by shin, it should still feel ambiguous to the reader since his narration is everything but reliable (especially due to trauma and his memories of the old hiyori, or the unconscious hopeful feeling that he never really changed — even though it's basically impossible and shin has to remind himself of that). tl;dr, it's entirely up to the reader to imagine whether or not shin's perceptions are accurate — personally, i imagine shin would be slightly delusional/in denial at first and gradually accept reality, that is, acknowledging the fact this hiyori's not the same one he knew because his old friend was fabricated by illusions. his fiancé (and husband later on) is midori, someone who manages to make him feel even worse than his old friend did, and someone who lacks the warmth he used to have. he finds himself forever attached to him regardless

(oh we don't talk about the doctor/patient fic)

(sure thing ^_^ this took a good while to write, sorry!)

tags: established relationship, trans shin, doctor/patient roleplay, blood kink? blood as lube, fingering, consensual but certainly not safe or sane

Shin’s immune system was as weak as his bones.

As he sneezed for the nth time of the day, an unwanted realization greeted his mind — he would have to call him, wouldn’t he?

His old friends would find his predicament quite silly, too, were they still in contact with him. Or alive, generally speaking. There was no way to know when someone like Sou Hiyori came into the picture, when someone like him put a ring on one’s finger.

It could be rather odd to feel anxious at the prospect of phoning your fiancé, after all. One that would soon move in with you, too. In the depths of Shin’s mind, though, a monster resided: the so-called embarrassment paired with an even worse resentment.

So he had come to rely on someone else to exist and function like a (debatably) healthy human being. Whatever. The idea itself made him nauseous to no end, yes, but he could always sweep it under the rug and proceed to demand cuddles from a literal insane individual who probably had playing chess and manslaughter as his personal favorite hobbies, knowing him — did torturing Shin count, too? He wondered.

As his cold fingers clicked the call button, he couldn’t help but sigh into the mattress. Perhaps shameful would be a better word choice for his dilemma, considering his condition as a Hiyori-proclaimed clown.

Shin liked to think that it was all Hiyori’s fault, somehow, just like how devoted believers sometimes blame their own gods when facing hardships. He was definitely an atheist, though.

“I think I’m sick.” He mumbled, barely registering that his raspy voice sounded concerningly similar to a dying man’s. Cough. “Can you come over?”

Hiyori hummed. It was one of those noncommittal sounds that could basically mean if you killed yourself in front of my very eyes i wouldn’t even flinch, or I would bury you alive with a pretty bouquet of flowers if given the chance, or perhaps even I’m madly in love with you but I can’t be normal about it. Knowing Hiyori, the case was likely a junction between the three.

“Why?” Was the simple question that left his lips, dry and unnerving in the special way he liked to pronounce short responses.

Shin clicked his tongue, unyielding. “Can’t a sick man want some comfort?”

The momentary silence was enough for him — was the other man gushing over the painfully infatuated behavior, or merely laughing about its predictableness? Only time would tell.

The time was approximately two seconds later. “You already find comfort in my presence again, I see. Are you really sick?”

Shin wouldn’t let himself mull over the word again. “I wouldn’t fake illnesses for a man, no, thank you.”

“Ahahah, I figured. No one else would accept you like I do, my love.” Hiyori casually stated, grinning. Shin hated him. “What do you want me to do about it, then? You were sick just a few weeks ago.”

“Bring me medicine.” It was difficult not to cough into his fist as he talked. “It’s already— urgh, just come over, okay? I’m tired. I feel hot, and disgusting—”

“That’s because you are.” The words came as easily as passing comments on the weather. “I’m on my way, darling! Wait for me.”

It was not like Shin had anywhere to go.

Somewhere between fifteen minutes and seven hours later, Hiyori arrived.

Shin’s blurry vision did a terrible job at locating the new guest, lazily moving around in an attempt to be faster than him. Needless to say, he still jumped when someone touched his shoulders and whispered, “Boo!”

He couldn’t believe it worked. The palpable amusement in his fiancé’s eyes told him that the feeling was mutual.

“I’m on my deathbed,” he pointed to his makeshift pillow fort as if to prove a point, “yet you still treat me like this.”

“Oh, my poor beloved.” The shameless man quietly plopped down by his side, crossing his legs in a carefree manner. He did not have a single fuck to give, clearly. “Whatever shall I do to lessen your sorrows?”

Shin started to realize, in fact, that maybe calling him hadn’t been one of his greatest ideas at all.

“Just— what do couples do when one of them gets sick? Do something normal—” Okay, perhaps that was asking too much of a freak. “Ugh, I don’t know. Where’s my medicine?”

Hiyori seemed to be focused on something else entirely, evidently ignoring his wishes. It wasn’t an uncommon reaction, per se, but his silence was worrisome. “Sore throat?”

One of Shin’s eyebrows went up. “Huh?”

“How is your throat?” Hiyori asked, then.

He stared at his creepy, sweet fiancé. If he could choose to have any superpower, it would be professional Hiyori understander — even though he was far more skilled than the average person at figuring out the intricacies of his lover’s behavior.

“Uh, it hurts. A little bit.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Oh, alright.” Hiyori calmly nodded, getting up from the bed and speed walking to the door like one of Slenderman’s unknown descendants. He had an uncanny ability to appear and disappear from Shin’s field of view at will, it seemed.

“Where are you going…?” Shin muttered — to nobody in particular, since no response came — and let out a wistful sigh.

He felt an incoming wave of nausea, perhaps fueled by his fiancé’s sudden departure, perhaps by the light fever making him feel particularly ill and whiny. He was even slightly grateful for having such an asshole partner, at times; a loving and caring man would likely be witnessing his laughable state for hours on end.

Just as he wondered if a ‘are you tired of me?’ or maybe a ‘if you leave me again i’ll hunt your ass down’ text would suffice, a grinning individual unceremoniously re-entered the room.

And he was— oh, oh no.

“No,” with horror apparent in his expression, he nearly screamed, “no— what? The fuck? Get out.”

Hiyori’s ears and brain didn’t agree with the order, unsurprisingly. “Why would I leave my favorite patient alone?”

Shin would probably end his own life in a few seconds and leave him instead. “Hiyori. Why are you dressed like that?”

It was a futile question, of course, because his astronomically stupid fiancé would clearly wear something like that if given the perfect chance.

Hiyori shrugged, looking down at his own clothes as if they weren’t a big deal. As if the black letters spelling Dr. Sou Hiyori, carefully etched in his medical white coat, meant absolutely nothing in particular.

“I’m here to take care of you, of course.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

His doctor tutted, of all things — Shin was going to die. “I’m in charge of your recovery, you poor thing. I know what’s best for you.”

“Okay,” he rolled his eyes, unable to retort those absurdities any further, “give me the meds.”

“Sure thing! I almost forgot about that.” The coy little gesture of scratching his cheek was saying the complete opposite. “Do you prefer swallowing a pill, or liquid?”

Weird way to phrase it, Shin thought, but ultimately decided to toss his suspicion away. “Liquid, I think? I hope you don’t mean in a syringe.”

“I would never.” He totally would. “You could be referring to it metaphorically, though. Hmm. Do you even possess such mental capacity?”

Shin blinked tiredly. “What are you talking about, now?”

“About you sucking me off, clearly.” Hiyori stated, disgustingly calm. If his throat weren’t so close to declaring war against the rest of his organism, Shin wouldn’t feel so utterly offended by the suggestion. “Ah, they do say engaging in sexual activities is good for one’s health.”

“Fuck off.” With closed eyes, Shin briefly pondered if there was still any possibility of escaping the inevitable danger ahead. An unstoppable force versus immovable object kind of situation — although Hiyori’s random peaks of Shin-induced libido were anything but avoidable. “Just give me a pill.”

“I’d rather fuck you.” Hiyori raised a finger to emphasize his courteous affirmation. “Well, you see, I’m not trying to take advantage of your current position. I always make sure to take advantage of you, sick or not.”

“Yeah, I appreciate it.” Canceling their engagement wouldn’t be enough to deter his violent urges, but strangling another human being was forbidden by law. Unfortunately.

Hiyori carefully tilted his head to the side, examining him with his characteristic ominous grin — it had grown slightly fonder, though, over the months. “So?”

Shin groaned. “So what?”

The other man stared at his sick partner as if he had just deeply wronged him. “Why aren’t you undressing?”

“You— hah, you really want to…?” Shin diverted his eyes to the nearest wall, biting his lower lip. He could confidently say that he wasn’t in the mood at all, but seeing Hiyori so strangely eager to touch him was… unusual, to say the least.

He tentatively stole another glance at his fiancé.

The white coat contoured his body perfectly well, fitting his form not too tightly, but not to the point that it appeared baggy, either. Shin may have gulped at the sight of a black tie instead of the usual red one, giving him a slightly different look.

Crazy people are always hotter, Hiyori once said to him — over a cringey live action adaptation of a BL novel he had randomly found and insisted on watching together, for some reason —, and despite having initially responded with a blunt ‘fuck no’, Shin was now disturbingly inclined to agree.

As he avoided his gaze at all costs, clothes slowly started to slip off his body. It was awkward to get naked knowing very well that he was being intently watched, studied, and judged by a horny madman who had as many scientific curiosities regarding his fiancé as he probably had with an earthworm.

The thought of engaging in such… shameless acts, in the beginning of their relationship, pretty much bordered on absurdity to Shin. Among a hundred other thoughts, there was one that constantly repeated itself in his mind: That guy’s gonna torture and kill me as soon as I undress. No, he’d do something worse, like— making fun of my old scars, or trying to pierce my nipples non-consensually, or something.

(Hiyori hadn’t done anything that outrageous, in fact. Which, somehow, was even worse. Unpredictable fucker.)

Eventually, he stopped being so anxious to initiate this kind of interaction, realizing that Hiyori was much more interested in messing with living, breathing beings.
Shin’s logic was flawed, perhaps, but not unjustified.

When his final piece of clothing met the ground, a sudden weight was immediately placed on top of him.

“You told me you’d stop pouncing on me like that, you—” He never managed to finish that sentence, feeling something moist and pointy quickly press into the side of his neck. When the old marks were just about to fade, too, he scowled. “I’ll kill you.”

“Try your best.” Hiyori murmured, too engrossed in biting his flesh to care. “If you’re trying to make me hard, that is.”

“Disgusting.” Shin responded, yet still turned his head to give him more space.

He could feel a small laugh reverberating from the other man, vibrating against his skin due to their proximity. Shin helplessly rested his hand on his fiancé’s nape, sighing soundly as his neck gradually became redder.

“Hm? Are you tired?” Hiyori nonchalantly questioned, distancing his mouth from the damaged skin.

“Of you, yes.” He tried to roll his eyes, but that, too, made his headache worse. “Mm… now my neck’s also sore because of you.”

“My prime objective is to make you sore all over, y’know?”

From the satisfied look on that freak’s face, he had totally seen the scornful glare coming.

“You don’t have to say it like that.”

“Aww. And you really shouldn’t treat your doctor like that.”

“My doctor should be in jail,” Shin apologetically rubbed a hand over Hiyori’s, because he wasn’t a strong soldier, “but life isn’t fair, is it?”

Hiyori’s eye twitched in a way that could only indicate that his patience was wearing thin. He kept a carefree smile on his face, nevertheless. “You’re awfully talkative for a sick person. Perhaps I should make you unable to speak.”

Shin’s breath hitched for a second, although he quickly gave him a tired look. “Are you threatening me?”

Hiyori shrugged, no longer waiting before roaming his hands all over his partner’s torso. “Hmm. My answer depends on what would turn you on the most.”

The other man gasped at the contact, staring at Hiyori’s hands in offense as they unashamedly groped his chest — there was nothing for him to grab, really —, yet Shin still found himself miserably aroused.

In the corner of his half-lidded eyes, Shin distantly registered something peeking out of Hiyori’s pocket. He blindly reached for it in curiosity, then, as well as a poor attempt to mask his strong interest in his fiancé’s actions.

“Oh? Who gave you the permission to do that?” Hiyori swatted his hand like an inconvenient fly. “Are you that eager to use this?”

Shin suddenly wasn’t so sure if he still wanted to know what the object was. Hiyori had a terribly large history of buying atrocious sex toys that, quite frankly, should only be sold along with a free wheelchair for the aftermath. “Use what.”

“Now, now, don’t make that face.” Hiyori had the audacity to pout. Shin had a small suspicion that his nausea hadn’t gotten worse because of the illness, just… something else. “It’s not the usual stuff.”

Shin raised a conflicted eyebrow.

A few moments of appreciating the other’s visible cold sweat later, Hiyori gleefully reached for the object in his white coat’s pocket.

At the sight of it, Shin went from slightly drowsy to extremely awake.

“Is that…?” He was a hundred percent sure that his eyes wouldn’t deceive him on this occasion, but making pointless questions bought him enough time to think. “What are you going to do with that?”

That being a surgical scalpel.

“Oh, dear,” Hiyori’s eyes glinted at the sight of the medical instrument, almost as if it were his most prized possession — which couldn’t be the case, since such position had already been occupied by vacant, greenish blue eyes that saw him as their savior and captor. “I wonder.”

Shin was terribly accustomed to his fiancé’s questionable facets and whims, at this point. Therefore, this could only mean one thing: he was fucked, in likely more ways than usual.

He eyed the scalpel with palpable distaste, nearly an instinct; the gradual decrease of other sentiments should be concerning, perhaps, but he had a vague inkling that living with Hiyori would make any individual develop their oddities. He could feel confusion, a little. Curiosity, eagerness. Desire to kick a very specific person.

“Don’t wonder.” He sighed and coughed lightly as a result, feeling cold, cold, cold. “Just do it.”

The words earned him an intrigued hum.

“Are you sure?” Hiyori’s grin used to border on disturbing — or a bit disquieting, at least, akin to that of an eerie but beautiful antique doll — and it vastly differed from its current effect, at least to Shin. In his eyes resided sunlight, as of late. “Ah, why am I asking…”

Why, indeed.

Shin was ready to urge him to get it over with, eyebrows furrowed and mouth ajar, to simply act on what he wished to do — take what you want, do it.

His eyes were fixed on the blade.

Hiyori wordlessly twirled it between his fingers, entranced by such an attitude.

“You know,” he exhaled, expression unreadable, “you usually play hard to get.”

No, I don’t, Shin’s brain supplies, but his mouth answers with a simple “I know.”

“It’s kind of turning me on.”

Hiyori was pouting. Seriously. “Freak. Stop that.”

“No, I mean it. I feel like a wooden doll right now.”

Shin would not ask him to elaborate. Hiyori probably wouldn’t have a proper response, either. “I know.”

“Do you, now?”

Shin felt like he could pop a vessel at any moment.

He acted on the most rational thought his mind managed to conjure, then — Hiyori’s dilated pupils would be passably endearing if the madman weren’t holding a scalpel and sporting a kilometric boner, but Shin had to content himself with little, he supposed —, and a poorly contained gasp had escaped the other man right before their lips collided, courtesy of Shin’s urgency.

Hiyori was a curious individual. The permanent poker face that casually stretched into a knowing grin didn’t exactly indicate interest, as if the world around him were nothing more than a boring little board game. He was never invested, never hungry.

Why did he kiss Shin like a starved man, then?

A very peculiar individual. Shin did recognize that he had his peculiarities, himself. He moaned into the kiss after feeling a distinct, ice cold sensation in one of his thighs — and there it was. A muffled gasp, an apathetic smile against his reddening lips.

The metal should still feel cold in his flesh. It didn’t. Shin shivered as the world spun and the mattress felt hot, burning like hell itself. He clinged onto the perpetrator, embracing that warmth. “Breathe, darling.”

It was not enough.

He wanted to verbalize it. He wanted to adjust his position, too. The tears streaming down his face didn’t offer much help, though.

“Pfft, don’t cry. Always such an ugly crier, hm?” A strangely soft, infatuated expression graced Hiyori’s face — a rare look on him, but Shin couldn’t be fooled by his words just yet. “You can take it.”

An ugly crier, the liar said. The brick between the same liar’s legs would strongly like to disagree.

Shin could only groan in response, flinching as if he— oh, well, he had just gotten stabbed, sort of. Plus, he could predict the future in a sense. Hiyori’s sultry voice whispering in his ear, you’re shaking like a leaf, your tears are mixing with the blood— fuck, he felt too hot. The blade returned to his blurry field of vision, and Hiyori’s hands made an appearance. He shivered and wondered if this was it, his last day on Earth. It was a nice sensation.

“Shin, are you listening?” Don’t pass out on me, he left unsaid. Another deep cut, another sharp cry. “You were made for this.”

Shin hesitantly looked down. Panic immediately filled his being, and he gulped, lightheaded— but Hiyori’s free hand promptly cupped his face and pulled him into another bruising kiss. Ah, Shin wouldn’t die, it seemed.

“Stay with me.” Hiyori certainly knew the effect his low voice had on him.

Shin briefly wondered if a death by blood loss would really be so painful — he was too aroused to care about his own demise, shamefully — and the Shin of some other reality could find out the response in his stead, perhaps. Hiyori broke the kiss only to bury his face on his fiancé’s shoulder, biting hard.

In turn, Shin nearly lost his voice, holding him tightly, closer, scratching and shaking and tasting blood in his own lips. The nails on Hiyori’s back must've accidentally evoked some… unknown effect on him, too, that was Shin’s hunch. The next thing he knew was that he was being bent in half.

The fresh wounds made contact with his own skin, staining his stomach with vivid scarlet. Shin let out a pained gasp at the friction, aching to kick his fiancé, call him all sorts of names, he was tired and sore and horny— and, as if sensing his distaste, Hiyori rushed to worsen it.

“Shin.” He murmured against his neck, kissing it. The fierce grip on his thighs was the only indication that he wasn’t as calm as his demeanor indicated. “Shiiin.”

Shin lazily directed his eyes towards Hiyori’s.

“Shin.” Hiyori put his pointer finger under his fiancé’s chin. With a slight tilt, Shin was facing him. How horribly easy. “Shin, I say your name a lot.”

It wasn’t a clever observation. Shin wasn’t in the best position to make a snarky remark, though.

“Shin.” Hiyori was closer to his mouth, now— so close that he could feel his minty breath. “I want you to say my name.”

Shin squeezed his eyes shut.

Hiyori’s smile was nearly tangible, visible behind closed eyelids. “I can give you what you want, my love. Just say it.”

It was so very tempting— but Shin knew better than to feed a beast. “…Hiyori.”

It became intangible, then.

“Hmm.”

All of a sudden, Shin had a terrible suspicion. He prayed that he wasn’t correct — ignoring the cold sweat on his forehead, he inhaled and opened his eyes in a hurry. No head in sight.

He looked down, disbelieving.

His arms didn’t push Hiyori away fast enough. “Fuck!”

“That’s not my name.” Never in his entire life had he seen such a bright expression on Hiyori’s face— no, he looked absolutely delighted, with lips full of blood that wasn’t his own. “Try again.”

Against Shin’s halfhearted protests, Hiyori kept dragging his tongue all over the bruised skin. Mercifully, perhaps, he only threatened to touch on the deep cuts, opting to taste the shallow ones like a particularly refined meal. He found that holding Shin down was easy enough with a single hand, allowing him to explore any place he wanted with the other.

“Shin,” he called again, breathless and up to no good, “may I?”

Shin did the best he could to slap his hand away. He gritted his teeth at the mere thought of it. “You— you are not fingering my fucking cuts, Sou.”

The way the other man only narrowed his eyes made Shin feel… frustrated, to say the least.

“Aww. That’s too bad.” He inched dangerously closer to— somewhere else entirely and Shin suddenly found it difficult to breathe. “Call my name again and I’ll think about it.”

It was way less stress-inducing to have Hiyori between his legs rather than licking and chewing on them, for sure, but everything could be reversed in a second when it came to him — Shin had to be on his best behavior. God, what had he done to his brain. It had been rewired by mini-Hiyoris, clearly.

It was laughable, in his opinion, but what other option was there? “Sou.”

Hiyori was visibly pleased, yes, of course he would be. “Hmm?”

“…There, I said it.” Shin pressed a palm against his face, burning. “Now, can you just…”

Although he had been the one to kickstart this embarrassing chain of events, having his thighs spread apart by Hiyori — in a near mechanical manner, so abrupt and so not gentle it made his legs tremble with strain — caused Shin to feel conflicted, brain melting in a mixture of satisfaction and disdain. He huffed a mildly annoyed sound, albeit there was nothing truly surprising about this outcome.

Hiyori calmly raised his eyebrows in a way that could only mean, what, already having second thoughts? in the silent Sou Hiyori language Shin had somehow managed to master. The man himself never expressed those words at the moment, nonetheless.

It still left Shin with a bitter feeling.

“G-Go on. I’m not backing off.” Words were spilling from his lips before he could prevent it, nudging Hiyori’s clothed back with his foot. He never failed to surprise him, this unnerving man, roleplaying as a responsible doctor who surely wouldn’t butcher him in his dreams.

“Is that so?”

Whenever his fiancé uttered that sentence, Shin knew that his very defeat had been declared. He had lost their little game. It was over.

Another wave of dizziness overtook his body as Hiyori less than gentlemanly dragged his fingers across Shin’s damned open cuts, gathering the fluid on his digits and looking so utterly giddy about it that the other man was momentarily stunned to silence.

He brought his hand closer to his eye, then, inspecting the substance as he rubbed his middle finger and thumb together. “Hmm.”

Shin wasn’t exactly fond of the obligatory analytical approach of his partner’s foreplay. “What is it.”

Hiyori didn’t seem to notice that Shin had been close to seeing biblical figures for quite a while, now — or he simply didn’t care, which was more likely to be the case.

“Ah, your blood feels more viscous than usual. Is it because you’ve been sweating and panting like a dog?” Self-proclaimed doctor or not, Shin didn’t really doubt the accuracy of Hiyori’s observations. “The same red hue as usual, too. Your low levels of iron never fail to amaze me.”

“Thanks?” Shin’s head was spinning like a rotisserie chicken. He needed him to stop talking about how good his hemoglobins felt, or something. “Can you…”

“Shhh. Patience.” Prying his lips open and promptly shutting him up, Hiyori used his thumb to smear blood on Shin’s bottom lip.

And it tasted— awful, actually, like blood is supposed to taste. Shin wouldn’t know the variability of tastes, though, and he wasn’t too curious or coherent to ask Hiyori about it.

Hiyori went ahead and lowered himself for a kiss, which elicited a breathy moan from Shin. It was too much and too little to make him feel any better, and he grabbed a fistful of his fiancé’s hair to anchor himself — it was a quiet plea, too, for help.

“Sou, Sou.” A hoarse voice that was probably his own called, grasping at the pristine white coat on Hiyori’s shoulders. “I don’t care, whatever you want to do, do it—”

Hiyori disinterestedly shut him off with another bruising kiss, licking into his mouth as if in search of more fresh blood — it made him sick, they were both pent up.

Shin only remembered that one of his legs was still currently being held up when Hiyori suddenly dropped his chin, directing the partially bloody hand to the exposed slit. Shin nearly lost his ability to think, biting the insides of his mouth as he finally got a semblance of relief.

The heedless gesture reminded him of dark nights and unspoken sentiments, fingering himself to the thought of a shadow of his past. It reminded him of searching for anything that held a minimal similitude to his old friend’s eerie appearance, only to finish up with his ashamed face buried in the same red scarf over and over again.

He did all sorts of things— went through all sorts of abhorrent situations, watched those who were dear to him die, all for— for this.

The tips of Hiyori’s reddened fingers slotted between his soaked folds. Shin’s mind quickly blanked.

They glided so easily on the surface, experimentally prodding at his hole like second nature. Shin could only moan and struggle under the fingertips, unsure if his lightheaded state had gotten worse because of the pain on his thighs or the pleasure.

“Don’t close your eyes for too long, doll.”

“Wh… Why?”

He chuckled. “It would be terribly embarrassing to faint at times like this, wouldn’t it?”

Shin didn’t grace him with an intelligible response, but his fiancé knew that he’d understood his words, anyway.

Hiyori didn’t even bother with lubricant, focused on the task at hand in a way that aimed at getting Shin off with only his blood. Shin’s own blood. It was disgusting, and so, so catered to Hiyori’s personal wet dreams that he didn’t have it in himself to complain — or to even say anything, really, being rendered speechless by fingers curling in his pussy, the glistening slit making a mess of the rest of Hiyori’s hand.

He bucked against it tirelessly, in contrast to the deplorable condition of his worn-out body. The cold sweat on his forehead was nothing but a faraway memory, now, too concentrated on grinding against Hiyori’s palm.

“You’re my favorite thing in this world, did you know?” Hiyori’s voice was thick with arousal and low like a whisper. “You were made for my hands.”

Looking up, it was hard not to exhale in surprise, finding Hiyori’s customary lifeless eyes shine with a different form of enthusiasm — he was blissful, even, wordlessly getting off to the mere sight of the quivering man under him —, and Shin would try and do something for him, too, were he not sure that this was more than enough for his degenerate of a partner.

Shin’s tight grip on the other man’s shoulders caused his knuckles to go white, whining at the gradual retreat of Hiyori’s face from his proximity. He was ready to urge him to give him another kiss when an abrupt realization sank in, staring down in excited anticipation.

Hiyori amusedly closed the distance between his mouth and the wet slit, lapping his juices and moaning like he was in heaven, all the while stretching his fiancé open with deft fingers that had come to know every inch of his body, every particularity of the places where he liked to be touched.

When he flattened his tongue on his clit, Shin immediately felt his whole body shudder, pitifully letting go of one of Hiyori’s shoulders to rub his eyes and stop tears from falling. He felt like he’d been deprived of this sensation for so long due to the sickness that it was near impossible not to feel delirious — Sou’s name slipped from his lips multiple times, chanting it like a prayer.

Hiyori knew how to hit all of the right spots, to taste him like his life depended on it; as expected, Shin ended up coming in no time, panting heavily and disregarding the incoming nausea. He threw an arm over his head, covering his eyes from the sight of Hiyori licking his lips — with a shameless and calculating stare, like that of a fox that had just finished hunting its prey down.

“Tired, already? We have so many more procedures to do,” when Shin opened his eyes again, he could only note in horror that the scalpel had been retrieved by Hiyori at some point, “I would love to see your condition by the end of this.”

Shin would, too, because he was pretty sure that his roleplaying fiancé’s words weren’t supposed to be nearly as incoherent and distant as they sounded, and panic soon rose in his chest as Hiyori’s face became blurry. His vision of the ceiling gradually faded in and out, pulsing like a ring of black led lights, and the belated realization that their little sexual activity had inadvertently worsened his state shouldn’t have made him as mad as it did.

Yes, it was all Hiyori’s fault. Like always.

Said individual didn’t seem nearly as annoyed as he was at such an outcome, blinking owlishly for a brief moment before the recognition of Shin’s passed out state came. He couldn’t help but smile — the reason didn’t matter, did it? — and the undeniable fondness of it made him feel quite as sick as his fiancé felt. The involuntary expression appeared after taking a good look at Shin’s unconscious body, sure, but he had grown far too accustomed to this strange warmth in the depths of his chest.

Do the years truly make one soften up, he wondered as he cleaned the other man’s wounds and bandaged them with far more care than he ever would have on himself, or was it you, Shin?

Only quiet, slow breathing came in response to his thoughts. He could count every single one of Shin’s eyelashes, from this angle.

After finishing the count with the same number in mind as always, he did a quick cleanup of the place and decided to continue this roleplay on another occasion — he would have to acquire another identical outfit, since this once had been stained, but it was no big deal.

Sou glanced at the sleeping figure of his fiancé, then at the clock. It was the ideal free time to put some of his hobbies in practice, huh.

He pressed a kiss on Shin’s temple and slowly walked out of the room. To complement such a bright day, he supposed that a quick game of chess or a bit of manslaughter was in order.

this is such a funny concept i’m surprised i didn’t think about it before HSJNDBDJ hiyori being petty about something like that is so silly. maybe one of those random childish quirks every madman’s gotta have at some point. i had initially thought about it as like, a mirroring habit? even though it’s implied he’s older than shin in the fic i think his obsession towards him borders on fascination/admiration (albeit undoubtedly in a Not Normal way), which makes shin some sort of prime example of what he deems a “good” human being. i don’t know if this sounds coherent lol but he sees something interesting in shin —> rushes to acquire the same thing himself, making him occasionally mimic the same mannerisms, dress similar things, and tie his hair in a ponytail just like shin used to do…. this would make shin the original Ponytail Bearer whose place was stolen shamelessly though. which i had not thought of. and adding it to your idea works comically well in the sense that hiyori might be crazy (or silly) enough to copy someone and feel like the characteristic belongs to him and only him afterwards….. a thief if you will

thank you for this beautiful whiplash induced comment it’s everything to me. eheh i did reference the first fic quite a bit because i love when authors mirror the past….. and this request gave me the perfect opportunity….. it’s fun to see how you grasped the bittersweetness of it even amongst the debilitating fluff (which was supposed to be More unsettling, but i didn’t want to overdo it for a supposedly silly short fic. yk. shin’s mental state is the absolute worst and the best he’s ever had and hiyori’s having the time of his life) but yeah i feel like when i post the prequel of the flashback aka Bedroom Activities it’ll be more visibly concerning… do forgive me in the future

i will gladly accept the cake but i might fight for their custody.. they haven’t (read: shin hasn’t) suffered enough just yet. don’t you just love it when everything is okay but in a fucked up incorrigible manner.. sighs dreamily

(a cute concept for a disastrous pairing… i did the best i could. happy pride month)

tags: office workers au, first kiss, unsettling fluff??? (it’s soushin)

More often than not, Shin didn’t know what to expect from Hiyori’s behavior in the morning.

He always greeted Shin in his own peculiar way, varying in tone and demeanor.

‘Good morning, Shin! It’s cold today, isn’t it?’

‘Why, hello there. You look sleepier than usual. Fell off the bed?’

‘Salutations, my friend. Would you like to accompany this humble gentleman to the convenience store?’

‘Oh, hey. I dreamed that I stabbed you in the heart. Your meat tasted like cotton candy, y’know?’

It was so unpredictable that it became predictable, somehow.

Therefore, when Shin arrived at work, he didn’t so much as flinch when someone popped confettis in the office. At 7:10 AM, he noted.

“Shin! Do you know what day it is?” An office worker should not be using a rainbow suit, Shin thought. Hiyori’s fashion sense was similar to that of an antiquated unicorn, perhaps with depression.

Frankly, Shin did not quite remember what year it was. He was still half-asleep. “No.”

He didn’t ask why — his friend would clearly explain it, anyway. The ominous grin said it all.

“It’s pride month! You know what that means?”

“You want us to… nevermind.” Shin sighed. “And you asked about the day, not the month.”

“It means the whole office is celebrating it!” He ignored the other man, just as expected. “We’ve decided to make a fun little attraction, too, to spice things up.”

Shin followed Hiyori’s finger, pointed to a direction he hadn’t paid particular attention to before.

Two tired-looking women were setting a small booth up, grumbling and struggling to get some wooden planks in place.

“Uh, they look like they could use some help.” Shin observed, looking at his friend. He didn’t dream of having enough strength to be useful, but the other man would certainly be able to provide assistance.

“So they do.” Hiyori was inspecting his nails. “Anyway, I didn’t just tell you about it for no reason.”

“…What do you mean?”

“You’ll be part of the main attraction, of course.” He finally looked up, grinning like a fox. “Everyone agreed with the idea.”

I blackmailed everyone into it, he likely left unsaid.

“And whose idea was it?”

“Mine, of course.” Hiyori didn’t even hesitate. Bitch.

Shin let out a groan that was buried somewhere deep in his soul, inside the metaphorical, medium-sized container called ‘sounds Hiyori curiously enjoys a lot’.

“What do I have to do?” He asked, resigned. He wasn’t anywhere near immune to the effects of an office life — the only seemingly unaffected person was his friend, naturally.

The other man pointed in the same direction as before, as if signalizing very polite words such as, just read, are you stupid?

One of his coworkers, the red-haired one, was searching through a few fancy utensils. She held a paintbrush up, then, writing something — in bold, beautifully terrifying letters — and Shin could only stare.

Kissing Booth.

He pointed to himself, then to the booth, then to Hiyori, then to the sky. Sure, he was an atheist, but he could use some divine guidance to get away from his friend. “Do you… really expect me to…”

“Why not?” Hiyori blinked slowly at the display, like a pleased feline. “It’s for pride month.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Only men will be allowed to kiss you.” His friend shrugged, as if it were utterly obvious.

“…Huh? What about women?”

“You want both? Scandalous.”

“Dude—”

“You won’t even need to work today, isn’t that great?” Hiyori promptly interrupted his words, as if shame were a foreign emotion to him. “You just have to sit there, look pretty, and kiss some hard-working gentlemen.”

He eyed the booth’s surroundings again, where a man was already suspiciously stationed.

“Would you call even that balding freak who hits on women three times younger than him a gentleman?”

“Would you?”

“Fuck no.”

“Then you have my response.”

Shin rolled his eyes. “You should work on giving simpler answers to people.”

“Your tiny brain can’t keep up, hm? No matter!” he gave Shin a closed eyed smile, grabbing his arm. The action was so stiff that Shin wondered if his limbs were okay, for a brief second. “It seems like the booth is ready for use.”

The younger man huffed, merely letting himself be dragged by the other — just like in various different occasions, no longer showing uneasiness. “What, you want to be the first one to get a kiss?”

They were in front of the wooden structure, now. “Obviously.”

Shin choked on his own spit.

He coughed multiple times into his fist, earning a few looks that varied from concerned to irritated. “You’re so… silly, Hiyori.”

In turn, the other man blinked owlishly. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“You look like you want to murder someone in my family,” Shin frowned, uncertain, “I can’t tell.”

“I already did.”

“What?”

Hiyori’s smile grew. “Get behind the booth, Shin.”

Whenever his friend failed to elaborate, he knew it was a lost case. He couldn’t be blamed for trying, though, as he walked and positioned himself on the other side of the booth. “Hiyori.”

“Yes?”

He clicked his tongue. “You’re always trying to scare me. Is it funny?”

“Your reactions, yes, very much.”

Shin digested the information for a moment, trying and failing to feel like he wasn’t already conscious of it. “You’re kind of sick in the head.”

“Birds of a feather flock together.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“That’s a pity.” Hiyori smiled his little patronizing smile, tilting his head to the side. The knowledge that not even a rainbow suit managed to spoil his unfairly good looks was annoying, to put it simply — along with a feeling Shin couldn’t quite name. “So, where is my kiss?”

The younger man momentarily wondered if he had hallucinated such words, but Hiyori had an expectant expression on his face.

Shin suddenly felt like throwing up. “Do I really have to?”

“Shin. It’s pride month.”

“So what? You’re not even—”

His friend's face was suddenly closer to his.

Shin quickly came to the world-shattering realization that yes, he was, even.

Hiyori’s lips didn’t meet the place he expected them to, but rather… rested on his forehead. It originated a warm, unknown feeling within him — but not unwelcome, which made Shin want to vomit ten times more.

It was an action far too soft, far too unlike the Sou Hiyori he was accustomed to. A shiver ran down his spine; he was slightly perturbed, but ultimately curious.

“What was that?” He asked, eyeing the other man as soon as his face was a safe distance from him.

“A kiss,” Hiyori calmly stated, displaying a rare rosy tone on his cheeks, “since you wouldn’t do it yourself.”

“…You kissed my forehead.”

“Were you waiting for something else?” His face almost immediately went back to its normal state, which seemed to be a teasing, uncanny expression.

Shin didn’t respond, too busy looking at the walls.

“Shin.” the way Hiyori called his name was undeniably fond, bordering on something much more sinister. “Oh, Shin, you’re so…”

Shin found that he couldn’t bring himself to look at his friend anymore.

“You kissed me like a high schooler would.” He blurted out.

Hiyori slowly raised an eyebrow — he likely wasn’t expecting the snarky remark, not after that unusual affectionate gesture — and instantly let out a faux offended gasp.

“As if you would do any better.”

Shin’s eyes snapped shut in exasperation.

He wordlessly grabbed a mildly confused Hiyori’s cheeks, then, taking a moment to appreciate the raw emotion of triumph.

When Shin closed the distance between their lips, he tried his best to ignore the wide eyes that were most likely in front of his — he wouldn’t know, he wasn’t insane enough to kiss with his eyes open — and opted to focus on the hand that lifted his chin, instead.

The sensation was disgustingly good. That was a mortifying outcome, which Shin had definitely not signed up for, even though he had been the one to start this mess.

Kissing someone of the same gender could still be baffling during the pride month, it seemed — Shin disregarded the fact that they were in the middle of an office —, so he stepped back after feeling more than a few pairs of eyes on his skin.

Hiyori looked like he was a machine ready to fall apart at any given time.

Shin felt oddly relieved. “So?”

“…Oh, well.” Hiyori was visibly trying to compose himself — which he managed to do, after a few seconds —, although Shin would never forget his unconcealed, flustered surprise. “Now this booth becomes useless. Do you want to destroy it with me?”

Shin didn’t know why he had expected a proper response. With a sigh too fond for his liking, he murmured, “Sure.”

(why of course… hands you the reikyaoi)

tags: canon universe, fluff, literal sleeping together, cuddling, (mutual) pining but that’s a secret

Rei told Kaoru that he wanted to teach him something — which naturally meant that nothing good would come out of it.

Okay, perhaps he was being too harsh. While their schedules had been coincidentally mismatching each other, he had no particular wish to be away from Rei at all.

…His friend’s behavior had been weird, though.

Vanishing from the studios as soon as they were done with the recordings, exiting rooms whenever they were the only ones inside, leaving practice a few minutes earlier than he usually would because ‘he had to take care of something’ and that something was avoiding Kaoru like the plague.

So, when he suddenly approached the younger man first and casually stated ‘I should teach you something useful after the meeting, Kaoru had been— would it be too humiliating if he said relieved?

When he inquired what, exactly, Rei simply smiled and declared that it would be ‘something good for his health’. Kaoru had no problems with that, only questions, so he just nodded in mild confusion as the other man walked away.

Just as he said, they found each other a few minutes after the meeting. Rei looked sleepy, which could be easily justified by the time.

“Shouldn’t you sleep a little bit before our interview?” Kaoru questioned, looking at the schedule on his phone. “Koga-kun and Adonis-kun should meet us to get ready in… 3 hours. That’s pretty much our only free time of the day.”

Rei hummed, but it was a hum that indicated that he was already aware of all the information. “What I wanted to teach you is actually related to that.”

Kaoru blinked in confusion.

“Let’s go to my dorm room, shall we?”

“Your—”

Despite the question, Kaoru could tell that Rei wasn’t truly waiting for an answer. He pointedly ignored the way his friend grabbed his wrist to drag him around.

They left the building and had a short walk in order to reach the dorms. In the afternoon, most idols were busy with work, so it wasn’t surprising to enter Rei’s room and see that it was empty.

“You still have that up?” Kaoru snorted, pointing at the divider between two beds. His wrist still burned with a warm sensation.

“It is necessary, sometimes.” Rei didn’t elaborate any further. He simply walked to his bed, in all of its emo glory, as Aira had once called it. Kaoru had no choice but to follow.

Rei tapped the mattress.

“Lay down.”

There was a minute or two of silence. Kaoru’s brain was too busy short-circuiting to be able to formulate a proper response, action, anything, fated to shutdown seconds after hearing such unexpected words.

“Rei-kun.” He breathed. “Are they recording this? Is it for a fanservice prank program or something?”

Rei was momentarily stunned, and a rare blush adorned his cheeks. “Oh, no, don’t misunderstand. I was just— I had no ill intentions— this is not…”

Kaoru waited.

“I am not that shameless,” Rei sighed, managing to give him a small smile, “I merely wished to introduce you to a technique that will save your life.”

Now that made him curious. “What is it?”

Silently, Rei tightened his hold on the younger man’s wrist and pulled him closer. Kaoru let himself fall onto the bed, albeit not free from embarrassment.

He listened to Rei’s quiet instructions, lying down and moving to the side. He tried his best to regulate his breathing as he felt the weight of another body on the mattress, joining him.

If he tried this two years ago, he distantly thought, I would’ve probably sent him to a hospital.

“Now you close your eyes.” Rei’s voice suddenly declared. It was a pleasant sound.

“What is this for…?” Kaoru did as he was told, trusting the unknown reasons behind such questionable behavior. He was trying not to yawn. “You’re making me sleepy, too.”

“That is the point of this.” Rei calmly stated, oblivious to Kaoru’s widening eyes. “I am teaching you how to take decent power naps between obligations, after all.”

Nevermind, he would go to the hospital very soon. “Wh— Do you think I don’t know what power naps are?”

“Of course you do,” Rei muttered, like he was trying to convince himself of something, “I just think you should be able to rest properly… like this.”

Kaoru’s brain stopped functioning for the second time of the day, then. Rei’s arms encircling his waist were definitely not the cause.

The sudden feeling of hair tickling his nape and shoulder didn’t help, either. “Close your eyes. You have been too tired, rest.”

We have been too tired, he left unsaid, although Kaoru still understood it. He let out a small sigh.

“I’m not mad.” He still found himself whispering, because he knew what Rei was thinking. How could he not, when they were almost never apart these days? “So… sleep well.”

He felt a smile against his shoulder. A fang poked him lightly. “You too, Kaoru-kun.”

Kaoru closed his eyes once again, deep in thought.

He should say it.

“Also, quit avoiding me, okay? If you have to confess your undying feelings to me or something, just do it. It’ll make us sleep better.”

Rei nearly choked behind him.

Then, seconds later, Kaoru was snoring.

(this concept is so cute! i don’t know if i wrote it as you pictured it, but it was fun nonetheless)

tags: bunny shin/hare hiyori, first meetings (??), humor, strangers to nuisances, stalking mention, implied acts of service

Shin had always craved stability.

Stability could refer to many things. He felt stable whenever there was some money saved in his pouch at the end of the month, at least enough to go to the nearby village’s fair and buy himself something nice. The feeling manifested itself when he was in a particularly… decent state of mind, too, distanced from unforeseen circumstances and anything that triggered a strong reaction out of him. Yep. He was doing great.

The knocks on his window would politely like to disagree. That had been an unforeseen circumstance, in the past, although it quickly became routine.

Knock was such a cute way to describe it, in fact. They were practically throwing bricks at the glass, but the bricks were actually just soft paws with overwhelming strength derived from unknown sources — he caught a glimpse of them only once or twice, brief occurrences that gave him more questions than answers.

Whoever this maniacal culprit was, they didn’t seem to catch the hint, not even after two months. They had stuck around for longer than most of Shin’s acquaintances, which was sad and extremely miserable, his mother often said, but he was doing just fine. Clearly.

They were seemingly quite courageous as well, usually visiting him when the only visible things in the night were the stars; not to mention that Shin lived in the middle of nowhere, secluded from the outside world in a quiet forest.

It always went like this: he ignored them for a while and kept doing whatever his hands were busy with, then the banging would get increasingly louder and Shin would unconsciously wish to bang his head against the wall, too. Herd effect, maybe — if the herd was solely made of a single motherfucker who had nothing better to do with their free time —, and, well. He would stop everything he was doing, walk to the front window, and shove the curtains away.

Naturally, the mysterious nuisance would vanish into thin air.
(Yes, they only visited Shin when the curtains were closed; a true specialist in making people paranoid, if you will.)

Shin had a deep love for routines. Routines grounded him in reality and made him feel like a functioning… bunny being, as constricting as they could sometimes be. When such a beautiful concept was introduced to him in ways that he did not consent to, though, things could get pretty weird.

“Shiiin. Are you awake?”

Oh, yeah, they talked. For a motive Shin had yet to know, this stranger — Midori, the name he gave them after spotting the green tone of their paw once — just suddenly started talking one day. Abruptly. And they didn’t stop, either.

The rabbit only groaned in response, but it had been enough to make the stranger grin. Precisely, he could feel when they were amused. “Stop ignoring me, you rude dog.”

Shin hummed in a mildly sardonic manner, which was an habit he had unfortunately picked up from Midori. “The last time I checked, I was a bunny.”

“You should behave more like one, then!” The stranger’s voice was so strong, even from the other side of the window — it made Shin feel oddly observed. “Hmm, in fact, you remind me of a cat sometimes.”

The rabbit scoffed. “That makes no sense…”

The other individual let out a fake gasp. “Am I the only one who receives this heartless treatment, then?”

“You’re the only one who stalks me, yeah.”

“And other people totally missing out.”

It was so absurd that Shin couldn’t help but laugh, caught off guard.

“See! I made you laugh.” He could picture a Midori-shadow proudly crossing their arms. “That’s more like a bunny.”

“Oh my carrots, stop talking.” Shin huffed, crossing his arms himself this time. “Come to think of it, what species are you?”

Silence.

“You—”

“You told me to stop talking.”

“You avoided the question just like this last time!”

“Oh,” The stranger (?) giggled, “so you’re aware that I chose to ignore you, yet you still ask the same question.”

“Well, duh. I am curious about the mysterious entity who disturbs me every night.”

“You flatter me.” Shin couldn’t even tell if they were joking. “Why does it matter, though?”

“It doesn’t. You’d still be the same nuisance.” He deadpanned.

“Shin! How dare you say that, when I thoughtfully brought you homemade soup today?”

The rabbit immediately felt his brain pause. “What? Where.”

The other individual snorted. “Just open the door and I’ll give it to you.”

“…That’s the most blatant start of a murder attempt I’ve ever heard.”

“Really? Aw,” they sighed dramatically, “I guess you’ll never get to see my dashing appearance, then.”

“Wait, are you…”

Shin didn’t wait for an answer — no, he hadn’t even been able to formulate a proper question — he didn’t even think. As soon as the uncertain words left his lips, he turned the doorknob with much more certainty, instantly searching for someone’s figure in the dark.

When he did lay his eyes on them, he feared his legs would give out.

Shin didn’t know why he had more expectations of seeing nothing at all — perhaps he had a feeling that Midori wouldn’t simply show themselves, even though he should’ve seen it coming. The only thing Midori preferred over being secretive was being unpredictable.

“Hi there!” His… new acquaintance? waved his hand, carrying a small basket in the other one. “Ah, your reaction was priceless. Truly worth the wait.”

Shin didn’t know what to say — what to think. His two available brain cells were currently brawling with each other, producing a continuous white noise inside his head.

“Uh…” He helplessly glanced at the ground, feeling his ears flop down. “Give me the soup.”

Short, simple, direct. Way to go!

“What am I, a carrier pigeon?” Midori tutted, raising his free arm to point at his head. His ears. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m actually a hare!”

Shin’s eyes immediately went up.

He had been so caught up in the fact Midori had revealed himself that he didn’t stop to look at the glaringly obvious features in front of him.

“Ahahah, has your curiosity been satiated?” He kept pointing at the ears, wiggling his fingers stupidly. “You may touch them. I don’t usually bite.”

Usually? “…No, thanks.”

“Aw. I want to touch yours, though.”

The hare stepped closer. Shin quickly took a step back.

“No way. Just give me the soup and go back to the woods, or something.” The rabbit insisted.

“You are so utterly cruel, dear Shin. Oh, well,” he handed him the basket with no further complaints, “I suppose it can’t be helped. I’ll be back soon!”

It didn’t feel like farewell — it felt more like a warning.

Shin waved at his new friend, nonetheless, as he turned away and really started walking… into the woods, instead of following the trail like a normal individual.

If he got himself killed — albeit he had a small hunch that Midori would be the one doing all the killing —, Shin didn’t know whether he’d feel sad or not. Perhaps it was too soon to tell; they needed to get to know each other better beforehand.

The rabbit looked down, then. Carefully opened the basket. Took the lid off the container. Smelled it.

Oh.

Carrot soup.

If that bastard ever died, he would miss him a lot.

(thank you and of course. this is a short sequel/extra to my wedding planner fic)

tags: established relationship, humor, light nsfw + wound mentions, Sou Hiyori Speaking Spanish

Winter mornings were the worst.

Shin could barely move his limbs under the covers, perpetually sandwiched between the soft mattress and an amount of blankets that would likely suffocate a normal person. He didn’t exactly hate the feeling, after all, they kept him warm despite limiting his freedom. Huh. That sounded quite similar to a person he knew.

His decidedly mentally challenging companion was sipping on a small cup of ice-cold soda, at 8 AM, shirtless, because of course he was.

“11 degrees Celsius,” the younger man pronounced, elongating his words for no reason in particular. He had just opened the weather app — in order to prove a point, albeit sleepily —, partly regretting his choice because of the cold feeling of the screen under his fingertips. “Just so you know.”

(‘Your skin is so sensitive,’ his beloathed partner once said. Hiyori was definitely not wearing a stupid costume— no, Shin refused to relive such a horrifying experience in his head. ‘Good thing you called me to take care of it! I’ll do a proper examination of your condition right away…’

Needless to say, proper examination meant dressing as a doctor and carving bloody hearts on his thighs until he passed out. He had a slight feeling that Hiyori shouldn’t be allowed to get a diploma. At all.

But that was a story for another day. Their bedroom activities had gotten much safer afterwards — well, if just not letting him faint meant anything. If he convinced himself that it did, then it did.)

“And?” Hiyori hummed in response, turning his attention away from the news on the TV. He was truly getting old. “Do you want me to go out and build a snowman for you?”

The words you should just kill yourself and come back as a snowman next were right on the tip of Shin’s tongue, but he carefully opted not to let them out. Knowing that petty freak, he would actually do it.

“You should just… wear something. I don’t know.” He frowned, looking away from the display. Hiyori’s naked torso alone made him shiver.

That sight was such a wild divergence from years ago, when he thought about it. He used to see his friend’s nape once in a full moon — other parts of his body, then, were locked behind layers and layers of clothes that not even superior beings would dare uncover.

And now, this shameless creature simply walked around in dress pants and exposed tits like he owned the place.
(Which he technically did, but his money was by no means hard earned.)

“Hmm… no, gracias.” Hiyori inspected his nails with a bored look.

Shin gave him a tired look. “Stop that.”

Hiyori blinked. “Stop what?”

“The random Spanish.”

“Tú no me mandas.” The older man declared with a smile.

Shin groaned. “Fucker. What does that mean?”

“It means of course, I listen to everything my beautiful fiancé says!”

Shin raised a suspicious eyebrow. Hiyori just shrugged, the imbecile.

After a minute or two of peaceful silence, he struck again, seemingly out of nowhere. “Y’know, we should move to Mexico City.”

The younger man promptly dropped his phone on his face, losing the combo in whatever trashy rhythm game he had recently installed. “What?”

“The warm weather would be good for you. And…” He chose that moment to let out a dramatic, dreamy sigh, as if someone had just mentioned manslaughter. “I miss being able to speak Spanish freely, away from those who judge me.”

Shin stared at him. “We’re literally engaged, Hiyori.”

He didn’t know why that sentence in particular gave him flashbacks.

“Yes, yes. It’s not like you’re getting rid of me anytime soon.” The other man grinned at him, placing his soda down and walking to the bed. “With or without the Spanish.”

“What if I marry a Mexican guy instead?”

Hiyori answered without missing a beat. “Then I’ll eat his flesh with jalapeños.”

“Wow,” Shin huffed, unimpressed (but oddly amused), “Sexy.”

The next time he used their shared computer, an ungodly number of tickets to Mexico tabs greeted his eyes. He wouldn’t try to stop Hiyori’s whims, anyway.

(ty for this request i miss reikao)

tags: fluff, established relationship, humor, slight misunderstanding, light sexual joke

As the end of the day approached, Kaoru’s patience was close to reaching its limit — and that was a difficult thing to achieve.

“I said no, Rei.” He pointed an accusatory finger at his band mate, who simply frowned harder in response. “Don’t— d-don’t make that face, geez. Do you even understand what you’re asking me to do?”

In all honesty, Kaoru was being dramatic. He was aware of it.

…However, if he didn’t behave in such a way, there would be consequences. Consequences that meant the death of his future self’s reputation.

“The shirt is not that bad.” Rei stated, which was promptly ignored.

“Dude. Most of our fans know a bit of English, you know? I can’t just— wear that with you!” Kaoru bit his lower lip, clearly refusing to change his mind. The sight was so endearing that the taller man nearly forgot about his words.

Rei tried not to let out a pathetic sigh at the dude that left his boyfriend’s beautiful lips, then, but failed miserably at the task. “It is just a shirt, Kaoru.”

“A shirt can be awful for lots of reasons.” Kaoru placed his hands on his hips, trying his best to explain what should be obvious to the leader of their unit. “For example, it could have cuss words, and people… usually don’t like that.”

“Is that so?” Rei raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “What about UNDEAD’s reputation? It wouldn’t be too shocking for us to use such words.”

Kaoru groaned like he had been stabbed in the gut. He could not give in to his boyfriend’s wishes — not in this situation.

“It’s just, the problem with the shirts isn’t the cussing— it’s the context, and— y-you know what I’m talking about. People will talk about it.”

Rei did not, in fact, know what he was talking about.

“Do they not always talk about our outfits? We are idols.” This man had the audacity to shrug.

“Rei. My love.” Kaoru inhaled and exhaled. “Have you been doing your Duolingo lessons? You don’t actually know what the shirts say, do you?”

“I am quite adept at the English language, thank you very much.” As if to prove a point, he started to hum a random song.

Kaoru immediately frowned. “That’s an unreleased Ariana Grande song.”

“And?”

“Okay, I trust you. But, just out of curiosity…” He scratched his nape, pondering. “You— uh, what do you think the shirts mean? Just so we’re on the same page here.”

Rei quickly stood up from his seat, proudly grabbing the pieces of clothing that would make Kaoru’s eyes twitch in any other context. He calmly unfolded them and looked at the English words, mumbling the translation to himself.

“So? What do they mean?” Kaoru questioned once again, amused.

“Well, you would wear this one, and I would wear the other. So…” Rei smiled to himself, acting like he had acquired the most exquisite clothes — or boyfriend, who knows — that one could ever find. “It means that you are stupid, and mine means that I am stupider than you.”

The shirts, staring mockingly into Kaoru’s soul, read:
I’M STUPID (shirt number 1);
I’M FUCKING STUPID (shirt number 2, with a big, menacing red arrow pointing to the other shirt).

“Yeah.” He breathed, trying his best not to smile. He couldn’t give Rei the satisfaction just yet. “You’re way stupider than me.”

Rei whined at the comment, but he was used to it. He was even more used to the kisses that came afterwards, as an unspoken act of apology.

“We can wear the shirts at home… if you insist…” Kaoru whispered against his shoulder, so low that he had almost missed it.

He instantly lit up, then, like he had been programmed to do so. The Kaoru Effect, their other unit mates called it. “I think I am in love with you.”

Kaoru huffed, cheeks warm. “Don’t tell me.”

(i love this prompt!! it’s kinda hard to make him out-creep hiyori since. well. hiyori is hiyori. but i did my best)

tags: roommates, friends to lovers (??), obsession, miscommunication, attachment issues, ISSUES IN GENERAL, kidnapping? but not exactly?

By the time Shin’s eyes landed on Hiyori’s hands, busy packing his clothes, a bitter taste invaded the back of his throat.

“Are you leaving me?” Shin’s mouth moved to speak before he could even question his own thought process. He wasn’t thinking, not properly. “Again?”

In turn, his friend — slash first love, slash roommate, slash the worst person he knew — blinked owlishly at him, like he had just grown a second head in front of his very eyes. “Hmm? What’s up with you?”

“I asked,” He breathed, afraid of letting the words out and of the possible outcome. “if you’re going to leave me, Hiyori.”

The other man hummed. He didn’t utter a single proper response, though; the low, noncommittal sound was the only sign of acknowledgment that he had decided to show.

It felt— wrong, it felt like punishment. It felt like staring at the ceiling for endless, pointless, completely wasted hours of school nights, and he was suddenly fourteen again, experiencing grief that wasn’t truly grief for the very first time, and he wished that it had been grief, so he wouldn’t have to face the inevitable consequences of giving away pieces of his soul, his body, his everything— so he could breathe again.

“Wow.” A voice snapped him back to reality. This one, in particular, always did. “Is this how you feel when I stare at you? How fun.”

He was self aware, then, the fucker. Shin let out a shaky sigh, massaging his temple. He ignored the numbing cold that permeated his skin. “Answer me.”

Hiyori looked away. Maybe it wasn’t his intention, not particularly.

It still felt weird.

“We’re no longer kids, Shin. I’m just going on a small business trip, not vacation!” The older man’s smile stretched until his eyes were shaped like crescent moons. He went back to packing seemingly random clothes — some of them looked like they belonged to designer brands, while the rest was likely stolen from a dead clown’s closet.

“When will you be back?”

Hiyori merely kept grinning, promptly ignoring the question. It was so very nice to see the frustration overflowing in Shin’s eyes, after all. “And I would totally take you to a vacation trip, maybe fold you up and put you in my larger bag— no, perhaps on the smaller side—”

“Shut up, oh my God, shut up.” Shin groaned, feeling nauseous. If God existed, why hadn’t he taken that green thing away from him as soon as they met? “Just answer me!”

His friend’s actions paused at that. He slowly let go of a jacket he had been folding, turning around to stare at Shin.

Oh, Shin thought. I know this kind of stare.

“Are you… really worried that I’ll leave you?” Hiyori questioned, employing an entirely serious tone — as if Shin was being absurd, nonsensical. How incredibly ironic, judging by his past actions —, although the nearly imperceptible quirk of his lips didn’t escape the younger man’s eyes.

“Seriously? That’s a bit rich coming from you.” Shin scoffed, now gazing at the ground. He wondered if he could spontaneously merge with it if he tried hard enough.

“I will be back in a week, pinky promise!” Hiyori dramatically waved his finger as if to prove a point. “You’re being so overly serious about this, my—”

“A week?” Shin asked, paling; the dizziness had only gotten worse. “That long?”

Hiyori adjusted his posture as he tilted his head to the side, looking at the younger man quizzically. It was strangely amusing to see Shin like this, however, he knew when things bordered on risky territory. “Is there a problem?”

He was expecting his friend to protest, after seemingly being so against the idea — it was endearing, in truth, to see that he had become a strictly necessary component of Shin’s life once again. His chest fluttered at the thought of representing what the other man needed to function, to exist, to breathe.

Therefore, he truly didn’t see it coming when Shin turned around and left the room. Against all the fucking odds.

He immediately followed after him, akin to a kicked dog. “Hey! Where are you going? That was so impolite.”

“You’re not leaving,” was the hushed answer he received from his friend, so obviously involuntary that he had barely managed to hear it. Shin kept walking, nearly running, now, out of breath, “you’re not.”

Hiyori stopped in his tracks when his eyes landed on his friend’s hands. Shin had reached the door and looked behind his shoulder before fiddling with the locks.

“What are you doooing?” If Sou Hiyori of all people didn’t have a great feeling about this, the situation certainly wasn’t ideal.

Shin didn’t respond. After a few seconds, he let go of the keys, stuffing his hands somewhere near his pockets and away from Hiyori’s eyes.

“Shin. What are you doing?” He was still smiling his usual smile, albeit slightly strained. “Wasn’t the door already locked?”

“I added a few extra locks. Recently.” Shin gulped, looking away. Hiyori didn’t know what he was thinking, exactly, for once.

He raised an eyebrow at the display of nervousness. It wasn’t rare, per se, but the current situation didn’t truly require anxiety, at least. “For what?”

“…Extra safety.” It sounded more like a question than an affirmation. How cute.

But cute was not a word suited for this, not when Hiyori didn’t have complete control of whatever Shin had in his little brain. “Give me the keys, then.”

The answer came in less than a second. “No.”

He blinked. “Pardon?”

“I said no.” Shin huffed, walking away from the door. He didn’t spare much of a glance at Hiyori, who was staring at him like he had just insulted his mother in his face, or something. “Let’s go to sleep. It’s late.”

“Shin. I told you to give me the keys.” He approached the younger man; if he tried to tower over him whenever the familiar semblance of submission threatened to fade, nobody had to know. “Come on. Why aren’t you listening to me?”

Shin looked away from his face, in turn, but didn’t move. “Why aren’t you listening to me? I’m not handing you the fucking keys.”

“Watch your language.” Hiyori leaned forward, giving him a dark look from above. His friend paid him no mind. “What’s your problem?”

That seemed to turn a switch inside of Shin’s head, and he scowled at the older man.

“You— you have been trying to leave me and I am the problem?” He suddenly raised his voice, unconsciously pointing an accusatory finger at his friend’s chest. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice? You’re so fucking distant these days, and I— I don’t want to think about it, okay?”

Hiyori was… baffled, to put it simply. Perhaps this was the mentality he did expect from Shin — but he wasn’t convinced that the other man would verbalize it so bluntly.

“Stop making things up in your head. It’s not good for your health.” Hiyori grinned, finally having a full grasp on the situation — he had been so blind, indeed. The problem was as clear as water. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? No more business trips, just for you. Just because I’m so kind.”

Shin merely stared at him, and something in his eyes shifted. “I don’t trust you.”

Ouch. Oh, well. “I didn’t expect you to, but don’t you think it’s slightly… extreme to lock me up in our apartment, like I’m your pet?”

“You treat me like a pet, though.” Ouch 2x. He deserved that one. “You don’t like how it feels?”

“…Awfully feisty today, I see.” Hiyori stepped *closer,*dangerously so, inclining his head towards Shin’s right ear. “C’mon, where are the keys? Should I try to find them myself?”

Shin opened and closed his mouth at least thrice. “I’ll tie you up if you don’t shut your mouth.”

“Where did you learn that?” Hiyori hummed. His hands were hovering over Shin’s torso, as if choosing where to land. “Hmm, it doesn’t matter. I’m into that.”

Shin gave him a weird look. “Wha—”

When he least expected it, Hiyori’s hands found his lower body — touching his sides, covered skin, slowly reaching his ass. “Did you really put them in your back pocket?”

“It’s— what the— no, they are not.” He clumsily placed his hands on his friend's shoulders as he tried to shove him away (with 10 or 100 percent of his strength, there was no way to know). “Stop groping me—”

“That’s an awful way to word things,” Hiyori hummed again, happy with himself. He felt the keys’ texture somewhere between his fingers, then, and lit up. “Ah, is this it?”

All of a sudden, Shin’s demeanor— changed. The strange little feeling was seemingly back to his mind, influencing his actions like a drug, and he slapped Hiyori’s hands harshly before stepping away from him. “Don’t.”

“Are you serious?” His roommate huffed, looking at the reddening skin. “Do you understand what you’re doing?”

“I fucking do, Hiyori.” Shin’s gaze didn’t falter; with newfound determination, he stepped closer once again to grab Hiyori’s hand — who didn’t stop him. “Do you understand the things I’d do for— for this, for you? You don’t, do you?”

“What are you saying?” Frowning, Hiyori let himself be guided by his friend, who looked completely out of it. “Hey, where are you taking me?”

Shin didn’t speak at all until they entered their shared room. Closing the door behind them for no apparent reason — to the older man’s eyes, at least —, he let out a suspiciously satisfied sigh.

Hiyori liked to see a lot of expressions on Shin’s face. This was not one of them.

“You taught me so many things, Hiyori.” The younger man breathed, speaking slowly and quietly. There was something entirely wrong about his stance, but Hiyori couldn’t pinpoint what, exactly. “Things I didn’t even need to learn. Until now.”

“…What do you mean, Shin?” He had taught his friend lots of things, indeed, but how could they possibly be important at the moment? “Ahahah, are you about to put me to sleep or something?”

Sou Hiyori and his big mouth.

Shin finally smiled at him, as bright as the sun — no, perhaps the moon when bathed in sunlight. If the moon was a young adult with undiagnosed mental disorders (yes, plural) way too severe for his age, that is.

“Well…” He searched for something in his pocket, but no key jingling sounds could be heard. He looked oddly content as he grabbed onto something. “You should’ve just touched my front pockets before the back ones, freak.”

Freak, he said, as if he wasn’t lunging forward and gripping Hiyori’s neck the next instant.

If Hiyori felt a damp piece of cloth against his nose and mouth for a few seconds, he didn’t do anything about it.

And if he woke up to a dark room with ropes tightly encircling his wrists and ankles, that, too, wasn’t a big problem.

He was quite proud of Shin, after all.