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hiwofumi · 2 years

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𝚊 𝚞 𝚐 𝚞 𝚜 𝚝

Summer love with the Sano boys. Shinichiro’s ver.

For context, the Sanos own a beach house. It’s the same setting for each boy, but on different occasions.

18+ ⭒ MDNI ⭒ 1.9k words

starring ⭒ Post-Black Dragons Shinichiro ⭒ AFAB Reader

tags ⭒ Fluff and smut ⭒ Reader is a bikini wearer ⭒ Wardrobe malfunctions ⭒ Loss of virginity ⭒ Mutual masturbation ⭒ Vaginal penetration ⭒ Buildup before smut, Chief!

note ⭒ Not the first Swift song that would inspire me to write the naughty-naughty—that’s the reputation album’s job—but it’s their birth month, so I had to. Here’s entry #1 for @fueledbysano’s Sano Collab! ⭒ I tried to make it special for Shin’s first time. Goodness. I don’t know if I’ll be able to give Izana and Mikey the same treatment :,)

network ⭒ @tokyometronetwork pulled up and said “Get in the car”

versions ⭒ Mikey’s ver.⠀Izana’s ver.

𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚏 “𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎?”

“𝙽𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝙸 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎”

The sea leveled with your hips seems to still when Shinichiro says it: “Your top’s loose,”

He points it out sheepishly, a finger raised to your chest. You understand, then, that his flushed cheeks weren’t caused by spending the late afternoon under the sun.

His intention was not to shame, yet that is what you feel when you tilt your head down and see the strings of your bikini swaying at your sides. Your chest would be bare if not for the lace keeping the top around your neck. “Oh.”

You rush to tie it back on and curse inwardly—at the waves’ strength for untying the knot, at yourself for not tightening it enough. You fail to notice Shinichiro reaching for you with a reluctant hand, clumsily shaping words: “Uh, let me,”

You raise your head at him. He’s wading his way to you, immersed from the thighs down. “Oh . . . okay,” is your stuttered response before you turn your back to him.

The sight of the rocking sea greets you amidst the subtle squeeze around your bust. “Is that fine?”

“Yeah,” you answer, still diffident in his quiet. The sun is a yolk sinking halfway under the horizon. By breathing in warm air, you’re somewhat relaxed, and when you exhale it’s with an awkward chuckle. “How embarrassing.”

“What?” he laughs as well. “No. Don’t be. It’s just me,”

Just him.

Shinichiro has been with you long enough for you to know that his love for you is true. He’s seen nearly every part of you—the pretty and ugly, the highs and lows, the best and worst.

But he hasn’t seen your body quite yet. Not to the fullest extent, let alone felt it.

As the sun stares back at you, a thought comes to mind: What do I have to hide from him?

The signs are dangling right in front of you: the private beach, the unshared company of each other, the sudden shows of skin. If there is a flower that will blossom from this trip, it’s a step further into intimacy.

“All done,” he says.

When you face him, he smiles from cheek to cheek. You love him more for this, catching you whenever you slip, reminding you that you can fall in front of him.

Comforted, you smile back at him. “Thanks, Shin.”

✱

He can’t tell you what he saw. If he did, he would soil the sacredness of first times, a belief you share with him.

So he shoves it aside as you spend the remaining daylight playing in the water, then you walk home covered in towels, holding hands in the subtle dark.

But even if he fails to acknowledge it, the body responds to what it sees: beneath his stomach, a faint pulse resides, and he suspects his body temperature is warmer than the sea in the daytime.

While the door clicks shut by his hand, a wet plop sounds behind him. When he turns to you in the entryway of his house, his heart skitters.

Your towel and bikini top is on the floor. Your naked chest is exposed to his eyes.

“What are you . . .” the last word evaporates from his hanging mouth. The lower half of your swimsuit—your last piece of clothing—doesn’t cover much, either. You may as well be fully naked in front of him.

You’re still shy about this; it shows when your eyes move to the floor, your hand tentatively rubbing your upper arm. “Your trunks . . . they’re a little small.”

Small?

He looks down. He almost thinks it’s funny how the tables have turned, seeing an “accident” of his own making: a tropical heat in his shorts. Fuck.

“I’ve noticed. Since earlier.” Your eyes meet in the space taking up the middle of you two. “It’s my fault, isn’t it?”

He gulps, the lump on his throat bobbing. He wants to steady his eyes on yours as much as he can. He’s trying—trying terribly hard. “Yeah,” he admits quietly.

You amble to him, grains of sand scattering in your trail. You take his hand and lace your fingers together, staring past the dark threads framing his eyes, where mania wanders. You say it clearly so he understands: “It’s just me.”

Just you.

He’s loved you through words and gestures, through thoughts and daydreams. When the dreams get too dark, he helps himself to relief, soothing the sparks that string across his aching nerves.

It would be a lie to say he hadn’t considered this happening when he brought you here alone. The mood, the scene, and the time felt right. It was a neon sign flickering in his face: Now. It can’t be any more memorable than this.

“Shin,” his name, when it escapes your lips, is cool in the heat growing under his skin, calm in the loud flutter of his heart, “I’m ready when you are.”

When he sees the slight upward turn of your mouth, he frames it with his fingers. Then his hands fall to your hips, and he sighs warmly. “You’re beautiful,”

He takes the plunge, falling into a kiss that is hungry but patient, neither gentle nor rough. He lifts you up to his waist, and you drape your arms over his shoulders as he carries you to his room.

Pale sheets chafe his knees as he sets your back on the mattress delicately. Though the light is dim, his face above yours is as clear as the night ahead of you.

The little space between you recedes. His saliva wets your lips, and your palms glide over his back, over his protruding shoulder blades and the subtle dips they lead to. He fondles your breasts, evoking soft hums that only encourage him to go further.

When your lips part, it’s with a soft smack. Both are glossy and swollen, expelling heavy breaths. “Do you trust me?” he asks softly, voice deep and considerate.

You knew this when he was just a friend, then a best friend, then a lover: “I trust you,” you whisper back, stroking his warm cheek.

This would be his first time. The thought alone made you want him to take his sweet time, to soak up the glory of tangling with a lover, of holding their shape in its purest form.

His eyes also smile when his lips do, then his hand slides down to discard your last piece of clothing. It comes off easier when you fold your legs.

He strokes you with his whole palm as if to study the shape and width of you, a wetness already there, increasing with his touch. He rubs your clit in circles, breaking the pattern of your breath, and your mound leans further into his hand to heighten the sensation.

His other hand cups your breast and kneads, his eyes fixed on every small movement of yours: the perk of your nipples, the uneven rise and fall of your chest, the loud and hot breaths.

“You look helpless,” he tells you with a hint of pride. Your eyes are half-closed from the weight of his touch, but you can still see him, and you can see the lust coloring his eyes. Then his finger enters you and strokes slowly, and everything but him darkens in your line of vision.

You angle your hips upward to get him to where it feels best, and you hold yourself still when he reaches it with light thrusts, moaning when his pace quickens. “That good?”

“Mmm,” you hum in return. You yelp when he nudges another finger in, a breath catching in your throat. You see concern mark his face, but you shake your head briefly, biting your lip. “It’s good.”

You cup his face and take his moist lips into yours again, sinking further into the pillow. You’re not so helpless that you’re unable to pull his trunks downward, take a glance at his swinging erection, then hold it steady in your hand.

“Fuck,” he hisses, hardening more when you stroke him, gently at first. You feel him shiver on top of you, hearing a breath sucked through clenched teeth. Your pace hastens, and he responds by burying his fingers into you deeper. You exchange harsh breaths and soft moans, his fingers curling inside of you, your hand twisting around his cock. You listen to each other’s sounds, absorb each other’s breath, and mutually need more, more, more.

A bubble expands in your chest when his fingers leave your cunt, glistening amply. Your hand is still around his cock when he steadies himself above you, aligning with your entrance. You spread your legs a tad wider as his tip comes in contact with your pulsing, wet hole. Then your hands move to his hips, clutching as he slides in, drawn out moans spilling from either side. He pauses midway, shaking above you, and throbbing inside of you.

He moves, bobbing ever so slightly to make you adjust to him little by little. “Is this okay?”

“Very,” you exhale, thinking you should praise the thoughtfulness, but you can’t when your mouth is parted for lewder things; he deepens his thrusts, and you cry out, “Oh,”

He spreads your thighs further apart, his hands squeezing plush skin, and with the lubrication he slides with such ease that you spout monosyllables, throwing your wrists over his shoulders. He raises your hips, doubling the amount of bliss. “Shin. There. There. Fuck,”

His pace hastens at the lustful sound of his name, and you take a good look at his flushed face as he bucks over you, the heavy crease in his brows and his fallen eyelids, his mouth puffing short breaths. The thought sparks again, that he’s lost his virginity to you, and it mixes with the thrill bleeding into your bodies, dripping in your veins.

His heat spreads all over you—you feel it in the skip of your heart, the curl of your stomach, the pulse drumming in your wrist. You moan so sweetly as he juts toward a point that sends tingles down your whole body, straining your legs and hips and rasping throat. “So . . . good . . . fuck,” you sigh.

“Shit,” he curses, and you trap him between closed legs, sealing the rhythm, taking the heaves of his chest against your own. He’s reached your limit, skin slapping and producing the wet noise accompanied by the squeak of the bed from your harsh and weighty movements.

“Shin,” you keep crying, approaching the point of giving in, “Don’t stop, Shin,”

“Fuck, you’re clenching around me,” he groans, flushed and fast-paced, losing control of his own scheme. He’s beautiful in his strain. You capture it with glossy eyes: his erratic breaths, his shaking arms, the hard click of his teeth. You embrace him as he rakes the noises out of you with rough and brisk motions. You near the end, and he pours all of his strength into his final thrusts until you release into him, and he releases into you.

You exhale in long pants, coming to a still underneath him. His warm fluid fills the inside of you, and his chest presses against yours, his face falling to the side of your head. After a moment’s rest, your arms loosen around him.

Your mouth’s gone dry from having been open a while. It moistens again as he raises his head to look at you.

You gulp, brushing away the sweaty strands over his eyes to watch the sparkle in his gaze. You will know this moment for a lifetime; it’s his and yours forever.

“I love you,” he blurts out amidst heavy breaths.

He’s mesmerized by your smile, the parting of your mouth to say it back, “I love you too.”

#shinichiro x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyorev x reader #tokyo rev smut #tokyorev smut #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev x you #tokyo revengers x you #shinichiro smut #shinichiro x you #shinichiro fluff #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo rev fluff #sanocollab #꒰ penned ꒱

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hiwofumi · 2 years

Text

𝚊 𝚞 𝚐 𝚞 𝚜 𝚝

Summer love with the Sano boys. Mikey’s ver.

For context, the Sanos own a beach house. It’s the same setting for each boy, but on different occasions.

18+ ⭒ MDNI ⭒ 1.4k words

starring ⭒ Manila Arc Mikey ⭒ AFAB Reader

tags ⭒ Smut ⭒ Reader is a bikini wearer ⭒ Whipped Mikey ⭒ Dirty talk ⭒ Public sex ⭒ He’s kinda rough ⭒ Standing doggy ⭒ Stand and carry

note ⭒ Entry #2 for @fueledbysano’s Sano Collab! Thank you for the warm reception of Shin’s version! ⭒ Just realizing now that I’m not posting in the right order of the lyrics ⭒ Robyn, it may not be a penthouse, but I think you get the gist :]

network ⭒ Meet me behind @tokyometronetwork

versions ⭒ Shinichiro’s ver.⠀Izana’s ver.

𝚂𝚊𝚕𝚝 𝚊𝚒𝚛, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛

𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎

When Manjiro reaches the balcony entrance, he stares.

You stand out against the backdrop of the sea—he knows he’s biased, but he has no shame in admitting it: you’re more breathtaking than the view of the beach, even with just your back facing him. Your elbows rest on the railing; the ribbon of your bikini top adorns your back; your curves cascade downward to more curves, where supple skin peeks out of your tight bikini bottom.

He’s committed plenty of sins before. But he believes, at this moment, his biggest sin is choosing a nap over the opportunity to be in the presence of this.

His knees wobble with regret.

He saunters, and the harsh sound of rolling waves mutes his footsteps. You turn your head in surprise when a pair of arms lace around your stomach, a warm figure pressing against your back. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” his voice is soft and low.

You regard him from head to shoulder. He’s in his favorite black tank top; it matches his hair, which sways lightly from genial winds; it matches his eyes, which still carry remnants of sleep. You smile, and your arms fall over his own, unaware that every motion rattles his chest—your whole presence has this effect on him. “’Cause you’re a grump when you’re woken up.”

“I’m not,” he has the nerve to deny, and you almost retort when his lips crawl over the slope of your shoulder, blurring any comeback you had in mind. “Especially not when you’re wearing this.”

His lips trail up to your neck, then behind the shell of your ear. Your skin prickles in response, but you hold your ground, leaning only slightly against his body while your head remains turned in his direction. “Is that so? Maybe I’ll wear bikinis more often, then. That ought to keep you tamed.”

“I’d like that,” he admits almost too quickly, “maybe a little too much.” The words vibrate against your ear, raising more bumps on your skin. Under the breeze cooling your chest, your heart thumps.

You hum in return, “What do you mean by that?” though you’re just playing coy. You’re entertained by this, this mania he disguises under a mask of calm.

“I think you look good against this railing. That’s all I’m sayin’.” His kisses behind your ear are too enticing, too hard to ignore.

You inhale quietly, “And?”

His hand wanders, cupping your breast over slippery fabric. “And I know how to make you look even better.”

You saw it from a mile away: his other hand burrows between your thighs, rubbing over the cloth. Your own hand finds the railing, needing to clutch it as your thighs clench around his rotating fingers. “If I moan,” you exhale, “do you think someone will hear us?”

“Maybe,” his fingers slide under both pieces of your swimsuit, brushing over your erect nipple and pulsing clit. You burn even more. “Would you let ’em hear you? Would you let ’em know what I’m doing to you?”

Your breath falters, and you can no longer help it. “Yes,” you arch your bottom to meet his groin, where his bulge resides, “so fuck me all you want.”

Once you say it, he can’t be stopped.

Two fingers slide into your cunt and stretch you immediately. The whine you let out competes with the roaring waves, the squawking seagulls.

He pushes you over the railing with his other hand, and you feel him tug at the string holding your bikini top in place; it slackens from your chest, pointing to the floor, and he fondles your bare breasts while working into your swelling cunt. As you loosen around his fingers, he grinds his pelvis against your bottom, and you feel his hard-on pressing, setting you further from reason. Your moans come out as stuttered hums, as messy vowels.

“Spread for me,” he tells you, and you comply, parting your legs wider. You feel him leave your figure all at once—his hands and hips gone, only an air of his silhouette left. Then he tugs your lower bikini down, and he grabs your hips, sliding his cock into you without warning. Your view of the sea blurs, and your throat strains with every inch he buries into you. Amidst his groaning, he utters, “Tight. And so fucking pretty,” he lets out a breath of pleasure before he moves at a fair pace.

You inhale sharply, arching your back as you fold your arms on the railing, dipping your head in-between. He strokes your clit at a brisk pace, and you curse over the sensation you’re unsure how long your body can withstand. “Fuck, Manjiro,”

“I like that,” he grunts between his movements, and you wonder how he can still speak in this position, “go on, keep saying it. Tell me who you belong to.”

“Manjiro!” you cry as he shoves himself further, his tip meeting a point that flutters your stomach and weakens your knees. You feel the hard contact of his groin on your ass, the slap of his balls against your wet bottom. Then your mind blanks when he pulls out, leaving you stretched and pulsating eagerly, heaving breaths.

He gives you a mere second of rest before he turns you around, your softened figure facing his own. You take a look at his earnest face, then you look down to where his cock glides over your wet slit. You moan faintly and meet his eyes again; you can see, even in your teary vision, that they burn with the same intensity as his flushed skin. “You’re stunning.” He breathes out.

His words are accompanied by another teasing nudge of his cock. You breathe through your parted mouth, your back pressing against the railing for support. “Manjiro, my knees are giving out,” you tell him weakly.

He snickers arrogantly; he knows what you’re asking for, humored by the hint of your statement. “You just wanna get fucked deeper,”

You mentally applaud him for knowing better, flattered by how well he knows you. You submit when he lifts you by the underside of your thighs, buckles your legs around the small of his back, and allows a glimpse of his cock as it enters you again. He slides far into you, and you reward him with soft cries and the clench of your cunt, admiring the stress on his features with your cloudy vision.

There’s a pressure in being sandwiched between his cock and the railing, one that urges you to throw your arms around his neck and cling on for dear life. Your body jerks with his harsh thrusts, his tip brushing the very end of you, your mind tossing into the seemingly endless wave of pleasure. “Manjiro. Manjiro. Oh, fuck,”

“Hold on to me,” he pants. Your skin rubs against the hot metal behind you, and your body shakes as you dig your nails into his shoulders. You tug him close until your chests press, the orgasm threatening to spurt with every beating pulse. “Come all over me,” he urges.

With a cry, you reach the peak of your arousal, and his warm fluid flows into you with the last of his thrusts.

You pant together in that spot, his body giving in to exhaustion, but his arms still securing you. He leans on your body, his chin resting on your shoulder as you let relief wash over you like waves.

“Can you stand?” he asks, his chest beating hard against your own.

“Yes,” you answer, heaving back. “You can put me down.”

With his remaining strength, he pulls out, and your bare feet meet the wooden floor. His hands rest on either side of you while he lowers his head. You take a moment to fix yourself; you pull your bikini back on, tying your top loosely, then you help him wear his shorts, too. You push his hair back and cup his face, brushing your thumbs over the apples of his cheeks. “I wanted to swim,” you sulk jokingly.

He looks at you, resembling a puppy when he says, “Are you saying you rather wouldn’t’ve had sex?”

You linger in silence for a moment. “Sex is all right, too,” you feign nonchalance, but you’re unable to help the smile that grows on your face.

“All right? You were just all over me,”

You laugh, then you take his arm and drag him into the house. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s rest and go for a swim.”

#mikey x reader #mikey smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyorev x reader #tokyo rev smut #tokyorev smut #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev x you #tokyo revengers x you #mikey x you #manjiro sano x reader #manjiro smut #manjiro x you #sanocollab #꒰ penned ꒱

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