JE ANON FIC MEME!!1!1!11
JE ANON FIC MEME
Rules:
1) IP logged is OFF. Anon is ON
2) 1 of the character must be a Johnny. Example: you can request another PochixArashi or KamexSkull but NO to pedo fic
3) Please request whatever you want from gen to any higher rating
4) Use following format:
Pairing(s)/ Persons I want:
What I want:
Rating:
Notes/Extras:
*5) For kids underage, MUST ( Read more... )
Pairing : Sakumiya
Rating : NC17
2
“You’re late to the party, Niichan,” Shiro purred against their brother’s chest, almost giving Jiro the heart attack in shock; Jiro squeaked, surprised, and was seconds from deciding either to kick his brother on the head for always doing this to him or whether to leave them be in favor of stalking straight into his own bedroom. Shiro popped an eye open, shifting a little and therefore letting go of his hold around their oldest brother’s waist. Jiro watched as Ichiro-nii moved to his side, murmuring something incoherently as he nuzzled Goro’s hair before falling completely still.
His heart still somewhat throbbing hard against his chest, he cringed, realizing that Shiro was now rolling over on his other side and was quickly up on all fours and crawling his way to where Jiro was, eyes lidded with sleep and alcohol. Small fingers found their way to Jiro’s foot and Jiro found himself crouching down to pull his younger brother up, steadying him with both hands gripping Shiro’s arms.
“You should sleep,” he murmured, eyes trained on his brother’s face as Shiro struggled to keep himself upright; it was late and Jiro was tired, and he’d only thought of staying here to watch his brothers for a few minutes before he hit his own bed but -
“I’m not sleepy,” came Shiro’s slurry response, settling himself on Jiro’s lap and worming his arms around Jiro’s neck; Shiro was warm, too warm, and his familiar weight on Jiro’s legs was a comforting reassurance that no matter what happened, they have this, they have each other.
Jiro chuckled against his brother’s hair, let his hand traveled to the small of his brother’s back as Shiro shifted more comfortably over his lap. He could feel his brother’s breathe against his neck, warm and tickling, his brother’s body was soft and familiar against his hold. “Yes you are,” he whispered, then, “sleepy and drunk; you should go back to sleep.”
Shiro purred, all husky voice and teasing half-smile; Jiro could feel his brother’s damp lips against the side of his neck, and quietly wished Shiro would stop doing that. “Don’t want to,” Shiro muttered, stubbornly refusing to let go even with Jiro’s hand pushing him off his lap.
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