Shoko comes home late. Always late, like usual. But you know she never means it, her work keeps her up at night, and it’s apparent by the veils of exhaustion draped beneath her fox-like eyes, they almost remind you of crescents, dark yet gentle.

She didn’t know what to expect when she came home this late, but it definitely was not this. You were drunk, and it definitely wasn’t just tipsy, but rather really really drunk. The second you hear her steps, she feels your arms wrap around her shoulders, clinging and whining complete nonsense as you press messy, but soft kisses her all over her face and neck, it was like you were painting sonnets with each brush of your lips against her skin.

“Sweet girl,” she sighed, a hand dipping down to rub lazy circles into your hip, the other still holding her bag as she set it down. “What happened, hm?” She asks, voice soft and velvety, dripping with utter sweetness, honey-like; clogging up your throat with nothing but her undying love for you.

Now she chooses to wrap both her arms around your waist, sighing tiredly, but she can’t help it when an amused chuckle leaves her lips, she thinks you’re utterly adorable when you’re drunk out of your pretty little mind. “Baby, c’mon, need an explanation.”