#all he wants is for ken to kiss his scars and hold him

[pharawee]

it's a lie for a lie and I'm getting tired on the other side, on the other side

[velvetcrimsonkisses]

COCKWARMING W/ JJK MEN

cw: smut

Gojo Satoru

Such a whiny boy. He's sooo confident that he can have you sit on his cock for hours and he won’t budge and even says that you won’t last. But he’s all talk. Once you sit on his pretty cock he’s fucked out. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, a thin layer of sweat covering his body and his hips bucking up into you. Pleading to his pretty girlfriend to let him cum because he can’t take it anymore. He needs you. 

“Please, please baby, f-fuck.” he whines as he keeps a solid grip on your hips sure to leave his hand prints.  

“Wait, toru… not yet baby,” you coo into his ear as you continue to meet his desperate thrusts. 

“Can I cum now? Please baby…” his lips attack your neck, pressing sloppy wet kisses into it causing you to throw your head back from the immense pleasure this man knew how to give you just from mere kisses, let alone the fact he was so deep inside you about to burst.

And he does. He fills you so good. Mouth slightly agape, eyes shut close as you feel him twitch inside you. 

“Fuck, so good” he smirks at you watching his cum drip down your thighs. 

Geto Suguru 

His cock is so deliciously thick but you hate (not really) cockwarming this man because of how much of a tease he is. He’s holding you down as you slowly sink down onto him. 

“C’mon babe… can your poor pussy take all of it?” his hand comes up to wipe the tear forming on the side of your eye. 

“Y-yes, i can” you nod as you finally bottom out on his cock. 

He brings you in for a hot kiss, the shift causing you to arch your back. Good thing he’s holding onto you so tight that he won’t let you escape, ever. Both of you carry on making out, tongues swirling around exploring each other's mouths. His hands slide up to your ass to give it a squeeze as your hands tangle in his long raven locks. Finally ending the kiss, a string of saliva connecting you both as you try to breathe. 

“I’m so fucking deep inside you,” Geto’s hand comes to your lower tummy, pointing out the slight bulge there that his cock is making. A grin appearing on his perfect face. 

Wasn’t long after, he was fucking into you. Purple orbs set on watching how you take his cock so well, over and over again. 

Nanami Kento 

Nanami who lets you cockwarm him when he’s had a long day and he’s just about to be done with work. Having his pretty wife sit down on his cock while he finishes some annoying paperwork, but you just can’t help but start moving your hips up and down on him. Desperate to tease you oh-so handsome husband. 

“Don’t be naughty honey,” he utters softly into your ear. His voice like music to your ears. “Gonna give you my cock right now.” He presses a kiss to your temple. 

“Can’t wait no more Ken,” you sigh as you begin peppering tender kisses on his neck. “Need you so bad…”

Nanami knows so well he can’t resist his wife when she is so needy for him. He throws his back at the feeling of your kisses, eyes shut tight trying to enjoy all the attention you were giving him. Honestly overwhelming the man to the point, he instinctively wraps his large arms around your waist and pumps his entire length into your cunt at a rapid pace. Not slowing down until you are filled to the brim with his cum. 

“This what you wanted honey?” He murmurs coming to kiss your cheek. 

Toji Fushiguro

Toji loves cockwarming after he fucks the living soul out of you. Holding you in a mating press as he cums inside you, he wants to make sure it stays inside so he doesn’t pull out. Instead he fucks into you painfully slow after your orgasm, leaving you with no words besides desperate whines only for his ears. Taking pride in leaving you a babbling mess, he watches you with a smirk that only makes his scar that much more attractive and prominent. Green eyes piercing into yours as he takes your hand and presses soft delicate kisses on it because in his words “it helps ease the pain” of his fat cock drilling into you. 

“Fuck… so pretty f’me” He grunts as he thrusts into you deep one more time before coming down to lay on your chest. 

“You aren’t gonna pull out?” you ask him obviously still trying to catch your breath. Your hand comes up to push his strayed hair out of his face. 

“Nah, wanna sleep like this.” he mumbles. 

And just like that, he's out cold. But don’t be surprised if you’re woken up in your sleep by him fucking into you once again because he always gets hard around his pretty baby. 

Choso Kamo

You needed to explain what cockwarming was to Choso and even after you did, he wasn’t so fond of the idea. He loved being inside you so much that he didn’t believe in himself that he wouldn’t be able to just absolutely destroy your cunt once he slipped in. 

And he was right. 

“No baby… I can’t,” he whines as you're still trying to take him inside completely. 

“Cho… you aren’t even fully inside yet,” you reiterate to him, almost scolding him. 

All he can do is shake his head before he turns you over so he's fully onto top of you. A string of curses leaving his lips as he sinks himself all the way into your silky walls. Once Choso is inside you, he’s a lost cause and no one can pull him out until he makes you cum again and again until you’re both satisfied. It was worth a shot you think to yourself before he begins fucking into you at an animalistic pace.

“Never doing that again,” he enunciates with every thrust. 

“You didn’t even try Cho,” you manage to say as he presses into you deeper. 

“I’ll let you sit on my face later… to make up for it,” you feel him smirking into your neck. 

A soft laugh echoes through the room as you nod, accepting his compromise. 

Sukuna Ryomen 

“You want to do what?” He scoffs as he watches you with a displeased look. 

“I want to sit on your cock… for a while” You try not to make contact with the curse. 

After explaining what cockwarming was to Sukuna, he was intrigued. Letting you do most of the work since it was your idea. He watches you attentively as you lube and prep yourself for him. 

“You gonna keep watching me or are you gonna help?” you give him an almost annoyed look. 

“Such a needy brat. Just come sit on it already.” He demands, staring daggers at you. 

You do just as he says and Sukuna derives immense joy from seeing you in such pain taking his monstrous cock. Lazily holding you up with one of his four arms and he watches you take him inch by inch, pain and pleasure mixing divinely. 

“Why are you crying little thing?” He asks in a worrisome tone but the stupid smirk plastered all over his face says otherwise. “I haven’t even fucking moved, yet.” 

[actuallysaiyan]

Get Him To Swap Our Places(Scarred!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader)

warnings: breeding kink, JJK spoilers, AU, Scarred!Nanami, yandere themes, rough sex, unprotected sex, lactation kink, impregnation kink, dark themes, possessiveness, nipple play, slapping, slight daddy kink word count: 1.2k pairings: Scarred!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader a/n: based on ideas by the wonderful @beneathstarryskies Thank you so much for your beautiful mind!!! also art credit for the banner you can find here dividers by@/benkeibear

taglist: @beneathstarryskies @an-ever-angry-bi @seireiteihellbutterfly

@namikyento @adharadotcom @heyitsd1yaa

@darkstarlight82 @melisuh123. @galactict3a

@erebus-et-eigengrau @aomi04 @isabelzoldyck

@cinnamon-girl-writes @felixmr. @typicalemo @entirelysein-e

@starsinmylatte (here is the scarred Nanami fic I promised you!)

“I should have just impregnated you before I went to that damn mission in Shibuya,”

Kento’s words ring in your ears. You whine softly, clinging to your husband as you rock your hips. He can’t quite fuck you the way he used to, but you two always make an effort to make love whenever you can. Kento had been thinking he wouldn’t be able to be intimate with you for a long time after the incident.

He pulls you from your deep thoughts by kissing you and nipping your bottom lip. Your walls clench around him and you squeal in surprise. You look into his eyes, loving the way the darkened and damaged eye still softens when he looks at you. He was never able to properly get the eyesight back, but he still looks at you like the first day he met you all those years ago.

“Did you hear me?” he growls softly in your ear. “I said I should have impregnated you instead of going to Shibuya.”

You whimper, “Baby, don’t think about that.”

He pushes you down onto the bed, maneuvering you both so that you’re on your back and he’s on top of you. You can tell that he can’t move you around quite the same way he used to, but he’s not afraid to do it whenever he feels like he’s got the energy to do so. He kisses you again.

“I just don’t want you thinking that you can just leave me.”

Your heart flutters in your chest. He’s thinking those thoughts again. The ones that cloud his mind for logical thought. He hasn’t been the same man since he’s healed from the incident, but you love him all the same. You cup his face in your hands, but Kento pulls away.

“Tell me you won’t leave me!”

Your eyes widen. You feel your heart breaking for the beautiful man that is above you. You try to reach out to touch him again, but he pins your wrists above your head. You then feel him pushing his cock back into you, making you cry out.

“If you won’t stay, I’ll make you stay!”

He begins to pump into you harder and faster; he leans in to capture your lips in another searing kiss. When you feel his tongue penetrating your lips, you let out a muffled moan. He enjoys playing this little game with you. But it’s not really a game. It’s a power play for him. It gives him leverage and makes him feel so good.

“Going to fuck a baby into you,” he grunts. “Going to get you pregnant.”

You try to reach out to hold him, but he has your wrists so tightly pinned to the bed. He’s enjoying the little squeaks and squeals you let out from being fucked so hard. Something snapped inside of him when he returned to you from that damn incident, and while sometimes it scares you, you know it’s still your Ken underneath it all.

His hips begin to snap violently, pushing the air from your lungs. Kento smirks as he watches you reacting to this. Your eyes rolling back, your mouth hanging open so slightly. Even your cheeks seem a little flush too. You don’t know how you’re supposed to last long with him fucking you this harshly.

“Come on,” he goads you on. “Cum for me, let me feel this pussy clench around me.”

He lets one of his hands come trailing down your body. Kento stops only to begin tweaking your nipples. He roughly pulls on them, causing you to clench around him. His eyes darken even more. 

“Is that what gets you off? Is this what will make you milk my cock?” His voice is laced with need and lust. “Cause you aren’t leaving this bed until you milk my cock. Do you understand me?”

When you don’t reply right away, he slaps your breast. You let out a yelp and moan softly. Nanami leans in to kiss you again, and then he repeats his words.

“Don’t make me repeat myself once again. You aren’t leaving this bed until you milk my cock, do you understand?”

You nod your head pathetically, “Yes, I understand.”

Kento leans in to take one of your pert nipples into his mouth. You let out such a cute little moan, it makes his cock throb deep inside of you. He leans over to take the other one into his mouth, sucking on it softly before letting it go with an audible ‘pop’ sound.

“Mmm fuck, your tits are so sweet. I bet they’ll be sweeter when they are all full of milk.”

Your cheeks burn even more as you hear him say the most feral things about your body. His hand is still keeping your wrists pinned above your head and his hips are still snapping and pumping as he fucks you more and more. You’re so desperate for release now. Soft words of pleading and begging begin to tumble from your lips.

“Tell me you’ll let me drink from your tits,” Kento grunts as he picks up his pace. “Tell me you’ll let me drink the sweet milk from these beautiful tits when you get pregnant.”

“Kento,” you whine. “I…’m gonna let you drink from my tits.”

“That’s my good girl.”

His hand continues to caress downwards, making you shudder at the calloused and scarred hand that’s touching you. He slows his pace just a little so he reaches between the two of you. You let out a soft whimper when his thumb presses on your clit, then he begins to rub it.

“Gonna cum for me? Make me cum inside you, huh? I know you want to make me a daddy.”

His words are making you feel even more aroused than usual. You and Kento like to make love, but he’s never been this rough with you since before the incident. You nod your head eagerly; your lips parted as you begin to moan his name. Your thighs are shuddering as the coil in your stomach is seconds away from snapping.

“Gonna. Fill. You. Up.” Each word is punctuated with a harsh thrust; the first one being the one to push you over the edge. “It’s the only way I get to keep my baby if she has my baby.”

Your hands desperately try to reach out to him to ground yourself. Your breath hitches in your throat as Kento fucks you harder and deeper; slamming himself into you over and over. The pleasure builds too much too fast and you feel the first orgasm teetering into the second orgasm. You cry out, your walls are clamping down on him like a velvet vice.

“Fuck!” Kento growls as he continues to pound into you. “That’s it, milk my cock! Milk daddy’s cock!”

Kento slams into you once more, his cock nestled right against your cervix. Ropes of hot, potent cum begin to fill your waiting womb. You feel so delirious and crazy, the pleasure filling your mind completely that you feel numb to anything else. 

He slumps against your tits, taking one of your nipples into his mouth. He closes his eyes and lets go of your wrists. Immediately, you begin to play with his hair. Both of you catch your breath for a moment; the sound of your breathing being the only thing filling the room.

“I love you,” his voice is vulnerable now.

“I love you too,” you reassure him. “I never had any intention of leaving you.”

[steddielations]

Dom Steve Fic Recs

Strange as Angels (soft dom steve) by @munsonkitten

Eddie hasn't been able to get himself off in months, and now he's high, sweaty, and horny, thinking about the very man sitting in his room in nothing but a wife beater and a pair of tiny athletic shorts, and he thinks he might die. Steve notices. Of course, Steve fucking notices, what, with all the squirming Eddie's doing. Steve offers to help get Eddie off. As friends do. (As long as those friends are completely in love with each other.)

Like The Hero Who Never Ran (dom awakening series) by callmejude

While Steve and Dustin are searching for survivors, they're surprised to find Eddie alive, hiding out in Rick's cabin. Steve takes up the task of caring for him while staying in his trailer.

Genius Loci (dom bottom, magic steve) by @sayesayes

It’s 1986, and Steve falls in love with a boy who is leaving. It’s 1990, and Eddie comes back home. The fic where Steve is a selectively mute, homesteading, truck-driving witch with head injuries and also somehow it's canonverse.

(Don't) cream your pants (soft dom steve awakening series) by @corrodedbisexual

“Don’t know how to cream your pants, huh?” Steve asks, unable to conceal a smirk. He hears a quiet whine as Eddie seems to try and make himself disappear inside the couch. “Want me to show you how?”

Gilded (dom steve, blindfolds, ice play) by @cheshiredogao3

Steve and Eddie are looking forward to a weekend all to themselves, but it doesn’t go as planned.

Trouble Looks Good On You (wip, spanking, kink discovery) by me indelicate

It happens like a fever dream. The first time Steve gives Eddie a swift smack on the ass, it’s obviously just an old jock habit that’s stuck with him. It wasn’t meant to have Eddie’s knees going weak, or turn his blood hot under his skin, or give him a brand in the shape of Steve Harrington’s hand, or— Nope, because Eddie’s not even into that. But then, it happens again. Or, Steve keeps accidentally awakening Eddie’s new kinks.

You Make Me Feel Like I Am Whole Again (wip, dom top and dom bottom steve) by @munsonkitten

Eddie has never felt like his body belongs to him. It gets worse after he's nearly mauled to death, left with scars and healing wounds, a lopsided chest, and more trauma stacked on top of everything already wrong with him. Steve Harrington finds out Eddie's trans by accident after the bats, and Eddie finds out Steve's surprisingly okay with it. More than okay with it.

Bite Through These Wires (soft dom steve's strap game series 🤭) by @steves-strapcollection

“Wouldn’t you be Ken, though?” Steve had hoped Eddie would ask a question like that and he had to refrain from punching the air and ruining his punchline. “I come with all the coolest accessories, so clearly I’m still Barbie,” Steve retorted, his voice going just a bit deeper as he leaned closer to Eddie.

Relax (Lay it Back) (soft dom yoga instructor steve) by @wynnyfryd

Five times yoga instructor Steve teaches Eddie how to chill the fuck out, and the one time he learns his lesson.

Melt Me On Your Tongue (soft dom, bathing) by me indelicate

“This okay?” ��Yeah it’s— shit, it’s more than okay, Steve.” “… you’re crying, Eds.” Eddie can’t hold back a choked off noise then, somewhere between an overwhelmed laugh and a sob. “No one’s ever done this to me before.” He doesn’t know if he means no one’s ever given him a bath, or braided his hair, or just any of the things Steve does for him, really. Eddie's never had a Steve before.

Kiss Me (Beneath the Milky Twilight) (pleasure dom steve, virgin eddie) by @gorgeousgreymatter-x

Eddie has never been kissed. Steve apparently would very much like to volunteer to fix this.

Getting Lost in the Dark is My Favorite Part (wip, masochist virgin eddie, kink discovery) by queerontilmorning

After his near-death experience, Eddie decides it's time to get rid of his pesky virginity and heads to a gay bar. It leads to some... realizations... for both him and Steve.

You're a Sweet Shot of Kerosene (When I Threw it Back, it Poisoned Me) (wip, mob boss steve) by @gorgeousgreymatter-x

Whatever fucked up shit Eddie’s father had inadvertently roped him into simply by being what he was — a shit-stain excuse for a sperm donor who preferred sticking a needle in his arm to taking care of his family — well, Eddie’s pretty sure it’s about to be him that pays that price. And maybe Eddie’s delirious, because by the time it’s apparently his turn and they’re dragging him down some hallway (and yeah, it’s not like Eddie’s not trying to put up a fight, but it feels almost performative at this point considering he’s pretty much hogtied here), the only real thought he has when they deposit him on yet another cold, wet tile floor is this: Uncle Wayne is gonna be so pissed at me if I get shot in the head tonight.

closer to you (soft dom steve) by @natesfwl

“C’mon baby, where's my little rockstar?” Steve spanks him, groans when he feels Eddie tense up around him from the impact, “Perform for me.” “You let me penetrate you” Eddie stutters out the line as he lifts himself up with his knees. “There you go,” Steve whispers, watching as Eddie fights to keep his eyes locked onto Steve’s when he sinks back down. or the really self-indulgent fic of steddie fucking to the song closer by NIN.

Destroy The Silence (drummer steve) by @artaxlivs

Steve becomes the drummer for Corroded Coffin and Eddie can't handle his thirst

Trouble and Temptation (series wip, businessman dilf steve) by @heartharps

“Come on, Harrington. I’d lay you badly but I’d lay you gladly.” When Steve looked up, he was glaring, as stern and serious as ever. “Eddie, let me remind you that as far as I'm concerned, nothing has ever happened between us other than of a professional nature.”

Sting, and Other Brainworms (series with switching) by @riality-check

“Do you need to go down, baby?” Eddie gets like this, sometimes. Stuck between overwhelmed and incredibly bored. Steve watches until he remembers that they have a way to fix this. Eddie calls it a hard reset. Steve calls it fucking him until he can’t see straight.

Edification (sadist steve) by aristal

“Alright Munson.” She bares her teeth and grins like a wolf. “Tell the class: what’s your biggest sexual fantasy?” A slow smile creeps into his features, and his dark eyes flash. “Oh, you’re asking the good questions, Wheeler.” He takes another long pull of his joint, dragging the moment out for dramatic effect. Steve doesn’t care. He wants to know the answer. He needs to know. Eventually, Eddie blows out the smoke, eyes a little hazy as he grins at the ceiling. “I’ve always liked the idea of being slapped around and choked in someone’s car.”

In My Boxers, Half Stoned (dom bottom Steve) by eddywow

"You can," Eddie said, almost sounding like he was nodding along to his words. The image was too pure for Steve. "You could say anything you want to me and I'd- I think I'd be into it. Because I saw your pics and like, I know your face isn't in them but- but I really like them. Is it okay that I liked them?"

Insatiable (public, skirts, cages) by @cheshiredogao3

When their club ritual is rudely interrupted, Steve and Eddie make a point of proving their bond—rather publicly.

Done Deal (series with switching) by @morningberriesao3

Steve Harrington doesn't have any money with him, so he offers to pay Eddie Munson some other way.

Lovebite (sub vampire eddie) by hellcore

It shouldn’t feel so good, being tasted.

* The next few don't have the tag but in my opinion they have dom Steve vibes and I want to include them here (:

Cyclical (wip, time loop fic, rimming, switching, lots of smut with plot) by @cuips-not-cute

steve keeps finding himself back in the boathouse where everything started, wrapped up in the arms of a boy who can’t stop dying. he's desperate to rewrite the timeline, trying everything he can think of to fix it. including falling in love.

Dirty Words by @morningberriesao3

Steve gives Eddie a lesson on dirty talk, but things start to get carried away.

Memorize My Number, That's Why I Got A Phone (phone sex) by queerontilmorning

while on tour with Corroded Coffin, Eddie makes an important phone call to Steve.

My Right Hand Man (spanking, kink discovery) by @entanglednow

In which movie night takes an unexpected turn, and it's surprisingly easy to just let it happen.

Shot Right Through (pierced eddie) by @entanglednow

Steve overhears a conversation between Eddie and Robin, and then spends a few weeks trying to think of anything else.

Pleased To Meet You (demon steve) by midnightdrive

Eddie accidentally summons a demon who is bound to fulfill his every wish. He, somehow, gets more than he had bargained for.

[noodle-is-unstable]

Left Breathless

All of my writing is completely Gender Neutral Reader. There is no reference to gendered body parts (Imaging a Ken Doll if you will). Due to this I use more vague language, and nothing is as specific or specified. Please be advised this writing style isn't for everyone and it is okay to skip.

Ft ~ Toji Fushigiro x GN!Reader

Kink ~ Choking/Erotic Asphixiation

Synopsis ~ Toji thinks you talk too much. In reality you just love how you look with his hand as a collar.

Content Warning ~ 18+, Smut, choking, air restriction, fingering, penetration, raw sex, cumming on back. Idk Adult Content.

2.8K Words, I don't proof read

“We should sneak out of here” Toji whispered into your ear.

“You’re the one that agreed to this.” You chuckled but truthfully you were seething.  There you were, on a double date, sat across from Shiu and his latest fling.  It wouldn’t have been bad if it was a normal double date but Shiu and his date were basically making out across from you.

“I’ll never do it again, promise.” Toji kissed your cheek, trying to drag your attention away from the PDA.  That was a lie though because he said this every time but somehow you’d always end up on a double date again.

“Shiu uses a lot of tongue.” You commented, both disgusted and fascinated.  “Alright, let me go pay and we can head out.” You whisper back to him.

“Wait, Shiu said he’d pay.  Wouldn’t be here otherwise.” Tojis brows furrowed.

“I know.” You smirk, holding up a black card.  “Swiped his card earlier.  I think our handler owes us a nice bottle for the night after subjecting us to this.” Your smile was devilish.

“God I love you.” Toji’s scarred lips turned up before you winked and skipped off.  You went to the bar side of the restaurant.  It wasn’t your usual scene, after all there were no fights happening.  Soft music played, the bar had backlight shelves and bottles to the roof.  Boujee.  Not as nice as the places Shiu takes clients but he was definitely trying to show off.  Hesitantly you took a seat and waited for the bartender to notice you.

“What can I get for you?” He walked over, cleaning a glass.  This whole thing felt foreign.

“Bottle of scotch, anything $300-$500, aged at least 10 years.” You ramble off.  Truthfully you just wanted to run Shiu’s card up a little.  Cheap wine and spirits were fine by you.

“Any notes you prefer?” The bartenders seemed more cheery at your expensive order.

“Musical.” You chuckle to yourself.  “I don’t care, dealer's choice.” You shrug.  The bartender nodded and started examining the shelves.

“Buy you a drink?” A man sat down beside you.  He had on a full suit with a loosened tie, unremarkable at best.

“Not if you know what's good for you.” You remark, turning your attention anywhere but him.

“Come on, one drink can’t hurt.” The man urged.  Not taking no for an answer, another red flag.

“Oh but I promise it will.” You sigh.  This was no longer amusing and the bartender was taking too long.

“One drink, nothing more, nothing less.” The man began to lean in more.  

“How about much less.” Your eyes flicked to the man, dark and warning.  He didn’t take the hint as he flagged down the other bartender and began to order.  This is why you hated places like this.  How long does it take to grab a bottle?  But there he was examining each one like it mattered.

“Drink up.” The man slid a glass towards you.  Why was there orange peel in it?  Why would you pay for a drink to have scraps in it?  Why didn’t it come with the orange at least.

“Didn’t agree to the drink.” You went to slide it back when an arm snaked over your shoulders.  Bad move.  The glass in your hand collided with his face, breaking his nose and most likely causing lacerations.  Glass shattered everywhere as people began to scream and panic.

“You need to learn to keep your hands to yourself.” Your foot collided with the man's ribs, cracking underneath the impact.  “If someone doesn’t say yes, that means no.” You reached over the bar to pour literal salt into his wounds.  “And another-” You were suddenly over familiar, broad and muscular shoulders.

“Shouldn’t touch what isn't yours.” Toji barked at the screaming man before he started dragging you away.  As you were being dragged off your eyes met your handlers.  Disappointed but not shocked.  You threw his card back at him, hitting him in the forehead.  At least you had some fun and entertainment tonight.

“I ever tell you how hot you are when you’re crazy?” Toji asked, placing you in the passenger seat of the car.

“Sometimes, but you aren’t much for words.” You bit your lip, thinking for a moment.  “Why don't you show me instead?” You could see his eyes darken as he started the car.  The ride was quiet.  Toji’s hand on your thigh, squeezing every now and then as he tries to focus on getting home.  He wanted to speed, to rip through the backroads but he knew if he got pulled over things would only take longer.  Shiu was spamming you with messages about having to pay people off, and not being able to take you anywhere but you could only focus on the man beside you.  The only man you had eyes for.

The instant Toji put the car in park and you were unbuckled, you were being dragged over the middle control, through the driver's door.  He has to save precious seconds to savor you oh so sooner.  You couldn't help but giggle as he threw you over his shoulder, slapping your ass.  He moved at an inhuman pace to unlock the door and rush you to the bedroom.  He threw you on the bed, making you bounce slightly as he looked you over, hungry and needy.

“So tell me why you assaulted him.” Toji purred, crawling on top of you.  Toji was a possessive man, not a jealous one but a possessive one.  He didn’t need to be jealous, he knew you only had eyes from him, but he loved to claim you as his.

“He tried to buy me a drink and didn’t take no for an answer.” You bit your lip.  His eyes looked over your every feature like it was the first time again.

“And why did you say no?” Toji gently kissed your jawline, eyes never leaving yours as he patiently waited for the words he craved.

“Because I’m yours.” With those simple words Toji could have sworn he almost came.  Such a simple phrase but filled with so much love.  His weight pinned you down as he began to bite and suck at your neck.  Leaving marks, HIS mark.  You couldn’t help but moan as he sucked on the spot just below your ear.

“Just one more time babe, whose are you?” His voice came out almost desperate, holding your face to look at him with both hands.

“I am yours Toji.” You could see the hearts in his eyes as he looked at you.

“And I’m all yours.” Toji purred, his scared lips connecting with yours.  For as rough as he seemed, Toji was actually very soft and gentle, especially when it came to you.  He pressed himself into your leg, grinding and begging for friction as you kissed.  His lips became needier.  Moving faster, choosing this kiss over breathing.  Parting his lips his tongue flicked at your lips, begging to be let in.  You eagerly opened up, inviting him in.  Your tongues swirled together, fighting for dominance, a fight you always let Toji win.  He tasted peppery, but with a slight sweet note like strawberry.  It was your favorite flavor in this world.  It was only when both your lungs were burning you pulled away from the searing kiss.  A spit strand still connects you both as you panted, needy and desperate.

Toji grabbed the hem of your shirt and began to pull it off.  You happily sat up, allowing him to remove your shirt before doing the same to his.  It was a sight you’d never tire of.  Like he was crafted from marble, a Greek god made for you.  Toji was no better, licking his lips as his eyes examined your bare chest.  

“Gunna do something or just stare?” You breathed out, feeling a little too observed under his sharp gaze.

“You talk too much.” Tojis lips found yours again.  His teeth bit down on your bottom lip, sucking and pulling at it as he continued to rut into your thigh.  His cock was so hard it was bruising.  You couldn't help but to reach down and grab it through his pants.  The grunt that Toji let out was like music to your ears.  He was panting into your mouth and humping your hand all the while.  It was only when you gave him a squeeze he pulled back and moved your hand away.

“Toji.” Your brows furrowed with a pout.

“Not yet babe.” Toji groaned as he adjusted his member.  He began to leave sloppy kisses down your neck, shoulder, collar bone, until he was level with your chest.  Lolling out his tongue he began to lick all over until he hit your nipple.  With a soft gasp from you, he latched on.  Sucking, flicking his tongue and gently nibbling.  His hand moved to knead the flesh around your other one.  He loved the soft whimpers and gasps you let out, squirming under his touch but his heavy body kept you pinned.  

“Toji, please.” You whined, hands lacing through his raven locks.  A sharp bite came down before he released all together.

“I told you, you talk too much.” Tojis hand moved to your throat, squeezing it lightly.  You bit your lip in excitement.  This wasn't the first time Toji had choked you, in fact you often begged him to.  The almost high feeling you got from being choked was euphoric.  Your eyes immediately started to roll back as Toji applied pressure, but as soon as it came it went.

“Toji.” You pouted, desperately trying to push his hand back into you.

“Eyes on me.  If you can’t keep your eyes open and on me, you're not getting choked.” Toji’s voice was demanding.  This had two purposes, to ensure you were still coherent and conscious as well as the fact Toji loved eye contact.  You desperately nod, begging for the restrictive sensation to return.  A deep chuckle escaped Toji before he obliged, squeezing down on your throat.  You fought to keep your eyes open, on him.  The feeling was just too good.  Your head felt light, like you were floating, it was hard to swallow and only shallow breaths could escape you.  Even so, you desperately keeped your eye focused on your boyfriend.

Toji lifted his body off of yours, making sure not to remove his hand from your neck.  His other hand began to undo your pants.  You helped him, lifting your hips, as he slid both your pants and underwear off in one swift motion.  Once your pesky clothes were out of the way he returned to his place, hovering over your chest, body between your thighs.  Placing two of his digits in his mouth he coated them in a thick layer of spit.  His lips went to your untouched nipple, giving it the same treatment as your other one.  It was his other hand you were focused on through.  The way it slid between your thighs, straight to your entrance.  His fingers circled it, coating it in his spit to lube it.  Such small, teasing circles, barely hovering over it.

“P-pl.” Was all you could choke out.  A pitiful begging attempt under the grip Toji had on you.  He knew what you wanted though, and he was more than happy to oblige.  One thick finger slipped in, setting an agonizingly slow pace.  His mouth was still sucking and nipping at your chest, sure to leave his mark there too.  His finger curled up into you, causing you to gasp, barely any oxygen reaching your lungs.  Then his second finger slid in.  Toji’s fingers were thick, only two was enough to cause a stretching sensation.  It was the way he spread and curled them inside of you that had you moaning under bated breaths though.  Your eyes never left his, as breathy mewls spilled from your lips.  His tongue flicking on your nipple as he stared into you had you fighting to keep your eyes open.

“To-ji.” You choked out.  He knew what you wanted, what you were begging for.

“Cum for me then.” Toji growled, biting down on your chest as he hooked his fingers into you.  You couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling back as your orgasm washed over you.  Gasping for air as your body pulsated around Toji’s fingers.  His grip on your throat loosened, oxygen returning to your lungs as a headrush appeared.  Your body felt like it was floating on nothing.  

“Look at me.” Toji urged you softly, wanting to make sure you were still coherent.  As you gasped, your half lidded eyes went back to him.

“More.” Was all you could pant out.  His deep laughter filled the room.

“So needy.  Roll over.” Toji instructed you.  It was like instinct, his command making your body move.  You flipped to your stomach, face in the mattress and ass in the air.  You could feel movement and the sound of his pants hitting the floor.  His dripping tip tapping on your ass.

“Ready?” Toji asked, moving to tap his tip on your entrance.  Spit and precum mix together as he waits for your response.

“Please Toji, please fuck me.” You mumble, face half in the mattress.  Toji didn’t move though.  You moved your head more to look at him and when your eyes met his you realized what he wanted.  Eyes on him.  No words were needed as he began to push his tip in.  It was no surprise that Toji was huge, but even after all this time it was still astonishing.  Even with prep he’d stretch you out on him.  Slow, small thrusts.  Slowly inching his way into you until his hips were flush with your ass.  

“First things first.” Toji hisses through gritted teeth.  You were just too tight, too warm and too wet.  His small piece of paradise inside of you.  Toji leaned over top of you, his weight deepening the arch in your back before his arm hooked around your neck.  Your neck sat in the crook of his elbow, being squeezed between his bicep and forearm.  Everytime he flexed it limited your airflow more.  A dumb, fucked out smile sat on your lips as he angled your head to look at him.

“Blink twice if you're not ready, three times if you are.” Toji kissed your cheek.  Glossy, dazed, eyes that he couldn’t help but want looking at him.  Through wet lashes, you blinked three times.  A low rumble escaped him before he pulled out almost completely, hips snapping back into you all at once.  Rough, fast, and desperate.  Toji was setting a relentless pace, your ass rippling every time his hips reconnected with you.  His bicep flexed with every thrust, giving you small waves of oxygen.  Drool fell from your lips, swallowing was too hard.  Toji’s thick tip pounded into your sweet spot with every thrust, sure to bruise your insides.  Toji’s tongue licked at your falling spit as he continued at his animalistic pace.  High pitched whines squeaked out, tears began to well in your eyes.  It was too much, too good, so intoxicating and euphoric.  The thick knot forming deep in your core was almost painful.  You needed to release, you needed to cum.  All you could do was give Toji pleading, glossy eyes and begging whines.  Toji knew that look and could feel how you were consticting his cock.

“Fuck, C-cum for me babe, cum on my cock.” Toji grunted between thrusts, chasing his own release.  Your tongue fell out of your mouth as your eyes rolled back.  For only a moment you saw white and your ears rang as you came, and hard.  Toji’s hold on your neck was quickly dropped, hands moving to your ass to fuck you impossibly faster through your high.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Toji chanted with every thrust, fighting the urge to cum, wanting to feel you milk his cock for just a moment more.  He couldn’t hold out though.  Toji pulled out, fisting his cock until hot cum coated your back.  Thick and so much, he painted your back white with his mark.  Somehow Toji seemed more breathless than you were.

“Shit, you okay, can you look at me?” Toji asked, nothing but care in his voice.  His hand came down to move the hair out of your face and gently stroke your cheek.  Your body didn’t want to move, your eyes seemed to be the only thing that could.  You looked up to him, face half in the mattress still.  Fluttering blinks were all you could manage, fighting to keep your eyes open for him.

“Come on, I’ll clean you up.” Toji chuckled, hearts in his eyes as he looked down at you.  Gently, he scooped you up, kissing the top of your head.

About the Kink: Choking/Erotic Asphyxiation is the intentional restriction of oxygen for the sake of sexual arousal. This can be done through strangulation (chocking, ligature, or other), volatile substances and/or chest compressions

How to Practice the Kink Safely:

With any kink it's important to have a safe word, action and sound. The action is in case it's not possible to be verbal. The sound is incase it's not possible to make words or move. Pick something easy to remember and wouldn't come up naturally. Eg. Red, 3 fast taps, 3 repeating grunts

This is a dangerous kink and should not be practiced alone. 250-1,000 people pass per year in the USA alone from this kink. It is vital safety signals are put into place and the one doing the choking is constantly checking in to ensure the one being choked is conscious and coherent. If at any point the one being choked seems unresponsive or incoherent, the restriction of oxygen should immediately stop. When choking pressure should be applied to the side of the neck, the veins and arteries, rather than the trachea itself. Pressure can be added to the trachea to enhance this kink but it should be noted that damage such as bruising can occur. If using ligature (like a belt, collar, rope, etc.) make sure there is a knife or scissors nearby in care of emergency. It is also recommended that the one choking knows what to so incase consciousness is lost. CPR can be beneficial for this kink as well.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hear me out.

Ken with someone who has stretch marks/scars and beauty marks here and there and Ken is just fascinated with them

Ken would oh most defiantly be fascinated by the things you’ve been conditioned to believe were unappealing.

So whenever you found Ken just stare at you, naturally you thought he was staring at your many ‘imperfections.’ Completely unaware of the lovesick look within his eyes as he looks you over with a dopey smile.

He can’t help it! I mean look at you! Your so handsome/beautiful/gorgeous/charming and so much more! Ken just wants to admire the masterpiece before him and engrave each and every aspect to memory.

Your beauty marks

Your acne/and or acne scaring

Your stretch marks/ and or scars

Ken will memorise it all because to him, they’re the most beautiful aspects of your person. According to Ken, these things that you don’t like about yourself, served their purpose in enhancing your beauty even more.

Also in Ken’s eyes, having these things made you the most unique person he’s ever met outside of BarbieLand where everyone were basically dolls.

Mini Drabble;

‘Ken…’

‘Hmmm?’

‘Am I pretty/handsome/Beautiful?’

At your question Ken was immediately on his feet and in front of you with worry laced in his cerulean eyes. ‘Of course you are! I’m looking at the most dashing/handsome/pretty/beautiful person I’ve ever meet.’ He truthfully admits, his hands holding your face as his thumbs caressed the places where your beauty marks/acne scarring were. Ken’s voice barely above a whisper as he asked, ‘What’s brought this up sweetheart? You know how I feel about you, is today one of those bad days you’ve told me about?’

You didn’t say anything but that was enough confirmation for Ken as he then said, ‘welp you know what that means.’ But before you could ask what he meant by that, Ken had already begun to pepper kisses against your cheeks whilst his hands kept your face in place, just so it’d be easier for him to love on every aspect of your face with his ‘healing kisses’ or as he calls them whenever you got like this.

Ken genuinely didn’t know why you were forced to feel bad or ashamed of your stretch marks, of your acne/ acne scaring and your beauty marks, and if he ever met the very people who made you feel like that, he’s sooo going to beach them off for making his favourite person upset about their natural body. Your a god/deity/goddess in the blondes eyes, Ken has even made songs about every facet of your body and how much he loves them, along with a long winded verse where he’d wish you loved all these things about yourself as much as he does. However Ken was blessed with an never ending amount of love to give out, so he was more then content to love on them for the both of you, and he’ll continue to love the parts you didn’t like until you learnt to love them yourself; No matter how long that may take, Ken was a patient man who just wants you to be confident in your own skin and see what he was blessed to see.

Even when you do suffer from bad days, Ken will tell you how much he loved your stretch marks or lightning strikes as he likes to call them because of how cool he found your stretch marks.

He’d call your acne/ acne scars ‘twinkle twinkle stars.’ It’s a bonus if any of your acne scars do resemble a star or something similar as he’s absently tracing over them with the pads of his fingers. (I’d like to call my acne and acne scarring stars cuz it makes me feel overall better about them)

He’d write a whole arse essay on why your beauty mark is called a beauty mark for a reason before it descends into ramblings on pretty he found it and how how it’s a distinct feature that helps him distinguish you from the rest in a positive way because of how much he loved your differences compared to others.

Again Ken just thinks your unique, one of a kind for having such things as stretch marks, acne and or acne scarring, or beauty marks.

[tala-bez-i]

At first sight Chapter Ten

(m!reader x Bonten!Haruchiyo Sanzu)

Fluff/slash/reader is male/cursing/BontenTimeline/drugs and alcohol mentioned/violence/blood/death

All characters that appeared in the Tokyo Revengers manga and anime belong to Ken Wakui.

Words: 3965

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You squeezed your eyes tighter and moved your head slightly. You felt warm, much warmer than before when you slept. You had bits and pieces of information that you hadn't slept alone that night, so that would explain the extra source of heat... But... 

You lifted your eyelids slightly and the first thing you saw was a mop of pink hair on your chest and that's when it hit you... Sanzu required you to hold onto your half of the bed while he used you as an extra pillow. His arm was slung around your waist and one leg was slung over your hip. 

You had never slept in the same bed like this before, and at first you didn't know what to think about it. Just the sight of it made your heart start beating faster, but when you looked at Sanzu's still sleeping face, it started beating even faster. 

You've seen Haru sleeping peacefully before, but never so close and you tried at all costs to calm your racing heart so that its rhythm wouldn't wake the man. 

You gently moved your hand and held him closer to you. At first you stroked his strong arm with your thumb, but after a while you moved your hand to the back of his head so you could stroke his hair. 

You saw his eyes move under his closed eyelids and it took all your might to stop yourself from touching his long and thick eyelashes that you loved so much. You let go, but instead stroked the scar at the corner of his mouth. 

“Do that again and I'll bite your finger off.” Sanzu said quietly, woken up from his sleep. 

"Sorry. I could not hold back." You responded just as quietly and placed a hand on his shoulder, the other still stroking his hair. 

“You're on my half of the bed. I guess I told you to stick to yours, hmm?” 

“I'm on my half. You used me as an extra pillow.” You replied in amusement and Sanzu opened his eyes, lifting his head slightly and looking around. 

“Shit…” He muttered and placed his head back on your chest. 

“I guess it's not just my bed that's so comfortable, huh?” You brushed the hair from his forehead and placed a tender kiss on it. 

“Don't get too used to it. Yesterday was a unique situation. My clothes were completely soaked and I had no intention of parading down the hall in my underwear.” 

You kissed his forehead again and felt his slender fingers start to wander along your side and you smiled. 

“Maybe I should ask Rindou to push you under the leaky gutters more often?” You thought out loud to tease him and Sanzu lifted his head to look at you. There was a coldness in his eyes. 

“Just try it and I swear you'll regret it.” 

You laughed and stroked his cheek, to which Sanzu closed his eyes and pressed his face into your hand, demanding more caresses. 

“Will you add this to the bill? I wonder what you will come up with for my penance.” 

“I'm still thinking about it. Do not rush me." He replied without opening his eyes. “Who knew you had so much gentleness in you, Y/n…” 

“Who would have thought you would crave it so much?” You said softly and brought your face closer to his. Your hot breath fanned across his cheek. 

“When did I say that I wanted this?” He asked, opening his eyes and lightly pushing your hand away. 

“And when did you say you didn't want it?” You looked into his eyes, waiting for his response, but he moved away from you and got up from the bed. 

“Not a word to anyone, do we understand each other, Y/n?” 

"Sure thing." You sighed and looked at the ceiling. “Your clothes probably dried overnight, but…” You heard your closet open and you sat up. Haruchiyo rummaged through your clothes before pulling out familiar looking suit and shirt. “One question, Haru... Since when do you keep your clothes in my closet?” 

The man pulled on his pants and started taking a fresh shirt off the hanger. He looked at you innocently and shrugged slightly. The upper half of his lean body was built stronger because Sanzu relied on the strength of his arms when fighting. He looked beautiful as usual. 

“I brought some a long time ago, just in case. As you can see, it came in handy.” He started buttoning his shirt and a question popped into your head. 

“If you had clean and dry clothes… Then why did you decide to stay overnight?” 

Haru's hands stopped at the last button, and his cheeks flushed delicately. He ignored your question and turned his back to you as he continued to dress. 

“Haruchiyo?” You said his name as softly as you could at that moment, but the pink-haired man entered the bathroom, so you got up from the bed and followed him. Sanzu quickly combed his hair, took his things and, still ignoring you, walked to the door of your bedroom. You didn't try to stop him. 

"Haru, why did you stay overnight?" You asked again, but the man turned the key, opened the door, and before leaving, he said over his shoulder. 

“I'll send breakfast to your room.” And he left, leaving you without answers and with thousands of new questions in your head. 

Why did you stay? 

You sat on the bed and rested your head on your hand, thinking about the whole situation. You knew with your entire being that Haru wanted closeness and tenderness.

You saw it... His body's reactions to your touch. Why did he have to deny it when you asked? Was it so hard for him to accept what he felt in his heart? You were ready to give him everything, all of yourself, and you weren't afraid to show it.  

You blinked a few times as it dawned on you. Haruchiyo was afraid. What did he fear? You both felt attracted to women as well, so was it possible that he was afraid that if he let you into his heart, you would eventually fall in love with a woman and leave him? 

You shook your head violently and nervously went to the window to open the curtains. 

This is ridiculous! You would never replace Sanzu with anyone else. You clung to him as if your life depended on it... Mostly it did, but... You confessed your love to him and gave him your heart... 

“Fuck, make up your mind…” You said quietly, looking out the window. 

“Who made you so angry that early?” You heard a well-known female voice and turned around. 

A petite woman stood in your doorway, smiling slightly. In her hands she held a tray with a cup of freshly brewed coffee and a plate with scrambled eggs and a slice of bread. The small breakfast you often ate in the hideout. 

“Rosie?” You were surprised, but you were glad that it was her who came and not someone else. 

The woman set the tray on a low table in front of the small sofa and returned to the door to close it. You looked over and she walked up to you and took your hand. 

"Eat breakfast. Sanzu insisted on bringing it to you." Her voice was calm and filled with understanding and tenderness. 

You obeyed her and allowed yourself to be led to the sofa where you sat together. You took a sip of your coffee and grimaced slightly. 

“Too strong?” 

“No. Is good." You replied quietly and put the cup down. "It is not it." 

“He seemed irritated.” She said, stroking your back. “But he was like a lost child. What happened?" 

You scooped some scrambled eggs onto your fork and started eating slowly. Did Sanzu send Rosie because he knew about your relationship? 

“Haru spent the night with me. Nothing happened.” You added quickly, giving her a convincing look. “We just shared a bed…” 

“As you have done before. I see." She smiled slightly and nodded. “So, that's why I smelled lavender from him.” 

You swallowed your food and looked at her, raising one eyebrow. "Really? What if he took my oil and just took a bath?” 

Rosie's look asked whether you were serious at this moment. “I know the smell of your sheets, Y/n. It's not just your bath oils that smell like lavender. And for Haruchiyo to smell like that after so many hours after a regular bath, he would have to pour at least half of the bottle into the bathtub.” 

You shrugged, knowing the woman was right. You were so used to the smell of lavender in your bedroom that you didn't pay much attention to it. Hanma once teased you with questions about where you lock your wife, that your bedroom doesn't smell like it belonged to a man. It smelled... Just not as intense as others... 

“Give him time to get used to the affection.” She stroked your hair and hugged your shoulder lightly. “His words and actions can hurt, but if he didn't want your love, he would have made it clear to you in a completely different way.” 

“For example, he would beat me or even shoot me.” You muttered as you finished eating the breakfast she brought. 

“Or he would chop you up with his katana.” Rosie added calmly and you looked at her resentfully. 

“Thank you, Rosie. I knew you would remind me about it.” 

"Do not be angry. Everyone has noticed that he hasn’t carried it around with you by his side for a long time.” 

“He carried... Maybe not as often as before, but he does.” You lifted one finger and reached for your coffee cup again with other hand. “Do you think they suspect something?” 

“They think more that Sanzu trusts you and doesn't feel the need to use the katana…” 

“Or he just doesn't see a good enough opportunity to use it yet.” You tensed and nodded. “I have a feeling that once they get their hands on Sato, he'll reach for his sword. I would like to see that." 

“Whatever you prefer.” Rosie grimaced slightly and looked away. “How are you doing with the murdered prostitutes case? The girls liked the boy you brought.” She laughed, slightly covering her mouth with her hand. “He's adorable.” 

“Yata?” You were surprised and looked at the still giggling woman. "Seriously?" 

“Oh, come on, Y/n. Of course Yata-chan.” 

"One sec." You frowned and set down your empty cup. “You don't mean to tell me that all the prostitutes under this roof call him Yata-chan. Please say no.” 

Rosie blushed slightly and started giggling harder. You haven't seen her in this mood for a long time. It was nice. 

“Not just prostitutes.” She looked at you with sparkling eyes. “Hanma too. He bumped into him yesterday and if it weren't for Miki, he wouldn't stop teasing the poor guy." 

At that moment, you wished you were around. You were starting to like the boy, but looking at Hanma while he was teasing someone... It wasn't that bad at all. Especially when he was teasing Kisaki. In such moments, he began to resemble his old self and the mark of belonging to one of the most dangerous syndicates in all of Japan was no longer visible on him. 

"Shame on you." Rosie nudged your shoulder, knowing full well what you were thinking about, and you shrugged, putting on an innocent face. 

“Well, we've made progress. Thanks to Miyato, I started working with Kakucho and Mochi.” 

“That's good, and? Do you have any suspects yet?” 

“Besides Akira, we have two more. Mochi checked them…” You looked at the woman carefully. “While he's looking for one of them's girlfriend, I'm supposed to find the guy who works with the other one. And here comes the problem. We have his nickname, but we don't know his real name or what he looks like. It's true that Takeomi mentioned that his surname is Uchiyama, but..." 

“Ryousuke Uchiyama.” She said making a worried face. 

You blinked a few times in surprise. “Do you know all the people involved in prostitution, Rosie?” 

“No… But I worked for Nagano and I met Uchiyama.” She looked to the side and rubbed one arm with her small hand. 

“Did he hurt you?” You asked quietly, recognizing the gesture. Despite her stature, Rosie was a strong woman and she showed any weakness only in front of you. 

"It was a long time ago. I don't want to go back to that.” She said quietly and looked at you. “You have to be careful with him. He's a very dangerous guy. When in danger, he will stop at nothing.” 

"I see." You felt anger rising in you and you already knew that you would not give up searching for this man. “Do you know where I can find him?” 

Rosie thought for a moment and nodded slightly. "I think so. If he hasn't changed his address, you won't have a problem finding him.” She walked over to your desk and wrote down the address on a piece of paper. “You have to watch out for his wife too. She's a mean bitch who doesn't care who her husband hurts. At least until he raises a hand on her.” 

You walked up to her and hugged her tightly. You kissed the top of her head and inhaled the scent of her perfume. 

“Thank you, Rosie. You are a walking treasure trove of knowledge.” 

“Not at all…” She laughed weakly, wrapping her arms around your waist, returning the gesture. “If you need help…” 

"I know. I'll let you know." You kissed the top of her head again and the woman pulled away slightly, placed her hands on your face and smiled. 

“You have a specific approach to us prostitutes.” 

"Meaning?" You asked, feeling your face start to get warm. 

“You're good to me, you're good to Miki and a few other girls, but you treat the rest like air. Why?" 

You bit the inside of your cheek lightly and your eyes wandered around the room for a while until they finally landed on the face of the petite woman standing in front of you. 

"It's complicated." 

“Is this about your past?” She asked in a soft voice, caressing your cheeks. “Is this about your mother?” 

“About my mother, sisters, aunts... It doesn't matter. You and these few girls behave differently from the rest. You don't push yourself into our beds and you don't try to stuff your hands down our pants. I can talk to you about life, not just about sexual positions.” 

Rosie's smile widened and her hands moved from your face to your chest. "Thank you. On my behalf and on behalf of the rest that you like.” 

"Stop it." You became slightly confused and the woman laughed. 

She walked to the table and picked up a tray with empty dishes and headed for the door. “I have a small request…” 

You looked at her expectantly. 

“Give Takeomi the address of your café. He promised to take me on a date, and I haven't been to your place in a long time. I miss Ana and Yumi's baking.” 

The corner of your mouth turned up slightly and you placed your hands on your hips. “You can consider it done.” 

She nodded and left your room, closing the door gently behind her. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------You drove following the directions of your navigation device. For some reason you thought that someone working for Nagano would live in some shabby neighborhood, but currently the neighborhood was actually quite nice. Maybe a little poorer than the one you lived in, but along the way you passed at least two green parks and several smaller playgrounds for children. 

Was it possible for Uchiyama to have a child? If so, you already felt sorry for them. 

You drove almost to the end of the street and stopped the car in the designated place. The house was two-story and well-kept, and from the garden there was a purple flowering Chinese wisteria. You were surprised because you really thought the guy would live in some shithole. 

You watched the building for a moment, wondering whether to check if anyone was home or wait in the car a little longer. You had to make sure that Uchiyama actually lived here, but from where you were you couldn't see the nameplate that was definitely hanging by the gate. 

When you were about to open the car door, you noticed that the entrance gate began to open automatically and an approaching, elegant car appeared in the side mirror. It looked like someone was coming home. 

You watched a car pass you and noticed that the driver was a man who was probably around 40 years old. He drove through the open gate into the driveway leading to the carport and you heard the car door slam. You wished you could see the man in full, but at least you got to see his profile, so you considered it a small success. 

*Knock, knock, knock!* 

You jumped when someone knocked on the passenger side window and you looked in that direction with wide eyes. Angry with yourself for letting someone surprise you. An elderly woman was peering in through the glass and you let out the breath you were holding. You rolled down your window and smiled slightly at her. 

“Yes, ma'am.” You tried to sound as polite as possible, and you must have succeeded, because the woman smiled back. 

"Good afternoon, sir. I'm Ai Hiramatsu. After all, they sent someone here to do something about this terrible family, right?” She said and you immediately sensed that she thought you were someone completely different than you were. “Can I ask you to come talk to me and have a cup of tea?” 

"Talk?..." 

“About the Uchiyamas, of course.” The woman explained and you tought it probably wasn't a stupid idea. If this woman knew more about your goal and wanted to share the information herself, who were you to say no? 

“Of course, ma'am. I'd love to talk to you.” You got out of the car and followed the nice old lady to her house, which was across from the Uchiyamas house. 

You went inside and politely took off your shoes, placing them neatly in front of the low step and then putting on the slippers the woman gave you. “Thank you, I’m detective Kiyozumi. I didn't introduce myself earlier.” You bowed to her, and the woman returned the same before leading you to the small kitchen. You had no intention of giving her your real name. 

You sat down at a small table and watched as the woman started making tea. 

“I'm so glad you came, detective. Oh!” She looked at you. “For a long time, together with our neighbors, we have been asking the police to take care of this family, but they found that they could do nothing. But they sent someone anyway.” 

“I am here and believe me, ma’am, I will take care of the Uchiyama family case.” You smiled slightly and thanked for the tea the woman gave you. “Just tell me about the problem, please.” 

The woman nodded and sat down across from you. You took out your notebook and pen, waiting for her to start talking. If she thought you were someone from the police... You felt weird about it, but you decided not to dissuade Mrs. Hiramatsu. 

“Good... Yes, of course.” She took a deep breath to gather her thoughts and nodded. “They moved into this house about three years ago. He, she and her baby. Oh, what a sweet little boy he was. A beautiful boy.” You raised an eyebrow when the woman used the past tense to refer to the child. 

"Was?" 

"Yes. Ryousuke Uchiyama abused this child all the time. Many times, the little one walked around the yard covered in bruises, because, you know... When that monster beat him, they didn't take him to kindergarten so that no one would find out. But we, the neighbors, knew. His mother tried to keep him at home until the bruises disappeared, but the little boy always found a way to escape.” The woman shook her head, making a sad face. “I thought Haruka would wise up and leave her husband with little Yuuta, but no.” Her wrinkled face turned red with anger and indignation. “You know, detective, what she did instead?” 

Your eyes widened at how angry Mrs. Uchiyama was making her feel. “No, ma'am... Please tell me.” 

“Oh! She gave up her rights to the boy and gave him to an orphanage! She did it a year ago! The boy had barely turned 4 at the time!” She shook her fist at the house of her hated neighbors. “How can you do that? This is beyond human comprehension! That's not how a mother behaves!” 

You didn't know what to say. On the one hand, it's probably good that the child will no longer be abused by his parents, but on the other... He certainly feels completely unloved and there is no telling what kind of family he will end up with if someone decides to adopt him... 

“And she could reconnect with Yuuta's father. Maybe he would take him. Or maybe he was a bad person too?” The old woman mumbled and drank her tea. “Because, you know, Ryousuke is her second husband. She once said that the first one also abused her and the child, but this time she didn't do any better. But instead of saving herself and the child, she decided to get rid of her son from home and stay with her husband.” She grabbed your hand and squeezed it tightly. “The worst thing about it all is that she doesn't seem sad that the boy is no longer with her. On the contrary, it was as if she came back to life.” 

“I understand, Mrs. Hiramatsu, but... If there hasn't been a child there for a year, then....” 

“Then what's the problem?” She interrupted you and nodded. “The Uchiyamas bring various young women and girls into their home. I have seen them leave home more than once in a sorry state. Something bad is happening there. Sometimes I don't see them leaving the house on their own, but maybe that's because I'm not sitting in front of the window all the time... And once I saw a red spot on the collar of his shirt.” She lowered her voice to almost a whisper and leaned over the table. “It was blood. Yes, yes, I know what I'm saying. I worked as a nurse, and I know what dried blood looks like.” 

“If the police showed up before, they should have found something…” You frowned and the woman grabbed her mug with both hands. 

“They found nothing. This vile woman cleans everything. But I know what I know. They always have the most bags on garbage collection day. Who knows what's in them...” She looked at the window and pointed at it. “Oh! Please, take a look! They are just leaving the house.” 

You turned your head and through the window you saw the tall, slender man you saw earlier, and by his side was a slim, short pretty woman with long black hair, Haruka Uchiyama. 

Your heart sank and you felt all the blood drain from your face. You knew this woman, but you didn't want to believe your eyes. Your mind must have been playing tricks on you. It certainly was, because the woman who was just getting into the car was Emiko Miura. Your ex-fiancee. 

<PREVIOUS/NEXT>

[iwanttofuckereh69]

To properly celebrate @hornyimpulsivity's birthday i decided to inflict emotional damage onto everyone with both an illustration and a fic. Happy birthday bestie <333

Fandom: Tokyo Revengers

Pairing: Draken (Ryuguji Ken) x Hanma Shuji

Rating: T

Word count: 1k

Content warnings: angst, breakup, mentions of smut

Summary: It's been twelve years since Tenjiku. Draken and Hanma met again when they both were at their lowest. One thing led to another and what was supposed to be a one time thing, started to become more scary than any of them was willing to admit. Now Draken is struggling to tell Shuji the truth. He is after all more afraid of losing him than anything else.  

A/N: Hello, this is a short scene pulled out from a bigger thing so probably not everything makes perfect sense without the context. Artwork by me, and the story is a group effort between me and @hornyimpulsivity. Enjoy! PS. dialogues are written with "-" instead of quotes marks because im polish and stubborn

Shuji didn't laugh. He didn't mock the Dragon for being a pussy that’s whining over a few burned photos. He didn't say anything borderline insulting, trying to be funny, like he used to. Instead there was warmth. A bit of kindness the Dragon desperately needed. A compassion he wasn't expecting. And surprisingly wise words he should probably consider actually listening to. The Reaper was right, placing his hand on top of the Dragon's heart, pointing to right where it hurt. Where all those memories still were, just like he said, as vivid as ever, despite the photos that captured them being gone. Those weren’t just frames, still images frozen in time, fading on the crumbled pieces of paper. He could still hear all their voices. Their naive laughter. Their youthful playfulness. The smell of the beach in the midst of July, the smell of gasoline and the roar of engines. The sweet perfume Emma used to wear. And even Shuji was there somewhere amongst all the others, an annoying brat from a long time ago, with ugly ass hair and lame leopard print on his bike. The same Shuji that could punch the living shit out of Draken when nobody else dared to come close to him. The same one that now held him, keeping him from falling apart.

Draken smiled softly, looking up at him, in those beautiful eyes of his, glistening as if they were pure, liquid gold. It wasn't the first time Draken couldn't tell what twisted emotions filled those eyes of his. But it wasn't the first time either, when he felt nonetheless utterly fascinated by them. And it sure as hell wasn't the first time he just couldn't stop looking.

He wanted to tell him so many things. Make so many stupid, cringey confessions. But before he managed to open his mouth, his lips were already occupied. The kiss was sudden... and yet, funny enough, expected. So many times Ryuguji caught Shuji's curious eyes wandering across his smile. So many times he himself shyly gazed at his lips. He was scared of this longing, he was scared of the feeling it brought along.

He didn't protest, however. Quite the contrary. He entangled his fingers into Shuji's hair, pulling him closer, as close as he could possibly get, angry at the stupid clothes that kept their skin from touching.

Draken lost his balance and leaned over the wall, pushing Shuji against it, kissing him as if it was their last kiss.

(It was.)

It was different from all the kisses they shared so far. This time it wasn't about fucking, it wasn't about satisfying that primal, filthy desire. It was much more meaningful. Much more scary. Because they shouldn't be kissing like that. They shouldn’t be feeling like that. They were never meant to… And yet they found each other somehow. 

- That's gonna be a memory I'm going to hold onto most desperately - he whispered into his lips, holding Shuji's face close, not ready to open his eyes, not ready to confess that it was probably their last kiss. - The one i will probably cherish the most - he added.

He wasn’t ready to let go of him, scared that Shuji would disappear. 

- I'm not just a memory yet, my Dragon. - Hanma whispered softly and smiled right into Draken's lips, before allowing them to connect once again. 

One of Shuji's palms quickly ended up on the side of Draken's neck, caressing it with fondness and occasionally sliding his thumb across his jaw and cheek. The other one eventually found its way to the Dragon's hip. Soon, Hanma's curious fingers were wandering up Draken's body, reaching his waist, and to his backside, squeezing his buttcheek in quite a playfull and weirdly affectionate manner. 

Not yet. But soon. 

Draken’s lips trembled when he felt Shuji kissing him again so impatiently it hurt. It hurt somewhere inside his chest, somewhere where his heart was, his heart that was beating so fast it seemed like it was about to tear apart his chest. 

Ryuguji gasped, feeling his touch. Impatient as ever and yet… intimate. Affectionate. Tender. Shuji’s palms knew Dragon’s body so well, as if he had touched him a million times before. And maybe he did. In this life, or another. He just seemed to know all the curves, all the crevices. Like a lover would. 

Is this what they became? The unintended lovers? That was supposed to be a one time thing. A brief encounter, a chase after bodily pleasure, nothing more. But it became more. Yet Draken couldn’t even pinpoint exactly when that happened. It just stopped being brief somewhere along the way. It stopped being simple and just horny. 

They were supposed to be just friends with benefits. Buddies that fuck sometimes. It’s not like Hanma would ever even consider them to be something more than that, right? Right…? 

And yet, here was Kenny, struggling to say whatever he was about to say out loud, as if those few words would break his own heart. As if those would break Shuji’s heart as well. That was probably the most horrific of things. He cared about that pretty boy, obviously he didn’t want to hurt him. The situation just… got out of hand. But he couldn’t let it continue either, it wasn’t fair. 

- Shuji - he whispered softly, trying to stop all those tender, affectionate kisses the Reaper was placing all over Ryuguji’s lips. He moved back and gazed at him as Shuji took a big draw of a half burned cigarette. Damn he was pretty. Inside and out. He deserved the fucking world. But Draken couldn’t give it to him. 

- Hm…? 

- I… I got back together with him - he said, so quietly that only his Reaper could hear it. He wished he didn’t say it at all. There was that tricky, malicious part of his brain that was telling him to not say a word. But it wasn’t fucking fair. 

[sweaterkittensahoy]

throwing your lover over your shoulder, carrying them over to bed

your lover pinning your arms above your head, telling you to stay quiet

accidentally bumping noses

Pairing: Crubbles 🤓

Harry is seated with Douglass and Blakely and Brady and Hambone as they watch Ken and the other ground crew fire off the flare guns for impromptu fireworks as they toast–yet again–the end of the war in Europe. Harry smiles when he looks at Ken and sees Rosie coming up next to him, placing a hand on his back and whispering something to Ken that makes him beam. 

"Holy shit, is Rosie finally going for it?" Everett says. 

Harry grins and sips his drink. "He said he was gonna the moment he was sure he wasn't going back up."

"Surprised he's not going to the Pacific," Brady says. He tucks a cough against his arm, and Hambone rubs his back. "I'm all right," he says. 

Harry watches the way Hambone leans closer, the shifting light from the flares emphasizing the scar on his cheek. He and Brady have only been back a couple of weeks, and Harry's glad to see them look and sound a little better every day. They're still underweight, but Brady's cough is nearly done, and Hambone's face is filling out. 

"He considered it," Harry says to Brady. "But I think Jack told him he'd shoot him in the foot himself if that's what it took to make him go home." 

Brady grins, and Hambone chuckles. Bubbles walks up from wherever he's been and give Harry a sharp look. 

"What?" Harry asks. 

Bubbles steps between Hambone and Dougie and holds out his hand. "Come on," he says.

Harry stands, a little wobbly on his feet from his drinks. "Where you been?" he asks. 

"I'll show you," Bubbles says with a huge grin. "I've got a surprise."

"What is it?" Harry asks because now the booze is going straight to his head. 

"It's a surprise, Croz," Brady says. "Like ending up in France."

"Hey, we didn't land there," Harry replies, which makes everyone laugh.

Bubbles pulls at his hand. "Come on," he says. "Don't wait up, fellas," he calls over his shoulder. 

"That's not the surprise!" Dougie shouts after them. 

Harry doesn't ask Bubbles where they're going. He's just happy to walk next to him, hand-in-hand. He likes the feel of the scar on Bubbles's palm against his own, the way it's unmistakable physical proof that Bubbles made it back. He wonders if that's how Brady feels about Hambone's scar. He knows they were separated for awhile after the crash because Hambone had had to go into the hospital.

"You're thinking," Bubbles says, leaning in and kissing Harry's cheek. "We're celebrating. You can't be thinking."

"Guess you'll have to distract me," Harry replies, expecting Bubbles to kiss him. 

Bubbles gives him a gleeful look, then leans down. He picks Harry up in a fireman's carry and laughs when Harry flails in shock. 

"Joey!" Harry yells. He laughs as Bubbles starts to double-time it and gets two handfuls of Bubbles's shirt so he isn't shaken quite so aggressively. 

Harry can't really see where they're going, but it doesn't take them much longer to get there. Bubbles pushes a door open with his hip and walks inside, then dips down to let Harry gets his feet under him. 

"Thinking now?" Bubbles asks, pink-cheeked from exertion and softly glowing in the light of an Army Lantern with its blackout shade half-closed. 

Harry shakes his head as he looks around. They're in a little shed he doesn't recognize from the inside, but there's boxes of rations against the back wall, so it's something the kitchen uses for storage. There's a straw tick mattress on the floor, the sweet smell of freshly cut grass coming from it. There's three blankets and a stack of Army-issue pillows. On top of the lantern, there's a cup filled with flowers, and next to it are two army cups and a big jug of water. 

"Joey," Harry breathes out. "How long have you been working on this?" 

"On and off," Joey replies, coming up behind Harry and pushing him lightly. "I wanted to have something ready to celebrate the end of the war."

Harry turns and stares at him, certain Joey can see the tears in his eyes. "I didn't–"

"Hush up," Joey says quietly. "I'm doing this for you because I wanted to surprise you. You can surprise me back some other time, okay?"

Harry immediately gets three ideas. He gives Joey a nod, and Joey kisses him. 

"Come on," Joey says, giving Harry a tiny shove. "Let's enjoy ourselves."

Harry nods and immediately walks to the bed and sits down. He looks up at Joey, reaching out to touch his calves as Joey strips out of his tie and blouse and undershirt. Harry reaches up and tugs at Joey's belt until Joey slowly sinks down to the floor on his knees. 

Harry kisses Joey and opens his belt. He huffs when Joey pushes his hands off his belt and tries to put them back. 

"Nope," Joey says and grabs Harry's hands in his own. He gives them a squeeze, then leans in, pushing against Harry so Harry will lie back on the mattress, then drags their joined hands up until they're over Harry's head. 

"Stay put, please," Joey says. "I'll get us both naked and take care of you." 

"I want to take care of you," Harry replies, shifting to try and break Joey's hold. Joey barely moves, but Harry manages to bump their faces together, and they both laugh. 

"You always take care of me," Joey says. "From the first day I met you to the day I came back to just here right now." 

Harry's breath catches in his chest. The first day they met, they were both trying for pilot. Harry had been recovering from the worst airsickness of his life so far, and Joey had come stumbling from the test room looking ready to collapse. Harry had handed him his club soda and two saltines. 

"Payne," Bubbles had said, nibbling a saltine.

"Crosby," Harry had replied. 

The first day Joey had walked back into Harry's life, it'd been nine days after Munster. He'd literally walked back to base. They'd gone down over the Channel, Joey had told Harry as Harry had carefully fed him hot soup because his left arm was broken and his right arm had a deep cut from his palm to just under his elbow that still needed to stay bandaged. His last memory was the coldness of the water as he scrambled from the fort. He'd woken up four days later in a tiny doctor's office on the English side, he'd said as Joey tucked his blanket more firmly around him. And three days before he'd showed up, he'd looked at a map and started walking. 

And now, here, hidden in this literal love nest Joey's built for them, for him, Harry squints and looks at the way Joey's gaze takes in his face. "What am I doing right now to take care of you?" he asks. 

Joey lays down so they're chest to chest. "You're here," he says. "That's all." 

Harry lets his hands go slack and takes a deep breath to feel Joey shift against him. He thinks of how lucky all of them are to be here today. Joey walking back to Harry. Dougie and Ev holding each other up for the whole war. Hambone and Brady surviving the Stalag. Rosie and Ken making it through a horrible wait. "We're here," he says and touches Joey's cheek. "We made it." 

"We made it," Joey agrees and kisses him.

[persephone11110]

The Princess And The Rooster Chapter 01

Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings:anger, abandonment, physical abuse, 1 year age gap( reader is older/Bradley), scars

- - -

Santa Monica, Los Angeles - 1990

Big brown eyes stared wide as a f-14 flies above her head, blowing her hair everywhere. She jumps with happiness as she watches her Uncle Ice fly pass them with a bright smile on his face.

“Percy, come here sweetheart” her dad commands softly, eyeing how happy she looks when she’s on base. “You like that,kiddo?”

“Mhm, papa like how fast they go, I want to do that too”

“You could Percy, you could get up there and fly like me and Uncle Ice”

“Yeah I could papa, Bradley and I would be like you guys” she said happily holding a toy plane in the air, flying it as the other pilots fly pass her.

“If your'e anything like me Percy Kate, you’ll fly high like I do, hopefully not as crazy as me” Maverick winked at his daughter. Throwing her up in the air and kissing her. He knew right away, his daughter, would fly like him, enjoying seeing the sun and clouds.

“I love you Percy”

“I love you too papa”, she then ambushed him with kisses.

—

Miramar, San Diego California - 2019

Percy stood over top her aunt and uncle gravestones, praying to find sanctuary in the hell she’s in right now. It’s been almost 20 years, Bradley and her haven’t talked yet—not a call or text, she can’t call a number that doesn’t have someone on the other side, a number that's no longer in service.

A man that obviously doesn’t want to be called. Doesn’t want to be connected to his past, a woman who once yearned for him now hates his guts.

Percy stops a teardrop from flying down her face. Her daughter yelling her name, “mama are you okay?”, Olympia asks her as if she understands what's going on. As if she understood the rift that's been in their family for so long. Olympia stands quietly next to her mom like she knew the silence was needed for a moment.

So much pain caused by the two men she loved.

“Mama, mama” she said again–looking at her for answers, waiting for her questions to be answered.

“I’m sorry Ollie I was just thinking back to sad times, but being with you makes me happy” Percy shakes herself as if she’s shaking the sadness off and absorbing all her daughter’s happiness.

“Okay, mama love you” Ollie says with her head tilted up to the sky.

“Love you too sweetie”

Her daughter is careful of the scar on her cheek as Percy lifts her up in the air. A bruise that couldn’t been hidden with makeup.

There hadn’t been a day when Percy didn’t wear makeup outside the house or inside the house, trying her damnest to not allow Ollie to see her father anger released on to her mother.

Now she walks around bruised, free. Except one.

She’s lying there’s a bruise right below her left eye that leads to her jawline, a bruise that the Navy thinks came from when she crashed down in mission, not from her ex-husband Nolan jagged knife.

A scar that led to her being called scar-face by her ex-husband. Being stared at in public—watching little kids hold on tight on to their parents, people whispering in-front of her as if she was invisible.

A scar that her daughter kisses every morning and night.

She was pulled out of her thoughts as Penny, the owner of the Hard deck approached her. Her dad’s on and off girlfriend.

“Hey kiddo, whatcha want today” she asked, pulling her thumb to thousands of alcohol choices.

“Hmm, I think I’ll take a water” Percy chuckled at Penny raised eyebrows.

“What?” she threw her hands up playfully.

“It’s not every day you see a Navy pilot just drinking water” Penny replied with a wink.

“Well Penny, I have a kid I’d like to go home too tonight”

“I understand kid, bye” Penny put it on the table, grabbing the money and leaving to attend to another patron.

- -

She watched a group of pilots in-front of her, some she knew, some she didn’t.

Hangman, an arrogant Texas Ken, his buddy Coyote they act like Yin&Yang together, the only man to calm the loudmouth Texas man. And her favorite Phoenix Trace a woman who’s not to toyed with a woman who could beat you senseless with one hand tied her back.

Fanboy and Payback, two new faces.

Percy listened to their conversation.

“Bagman here is the only pilot here with one confirmed kill”

“Hangman” his smile was forced, his shiny-ass teeth were purely white. Of course. Ken doll.

“Aren’t you forgetting someone, Phoenix the great Ambush?”, a mysterious man piped into the conversation.

A woman with a lot of souls collected.

“As in legendary Commander Ambush Mitchell, the daughter of Maverick Mitchell?” Percy really wished naval aviators would stop doing that–only associating her with her father, never thinking about her and her greatness. But then again, she did join the navy, but at what cost?

“ The only woman and pilot to have 13 confirmed kills” the man supplies the group with the information.

“Seems like she has a fan” Hangman teased, his southern accent thick and smooth as butter.

“Something you don’t have Bagman”

“Who are you?” Phoenix asks the mysterious man.

“Bob Floyd” his confidence spark gone.

“As in my new back-seater” Phoenix says happily.

“I guess so” Bob replies, still quiet.

Percy smiles at the group, little did they know something big was ahead , something like death.

“Bradshaw! Is that you?” Phoenix yells over the music.

Phoenix was mistaken, no way was that man Bradley Bradshaw. The man she hasn’t heard from in seventeen years,

Percy ducked her head, keeping herself out of sight—doing what she does best, being invisible.

Percy slightly turned her head as she covered by the plethora of brown uniforms, watching with her mouth wide open.

There he was Bradley“Rooster” Bradshaw, her childhood best friend, she looks at the clock begging for time to go faster. Percy smile drops, it seemed to her that Bradley had a better a life here, better than her.

Phoenix leaned into his shoulder“You hear about Ambush coming in this mission?”

“Ambush that soon?, rumor says she was taking a break from her nasty divorce”, More known aviators started to appear in the bar with the evening approaching. She was recovering from the nasty hits but sure, a nasty divorce sounds better.

“The hell kind of mission is this?”

“A mission that needs the best of the best for it” Phoenix replied, “you should be asking who’s going to teach us, everyone here is the best there is, who the hell is going to teach us?”

“Any of them Ambush” Coyote asks Phoenix.

“Nope, but it’s possible the woman is too good to be left off” Phoenix said, everyone knew the reason Ambush’s kill count was so high was because she never leaves till everyone dead, even going as far as sacrificing her life for it. The woman hides in the clouds waiting to make the kill.

Everyone knew she’s too good to be true.

The bar silent, too silent, she eyed at who and why. A short man with brunette hair had the floor.

A man she knew. God damn it, dad.

Penny makes her way to Pete Mitchell with card in her hand. “It’s been declined Pete” He takes out cash out his wallet– just why did he think money was going to cover the entire bar?, who knows her father like to dream and apparently this is one of them.

“I’ll come back tomorrow with the cash” Maverick responded. Penny walks towards the rope that held the bell, she rings it twice—signaling the crowd to chant “Overboard”.

“Really?”, Maverick asks her. The woman smiles innocently, chuckling before waving goodbye to him. As Coyote and Hangman lift him out the bar and tossing him on his ass.

She nodded her head Penny approving of the ‘punishment’, Percy going home to a grumpy old man.

A grumpy old man who doesn’t listen.

She hears a song that too memorized, a song she spent her childhood belting out to with Bradley and dad, Uncle Goose. The first song she sang aloud too, with her dad- dancing around as they sang like the family they were once.

Great Balls Of Fire.

It’s like Bradley felt eyes staring at him ,and she hurriedly turn her head back, backing out the door.

Sharing one more glance at Bradley, she watched the pilots around Bradley singing and dancing, oh how Percy wished that was them again.

A girl can wish, but will the wish actually come true?

She looked one more time before making it into her car. Driving away from her problems, something that starting to become a real problem for her.

Percy sighed tomorrow is going to be long day.

[st4rbwrry]

STREETS ☆ draken ryuguji.

☆ warnings: drabble, fem!reader, lowercase intended, black coded, car sex, draken is possessive, mention of dv, smoking, draken has a savior complex, fighting, dirty talk, minors aren’t welcomed!

“i like the way you fuck me.”

you remember the way he looked at you after you said that, puffing a cloud of smoke past his lips with sullen eyes, eyeing the way you chew at your gold named necklace with desire in your eyes. you’re never the best when high. a very dangerous, immensely horny woman. he’s only fucked you once, two months ago after graduation on the hood of this very car at midnight. it was during a brief breakup from your ex that he hates more than anything in this world. that same asshole he rescued you from today after you called him crying about how he had put his hands on you.

draken loathed men who abused women. he was already halfway out his house once he heard you crying, speeding down the streets with anger, his fist gripping the leather steering wheel hard. when he pulled up, seeing your cute face stained with tears and a bruise on your eye with a bleeding cut on your lip . . . he lost it. finding the fucker and beating the daylights out of him, so badly he bled everywhere. at one point you had to pull him off of him, screaming for him to stop before he killed him. he wanted to. he was going to. he’d go to jail for you. but you didn’t want that.

draken grabbed your arm and took you with him, taking you to his place and tending to your wounds , and after his gentle touches and kisses to your temple, you crawled up into a ball and cried, wondering why you were so dumb in love with someone who treated you like shit. draken scolds you multiple times for calling yourself names. he grabs a beanie from his drawer and puts it over your head so your hair shields the bruise on your face, putting a face mask on to cover the scar. he decides to take your mind off it by driving around for the rest of the day. getting something to eat, watching a movie at the drive-in, and then parking his car on a high hill that overlooked the city of japan while the two of you smoked.

now here you were, the passenger seat slid all the way back as you grip at the headrest with your shorts pulled to your knees and the white tank top you cut really short now lifted above your perky tits that brush against chair. body jolting as you moan, the silver hoop earrings dangling by your cheek as draken fucked you from behind, his hot hand clammy around the back of your neck. you listen to him grunt and huff as he snaps his sharp hips against the flesh of your ass, smacking your skin and listening to his echo in the black hellcat.

“take that shit, baby,” draken breathes on your ear, jaw slacked as he moaned after you tightened your cunt around him, crying out ken the harder he drilled his dick into you, thick and filling you up so well, so much better than your ex. the leather squeaks with every movement you two make, draken cursing under his breath as you start fucking him back, his big body arched over you, his head touching the roof.

his black hair is fallen around his bandaged face, your ex getting maybe one or two hits out of it. his tongue sticks out, knuckles turning white as he squeezes your ass between his fingers, dragging you back on his cock as you whine and whimper, eyes crossing. he pulls his shirt up as he thrusts, bringing the fabric to his mouth to hold with his teeth, looking back at him with your mouth open. your right leg is pulled up to rest on the center console, slapping and screaming onto the chair as he switches his hips, hitting that sweet spot deep inside you, gasping and trembling.

his chest is near your back yet again, feeling his chain drag against your arched spine, slowing his pace to sloppily kiss up your back, tongue gliding on your flushed skin as he mumbles the word mine. you shakily cry out one his hand reaches between the two of you, massaging your puffy clit, soaking his fingers in the process. you hum, throwing your head back on his shoulder and stretching your arm between your thighs and grabbing as his balls you play with, smiling drunkenly as he breathily drags out moans of fuckin’ shit, baby.

“ken, m’gonna cum,” you pout, desperately grinding back on him, both of you still moving your hands on each other to chase that high.

“cum on it, then,” his mouths at your neck, pressing his forehead to yours and circling his hips until you do.

he hugs you close, forearm wrapped around your midsection as your thighs shake and you cum, reciting his name past your dewy lips, honey voice pulling him to his own high, fighting the urge to stay inside by pulling out and nutting on your back in thick ropes of white. he’s silent when he cums other than his heavy breathing, grabbing your chin and shoving his tongue in your mouth.

he has a few blankets in his trunk for you, cleaning you up with wipes before letting you fall asleep beside him, turning off the car and staying up the whole night, unable to sleep, too many thoughts lingering on his mind. he’s laying back in the drivers seat as he watches your body rise and fall peacefully, stroking the bruise on your face with his jaw clenched, chest heavy. when the sun rises, and the sky is pink and orange, draken finds himself driving towards your exes house.

you wake up after you feel that familiar turn down the road, sitting up and eyeing him as you rub your eyes, your body cramping from the position your laid in, also from previous activities.

“ken, wha—”

“pack your shit, ima be out here,” he bluntly demands, reaching over you inside the glove compartment, your eyes widening as he pulls out a gun. he gives you one last glare, raising his brows as a signal for you to hurry up. you bite your lip, nodding before stepping out of the car the same time he does.

draken leans against his car with his gun tucked into his pants behind his back, watching you walk towards the door and pull out your key, disappearing inside, making sure to leave the door open so he can see everything. he hears shouting from your ex who peaks out the door, his face different shades of purple and bloated up from draken’s recent attack. the man gulps as he sees him pull the gun from his back and hold it to his side, shooting him a dirty glare, wishing he’d try it. draken didn’t mind blowing his kneecap.

it only takes you fifteen minutes to grab whatever belonged to you and run out the house with a duffel bag and a pink suitcase, brushing right past your abusive piece of shit boyfriend draken never understood what you saw in him. you smile at draken, trying not to cry as he opens the door for you, taking your luggage as you sit inside. he bends to peak his head into the window, kissing you in front of him.

“you’re living with me. i’ll keep you safe. i’ll love you like you needa be loved.”

© 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞.

[mikeysbabygirl]

Ken Wakui could have created healthy, mentally stable characters honestly, ones that would communicate with each other easily but he chose the most toxic of them all.

So what ? You gonna tell me I'm wrong ?

He chose to create Mikey, who clearly has that soul crushing overwhelming guilt, the one that makes him think he doesn't even deserve to live, that everyone always ends up dying or wanting to kill him. And instead of coming to you, and having a decent conversation with you about his secret anxiety, that guy would just manipulate you until you're none but a puppet on his string.

-" You're my fucking Achilles heel, 'kay ? Tell me how the hell am I supposed to let m'baby go out without me ?"

The scars of falling in his lures wouldn't even be visible for you, as he brings you closer to him and holds you like there's no tomorrow, far away from anyone's eyes, he was still him, Manjiro.

-" I know I'm fucked up, but you'll stay, hm ?"

-" You'll stay with ya man, wontcha, love ?"

You gonna tell me I'm wrong?

He created Rindou, who feels like the strongest, the smartest, and anything else until Ran's in the equation. Don't get me wrong, he loves his brother from the bottom of his heart, yet alongside all that love and admiration, he had never felt... Enough.

Ran's flirty nature around you would get to him, and instead of coming to you and talking about his insecurities like a big strong man, this guy would just have you understand how much you need him.

-" Rin', please, please, please... " You whine, hands on his broad shoulders as you tried to ride his length, whilst he has his arms behind his head and watched you wearily.

-" Uh uh, baby, your man's not gonna help ya. Wanna see how this tight lil pussy can take my cock, show me, please ?"

And though his erection would be painfully hard, watching tears gathering in your lashes line so beautifully as you make a mess of yourself on him, he would smirk slyly, waiting until you collapse on him and beg him to fucking ruin you.

-" See? Who's gonna fuck you like me ?" He has you in a mating press, slamming his cock deep inside you until he has you crying his name. " No one's gonna treat my princess better than I can. Shit, babe, easy o'mme " he hisses, grinning discreetly with how your walls wrapped him in.

I'm deadly serious, these men are the most fucked up, don't even get me started with SANZU FUCKING HARUCHIYO.

Sanzu deserves a whole psychology book of his own, but a whole new pathology would be created the day he meets you. Yes at first he wouldn't even glance your way twice, too busy with Mikey anyway. But just the way you randomly smile whenever his eyes cross yours, and didn't even flinched the first time seeing him without a mask, just how you rushed to ask about him seeing some blood ( that wasn't even his ) on his shirt... That's a game changer.

Indeed because no one ever truly cared about him, not even his own family, so when you, a perfect stranger whom eyes shine with admiration whenever he walks in the room, show up in his life...

-" Haru, that's folly and you know it. " You argue, your wrists starting to hurt from all the rubbing against the ties . And you swore at some time, you've seen some genuine humanity flicker behind his blueish hues, one that was soon replaced by something more animalistic once he presses his forehead against yours.

-" I know, babes, I know... " His voice came in a hoarse whisper, making you swallow as his other hand roam higher up your bare thigh. "But I told you. Talk about that out of town job once again and I'll have ya tied to my bed, haven't I now ?"

Contrary to what you would think, his touches and kisses on your skin are feathery, light, pressing open mouth kisses on the skin between your thighs.

-" Shhh, easy, easy... swear I'm gonna take good care 'f my pretty girl, y'trust me ? Why the hell would i hurt the best fucking thing to ever happen t'me ?"

I could go like this all night, but I have to get up early tomorrow. If I need to end up on a quick note, I'll talk about Draken.

Draken and his insecurity of not being good enough, of losing you like he did to Emma. Understand, you're so nice, so smart and kind, so pretty, and what does he has for himself, if not sharp edges, rough manners and inappropriate actions ?

But Draken loves you, and he truly never felt that way, never had a girl, or anyone else steal his mind from gang fights and motorcycles like you do, but you do. And his ways are... Controversial.

-" Ain't ya gonna take all of me, pretty ?"

He gives slow, deep thrusts though he's only dying to fasten that pace, but he can't have you scared of his own strength, not yet.

His hands gently apply deep pressing on your waist, whilst his kisses lingering on your neck make you fall deep in his games.

-" I... " You hesitate, and he knows that, but as soon as he starts slowing down his pace a little too much, he has you crying for him. " Yes ! Yes, Ken, gotta take it... Gonna take your kids !"

There, he has you exactly where he wants you.

-" What a good girl I found myself, ain't ya ? Look at this pretty lil pussy tryna take all of my fucking cum, you gonna make me a daddy ? Stay with me whatever, yeah baby ?"

Yes, nothing better than breeding to make sure you would never leave him, right ?

Tsk, and people think these guys are healthy lol.

I'm not saying it's a bad thing.

[souyaszn]

BIG SHOT! ⁂ [ ryūguji ken ]

18+ content! minor, ageless and blank blogs will be blocked if they interact with this work.

﹡dibble in this n’ drabble in that!

﹡synopsis: strength kink came thru and went bonkers man. i’m so sorry that i’m not sorry.

﹡wc: 927 words.

﹡includes: use of the word cunt. strength kink. dubcon if u squint. mating press. creampies. implicit mentions of squirting. implicit mention of multiple orgasms. one mention of bruising. overall messy sex. man folds you like a pretzel what did you expect to happen?

﹡xtra! this was gonna be titled baki bc i was listening to the trippie redd song, also thought of how baki and ken are both dense as shit, but then big shot by guapdad 4000 played and i said YEAAAAAAAAAAA. and then i got carried away. y’all know how my head dizzies when ken’s involved. btw i started off strong and then my brain started farting so if it sucks near the end have mercy 😮‍💨

﹡tags! @nozomiasl @asilentshout @kawargi @poutsies @kontentious

thinking about the way ken naturally manhandles you. has no idea that the strength and height he’s been using to his advantage since he was twelve years old subconsciously shows its face in the bedroom. on you.

he s w e a r s he’s being gentle when your legs are flailing and your feet hit his chest, a reflex reaction of your body trying to accommodate to him and his heavy cock that tries (correction: trying, succeeding) to bully its way through your walls by its fat tip. just wants to feel the bite of heaven your pussy holds again, craves the sensation of all of his length dragging and pulsing along the velvet grip that massages his cock that’s a guarantee with every stroke, but you won’t. let. him. not even when he asks you nicely, when a low “open up, baby. wanna fuck you properly,” is met with a resistant whine of, “s’too big, ken. can’t take it.”

an answer that’s just… absurd to him. you’ve taken him hundreds, no thousands (maybe millions) of times before, now’s no different.

intends to prove that to you when his thumb touches the glistening skin on your clit, rubbing pressured circles into the nub that has you keening, your pussy weeping and your feet kicking him again, the heel pressing on the pec covering his heart, pedicured toes brushing against his nipple.

but you’re open, just like he knew you could be, and he’s sliding in deeper— every inch of him welcomed, celebrated even with a pulse of wet that has his jaw clenching so hard the teeth grind— so close to bottoming out until you wail, lower limbs flailing blindly until they catch him in the abdomen, right where his scar was. the strength of your kick revives a pain ken thought was long dead, curses tumbling out from his lips one after the other.

strike three.

strong ken whose arms hook beneath the back of your knees to gently redirect your legs up to your chest in a mating press, has your ankles centimeters away from dangling under your ears as earrings. ken who doesn’t realize that his entire body and all of its weight—rippling and tensing muscles flush against you—now looms over you intimidatingly, caging you between him and the mattress, rendering you incapable of evading him.

ken who, with newfound albeit manufactured freedom, bottoms out in seconds, nestling himself to the peak of your pussy and laying a figurative flag there. leaves it there when he draws back, pulling out until he’s almost completely out of your addictive cunt; and shifts its placement whenever he drives back into you, consistently moving the goalpost with every thrust.

ken who, when you cry out, is there to swallow your moans and steal your breath in sloppy clashes of lips, teeth and tongue. your muffled whimpers only give him energy to keep fucking you stupid like this; which is why he only pulls away when he’s out of breath and panting. just makes it easier for him to reset, using those precious seconds to return the spit he took from you during your kisses, combined with his to rest on the back of your tongue in a fat glob of white that disappears as quickly as it landed when you swallow it eagerly, tongue lolling out as if to beg for more.

ken, who stretches your body and your pussy at the same time, cotton candy pink enclosed around his girth like a glove. whose balls slap a percussion beat against your twitching clit whenever he pistons his hips, sop and squelch of your cunt clearly audible regardless of how he’s making you wear your feet as earmuffs.

ken, who knocks into your cervix like it’s in his way and he wants it to move, cock imposing as it curves its way up to, beyond and away from that gummy spot that has your toenails scratching the headboard, and right up to your womb.

ken who couldn’t give a single, solitary fuck about the slick sliding down his shaft and onto his balls (and the sheets), the wetness that’s polishing the inside of your thighs and covering your ass, or the film of white cream that decorates his shaft. he’d already made you cum more times than you can count and squirt for half of that. what he’s focused on now is him, chasing his high as he’s pounding you into the mattress, practically molding the shape of your body into the sheets.

you’re a whole new person by then, begging in soprano squeals for him to go deeper, fuck you harder, stuff you full. ken, who by default, becomes your genie the way he’s exceeding your wishes, promising to do just as you ask and then does that when he thrusts himself all the way up to the hilt. leaves no spot untouched as heaps of his cum coats your walls in hot white streaks, slight grind of his hips sending it right back up your womb the same time you clamp down on him, greedily swallowing the load he’s graciously feeding you, moaning delirious thanks and praises all the while.

ryuguji ken, whose struck by short term memory loss the next day when he sees you limping, genuinely stunned when he offers to eat you out and you all but run out of his arms, complaining that you’re sore and swollen.

was he really that rough with you last night?

[swifty-fox]

get the hell away from me w/ curtken 🧍🏻‍♂️

Curt's hair was growing, the swirl at the top of his forehead just beginning to flop down into his eyes; past army regulation but nobody cared for those things as strongly anymore.

Safe under the arch of Escape Kit's wing, Ken brushes the brown locks back under his cap, fingernails blunt and dark with engine grease.

"Get t'hell away from me," Curt says good-naturedly, knocking Ken's hand away before capturing it for a kiss to his knuckles in the same movement.

Ken smiles at him, and steps into the cage of the short man's body, puffed up and important in his flight suit. Their voices were pitched low enough and muffled by the fog, unable to be heard by anyone beyond the quiets of murmurs. Two men chatting away their nerves before a mission.

"You need it cut."

" 'M a wild thing sweetheart, army just managed to leash me for a bit with the promise of two hundred bucks a month and the chance to drop a present right on Hitler's bald head."

"How's that going for you." Ken asks warmly, smooths a hand over the lapel of Curt's suit.

"Ah, think this might be the one Kenny. Might end the war here and now." The false bravado in Curts eyes hide a much younger man's fear.

"Yeah? And what will you do after you end the whole thing."

"Why, take you on a date a 'course," Curt fingers the neck of Ken's fatigues, and draws out the chain where his wedding dangled like an eucharistic accusation of all the things Ken had chosen to forget while on this foggy airstrip. "Assumin' the missus'll give her blessing."

Ken frowns at Curt, a sharp sting going through him and he steps back. Curt lets the chain slip off his finger, thunking back against Ken's chest pointedly. He grips the metal band, hiding it from the conversation.

"You're being cruel."

Curt regards him with unreadable heavy-lidded eyes. "Have you told her you're leaving her yet?"

Ken swallows, throat clicking "I'm findin' the words, B."

Curt kisses his teeth, gazing out into the fog and resting his hands on his belt buckle. Hips canted forward, body strong and lithe without an inch of wasted space for muscle.

"It's four words, sweetheart." he holds up a hand adorned with fight-scarred knuckles, counts off from pinky inwards as he speaks "I. Want. A. Divorce."

Ken sighs his upset, but doesn't know what else to say on the matter, hands anchored on his hips and feeling horribly young for all the weight on his shoulders.

Eyes softening, Curt lets out a sigh and sparks his zippo against the end of a cigarette, placing it between his hips crookedly.

"I mean it though. Wanna take you out like I would any girl."

Ken smiles faintly down at the tarmac, "Yeah? Where to?"

"Somewhere nice. With singing girls and fancy fuckin' French food."

"So let's go when you're back from winning the war. Name the date."

Curt scratches his hairline under his cap " 's the date again?"

"August seventeenth."

"Seventeenth eh? Why don't I stop 'round your place tomorrow then? Say, four sharp. Wear your best dress."

The faint smile broadens to something so achingly fond.

"It's a date, Curt."

[kisakunt]

breathe in; ryuguji ken.

draken is good at rolling blunts, you’re good at smoking them.

cw: nsfw minors dni, marijuana, high sex, a good morning scene, uhm like mention of a sex dream, lots of weed, all of the high sex i’ve had has been.. blech so hopefully this ain’t, not proofed, ‘creampie’ i guess, unprotected sex

wc: 2.4k

“Think you were dreaming bout me.” Oh. Oh. That warrants another hit, you think, blunt back up to your lips while his leave you, waiting for you to finish your pull.

tagging @ryugucci & @izukine specifically for being the draken fuckers

Draken almost smells stronger than the weed. His room is dimly lit, sun creeping through the windows, making its way into your eyes past the crack in his blocky black-out curtains. Smoke rolls over your head, grazing your ear as you hear him breathe out.

“Mornin’,” you lean into him, the back of your head resting on his clavicle as you stretch slightly, eyes pointing up to look at the outline of his jaw from under him. You hum a response, fingers stretching up to his face, pinching the air in front of him.

“Could use your words, yknow.” He places the blunt between your pointer finger and your thumb, lingering until you grab onto it. His hand falls to your covered hip once you take it from him, squeezing the skin lightly.

Smoke sets in your eyes as you inhale, sharp and warm in your mouth. You let it ruminate while he introduces himself to you again for the day, touch already inseparable from yours.

“I could. Rather not though,” you loved mornings like this. You found solace in every part of them—the way he always rolls the night before so he wouldn’t wake you up by moving, the slight sheen of sweat that sticks between your back and his chest, how delicate he feels when there’s no one to possibly see.

“You’re an ass, now gimme my blunt back.” His tone is light in comparison to his voice, his arm propping himself up, height clear even while he’s laying down.

He looks good like this— even if he really just looks good all the time— red corneas and hair down all wavy. You hope he thinks you look good, too, and you have to assume he does with the way he holds onto you, drinking you up with every lingering touch.

You turn, face him properly, really look at him, and you let your hand rest on his chest, fingers tracing down the muscles to the scar he’s dawned for over a decade.

“This shit reeks,” you don’t look at him when you say it, all too caught up on the dents in his skin. He catches your attention with his snicker, though, cutting the noise off with a toke.

“Yeah,” the words come out with another laugh and a huff of smoke and your heart swells. “only the best for us.”

You truly believe he means that. Draken is a good boyfriend, he’s benign in a diluted way, acts of service proving as a synonym for sentiment; and he is so goddamn attentive you think he might know you better than you know yourself.

Soon enough, the blunt’s gone, only remnants of a roach he’d save for a later time. You love this, too. When he decides it’s a lazy morning, when he wants to take his time with you and him and nothing else, and you get to watch him work. There’s a specific art to rolling that you adore, especially when it pairs with your boyfriend.

He massages the skin on your thigh while you grind a gram, and you trace the skin of his as he licks the paper dutifully. He’s cracking jokes as he rolls, fingers steady and determined and.. beautiful as he works the blunt. And then it’s ready and it’s baked, and you’re stealing it from him again.

You lose count of your hits, brain fuzzy and warm as you lean back on the bed frame. A giggle passes your lips, fingers loose on the now second blunt of the morning, head tilted up and to the side, neck wide on display. Your boyfriend preoccupies himself with you, leaving boyish kisses along your jugular vein, hands caught on your skin.

“Y’know, you were talkin’ some shit in your sleep,” he starts against your throat, and you can’t help but think about how unfair it is that he can keep moderate composure during his high.

“Oh yeah?” You ask, words tripping over themselves. “Was I telling you to quit your snoring?” His body is impossibly closer to yours now, head dipping down into your suprasternal notch, tongue flat against your skin in a way that stiffens your body just slightly, high relaxedness hardening.

“Think you were dreaming ‘bout me.” Oh. Oh. That warrants another hit, you think, blunt back up to your lips while his leave you, waiting for you to finish your pull.

You’re not sure how long you sat there, inhaled the burn and ignored it until his hand—why do you always forget how big his hands are?— moves to hold the curve of your face, and he’s pulling you towards him as if he was born to do that.

He forces the smoke from you, lips pressed into a confined seal on yours. He guides your mouth open, steals your breath and your high and anything he could want because you let him. Draken stays on you longer than he needs to, the haze of marijuana dissipating under your embrace before it escapes when he finally pulls away, just briefly, to chase after you again.

His free hand encloses over yours, tightening your fingers slightly around the backwoods paper to make sure you don’t drop it, careful to avoid the ember. He breathes the air onto you, in a way that almost feels disrespectful, fanning over your skin. You feel his breath on your upper lip, smell the cannabis on his tongue, taste it on your own and you can’t wrap your high little mind around why it’s so hot but it is.

Your fingers tingle as the weed hits you in another wave; cheeks warm under the intoxication as you still against him, waiting for his next sentence, exhale, move, anything.

“And I gotta ask,” your heartbeat is too fast for your body to be feeling so slow. “was I fucking you right?” You whine against his mouth, weed probably an aid in your neediness. You think you’d be embarrassed if your eyes weren’t so heavy, but they close fully along with any after thought you had when he kisses you with a hard intention. You ought to be embarrassed at the fact you had an audible sex dream at your grown age, but if it gets you here, lips trailing down your chest, thick fingers pulling away at the cotton of your panties, you won’t complain.

Draken knows you, even in a faded state of mind. He takes great pride in perfecting the way you cum, picking and choosing exactly when and how you will. He’s obsessed with the way his name comes out in something damn well similar to prayer, and how you’re loud enough everyone else knows what he’s doing to you. But, there’s something indescribable about the stretch of your cunt when you’re both high, your unwillingness to take him in but your need for him.

“Up,” he mumbles the word into you, again, palm pushing at the back of your thigh, assisting in its raise before he lets you rest it on his shoulder. He doesn’t hesitate, wastes no time to fuck you the way he should— show you how he really does it.

He’s meticulous, thrusts too thought out for his inebriated state. The natural sedative should have been enough to ease him up, slow him down and give you the chance to adjust around him properly. But, he is determined, and when there’s a will with Draken there’s a way. He props himself with one hand, the other still occupied with getting high— and how many vices does this man need?

The mystery is solved in no time. He answers in the way his arm loops under your thigh, the open mouth kiss he leaves on the inside of it after he takes another puff, the repeated slap of his balls against the curve of your ass, the fuzzy grin he grows at the filth coming from your pussy. He’s looking at nothing but you, obsessed with the shine on your head and the crinkle at your eyelids from either the inevitable pain or the drugs.

You’re already overwhelmed. You cover his cock in a slick, reject it almost with the pull of your walls. There’s a cruel magnitude your boyfriend displays when he fucks you, that willful attentiveness showing itself true again. It’s embarrassing, how broken you feel already, how a brief hint at the way he fills you up makes you feel like you were made for his dick.

His view on you momentarily pauses as he shuts his eyes when your hips raise up to meet his, guttural groan choking past his lips.

“Here,” he’s strained, cock hilted right against your cervix, and he hisses at the way you clamp around him. “Fuckin’ loosen up.” He holds the burning blunt to your ajar mouth, stretching his pinky down to tap at the bottom of your chin.

“Close,” of course you listen, it’s hard not to at the tension in his voice, the grit in his teeth, the way he fucking burns. Your lips are probably too wet, they probably ruin the filter and the weed and the perfect roll and you can’t fucking care because his head scrapes the gum of your walls, relentlessly leaves no room for your cunt to slacken.

“Do I gotta tell you to do everything? C’mon, breathe in.”

You’re almost too gone now, eyes bleary from the high and from him. The residual smoke burns your eyes, your deliriousness warms your skin, and he tears you apart. A cough leaves your throat, tufts of smoke passing in short exhales and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look so stupid. Your head falls back on your (his) pillow, hands reaching out in a pathetic attempt to grab him closer or push him away.

“Careful, shit’ll burn ya if you knock my hand wrong.” You whine and for some pathetic reason you really tighten around him at that, clenching onto his cock like you don’t want it to move at all.

“Shit.” He dips his head down, moreso lets it fall, and it finds its home in the crook of your neck, the baseline of your collarbones, any inch of your skin he can get. “Was it—” his hips are harsh on yours, the squeal from your pussy loud as he continues. “did I fuck you like this? You sounded fuckin’ desperate, all cock-dumb in your sleep.”

You’re fucking babbling, sweat forming at the top of your head, his own falling from above you and you think you’re both disgusting.

Everything is groggy, mind moving too slow now at the final hit, breath shallow, and you know you’re not doing as much for him as you could be. You raise a desperate attempt to kiss him, lips falling on the muscle of his bicep.

“Ken,” you really love his name. “Better! You’re better, you’re so good, please.” He does smell stronger than the weed now, taste stronger than the lingering, touch stronger than the fade. And you really need him now, the bubbling of your orgasm almost sobering you up.

“Oh my fucking, God.” The sob is ripped from you, taken from you from him, and it echoes off the walls with the new amplification of the sleazy sounds your cunt makes around him. “‘S too much, fuck.”

He lets you talk to yourself, lets you fall apart, watches you, stares cockily at the arousal that pools around your thighs. Draken thinks you’re cute like this, fucked out and subjectable and willing at his touch.

Your shaky hand trails between you, brushes past his skin before it lands on yours and another moan rips from you at the contact. “Fuck are you doing?” His thrusts turn sporadic, a small attribute to his intoxication that wouldn’t have presented so quickly otherwise. He places the half charred cannabis cigarette to balance between his lips, head angled barely so the ash wouldn’t fall on you.

His large hand swats away at your own, two fingers coming to a euphonious circle on your clit.

“Forget how to use your words?” The jab comes out muffled, rolls of smoke leaving the corner of his mouth in repetition and you wonder how you got so lucky.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You need to widen your vocabulary, study up on how to describe the feeling he brings you, because your flimsy curses aren’t enough of a praise. Ken seems to get the point, though, grinning again, choking on a groan at the increased spasms from your walls, soft of yourself squeezing him impossibly tight.

“Go on, then.” He’s not far behind but he waits for you, analyzes you, ghosts over your clit before applying a rigid pressure. “Cum for me, like you’re s’posed to.” And again, you listen. A desperate hand latches to your mouth, covering a cry, hiding the contortion of your face. Your leg shakes on his shoulder, ankle pushing down on his neck, trying to reel him in, uncaring of the blunt or position or anything but him.

You squirm, climax rising and falling with your quickening breath, his motions still fluid in your sopping cunt. You’re begging for him again, and he’s telling you you have him.

“Need you, need to feel it, wanna feel you inside-,” That tips him over the edge, his hand abruptly leaving your bud to grab the blunt, head ducking down and he kisses you sloppy, tongue lapping at your spit, drinking you in, a noise adjacent to a whine that you only ever hear when he’s high landing in your throat.

Cum seeps in the limited space in you, warm and risky and good. You clench around nothing when he leaves you, holding as much of it in as you can, drops of him mixing with yourself, adorning your legs lightly. You look a damn mess; and the weed creeps back up on you, wearing you down to exhaustion. Your body is worn, legs still stuttered with a short bounce.

“Can’t sleep, yet,” His voice is reassurance, and you watch him take a final hit before he puts the blaze out. He wastes the smoke blowing it in your face, his hands shielding your eyes. “Gotta clean you up. Bed, too.” You nod, lifting to brush over the sweat soaked hair that clings to his tattoo. He smiles at you, teeth and all as he catches his breath, makes sure you have yours, too. There’s no contemptuous joke when he stands, no banter between the two of you as he moves you to the bathroom, just a faded come down between the two of you and the sound of his shower turning on and a playlist you made playing from the terrible speaker on his phone.

You really, really love mornings with him.

[gotham-ruaidh]

rhymes

(set shortly after 06x03 "Temperance")

Claire wordlessly brushed her hair in the candlelight, smiling as Adso wrapped his furry body around the bare skin of her ankles.

“I left your milk downstairs,” she chided. “If you want more, you’ll have to go get it yourself.”

Jamie’s steps thudded on the landing. “Who are ye talking to, Sassenach?”

She glanced up in the mirror to watch him walk into their bedroom, holding two glasses and a bottle of whisky.

“Just Adso. Same as I always do. Tom certainly didn’t take any comfort in it.”

Jamie snorted and set down one glass on her vanity table, poured her a dram, and kissed the crown of her head. “Aye, weel. Ye keep giving him reasons to think ye’re a witch, Claire.”

“I asked him if he thought I was a witch. He said no.”

Jamie sat on the corner of their bed and poured his own dram. “Cannae say I blame him. There was a time when I thought you were one, too.”

She set down her brush and turned on her bench to face him. Drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders.

“I’ve had a lot of memories these past few days. Have you?”

He pulled off his boots, one by one, and neatly set them against the wall. “Aye. No’ just memories of Cranesmuir. And Ardsmuir.”

“No. Of the abbey, and when I repaired your hand.”

He flexed his hand. “I still cannae believe you did all that, even though I’ve the scars to prove it.” He paused, thinking. “I know I had taken the laudanum, before you cut into my hand. And that I had a fever. But I don’t remember any details. I don’t remember the pain – until afterward, anyway. What do you remember?”

She sipped her whisky. “I remember being very focused. I prepared quite a bit. I had done surgeries before, but never on joints that had been so…damaged. And never without ether.”

“And never on your husband.”

She smiled sadly. “No. Especially never on a husband who quite clearly wasn’t interested to keep on living.”

“And yet I did. You brought me back to myself, Claire. I still dinna ken exactly how you did it. I remember rolling around on the floor and you slapping me and me yelling at you.”

“I did what needed to be done,” she said simply. “I was fighting for you.”

He nodded. “Just like I had to fight for you, not too many months later, in Paris.”

She stilled.

“After the duel,” he continued. “After we lost Faith. I knew I didnae deserve your mercy, your forgiveness. But I knew that I wanted a life with you in it, no matter how painful it would be to…to bridge that gap.” He paused, looking down at the carpet. “That whole time in my life is something I regret so, so deeply.”

She stood and crossed the room, sitting beside him on the bed. Nestling against him.

“You did the right thing. I remember telling myself that I could have gone on without you. In fact, I wanted to be alone. I didn’t want to be angry with you anymore.” She took his hand – the one she had mended – in her own. ���Fergus kept me alive, those weeks. He cared for me, and showed me such love, Jamie. Had I not had him in my life then, I never would have been willing to open my heart to you again.”

He kissed her forehead. “I said something to him, when I found him there by the stream. That he had kept it all together for me, all those years when I grieved you. And that it’s him – and not what he can do, or give, or provide – that’s the most important, when it comes to Marsali and the weans. That they love him for who he is, and not simply for what he can or cannae do for them.”

“One could say the same about you,” she said softly.

He squeezed her hand. “When we wed, Claire – I truly had nothing. Ye didn’t even know my full name until right before the ceremony. And I had nothing to that name. We had Lallybroch for a time, and then the wine business in Paris, and then Lallybroch again. And when ye came back to me, I had the printshop, and then I didn’t, and then we landed in the Colonies and I remember us talking about how we’d live our lives here.” He reached for his whisky with his free hand. “We’ve slept in the heather, and at Lallybroch, and on the beaches, and in this grand house. I gained, I lost, I gained again. And yet here ye are, still by my side.”

“Because I love you, Jamie, and not the farmer or laird or merchant or smuggler or printer or solder you’ve been. I trust your love for me.”

He raised their joined hands to his lips.

“I kent exactly the place where Fergus was, Claire. I’ve been there. It’s…the deepest, blackest pit.”

She swirled her thumb over his. “More than once?”

He nodded. “You saw it for yourself, after Wentworth. Then again after Culloden, for sure. And once or twice, when I lived in the cave. I’d dream of you and the bairn, and then I’d awake in the cold.”

She set down his glass of whisky. Wrapped both arms around him. Holding him so close.

“And you, Claire?”

She buried her face into his neck. “After Faith was born, yes. And after I went back, and knew that you were dead.”

“And yet, you’re here. Wi’ me. This is real, with you and me, right now.” His fingertips traced the bumps of her spine, the graceful arch of her shoulders. “I’ll never stop being grateful for it.”

She leaned a bit, and he eased them onto the coverlet, sharing a pillow. She pulled back a bit to look at him.

“There will be a very famous American writer in the next century. His name will be Mark Twain – well, his pen name, anyway. Many of his books will become classics of American literature. You can ask Brianna for a synopsis of his stories – he was one of her favorites, growing up.”

He traced the curve of her cheek, smiling.

“There’s a quote that’s attributed to him. He said, ‘History doesn’t repeat, but it often rhymes.’ What do you think he meant by that?”

“Hmm. I think this Mr. Twain was a verra wise man.”

She smiled back at him. “And why’s that?”

“Because the more we experience things in our lives, the more we make sense of them. The more we can see them all together. Like in a poem. One part by itself may no’ make much sense. But piece it all together…”

Adso jumped up on the bed and crawled in between their legs.

“Ach!” Jamie sat up, took a hold of the cat, and neatly deposited him back on the floor. “Go downstairs and croodle wi’ Major McDonald,” he admonished, only half-jokingly. “Leave me and my wife in peace.”