bodyguard!draken who was assigned to you by your overprotective father after a series of threats. he showed up at your door looking every bit the intimidating former delinquent— tall, tattooed, broad-shouldered, with a permanent scowl etched onto his face. you took one look at him & immediately decided he was going to be fun to mess with.
bodyguard!draken who quickly learns just how bratty you can be. you ignore his safety protocols & constantly talk back to him with that playful little glint in your eyes. “so what are you gonna do about it? spank me?” you’d tease him shamelessly, knowing it gets under his skin every single time.
bodyguard!draken who starts following you around like a shadow. when you go shopping, he’s trailing behind you with half your purchases hanging off his arm. you’ve tried to escape him numerous times but he always finds you within minutes.
bodyguard!draken who is forced to take pictures for your social media every other day. as the spoiled daughter of an influential family, you have a certain public image to uphold & draken quickly learns that being your bodyguard apparently also includes taking candid pictures for your instagram feed.
bodyguard!draken who nearly chokes on his water when you casually tell him you’re thinking of getting a dragon tattoo similar to his but on your back, because you thought ‘it’ll look hot.’ he immediately starts lecturing you about how painful tattoos are, how long they take to heal & how you shouldn’t make impulsive decisions— all while trying to hide how flustered he is that you’re inspired by him.
bodyguard!draken who pretends he’s unaffected by your teasing until one day you decide to casually fix his tie for him before an important event. now suddenly this giant intimidating former delinquent goes completely still while looking at you like you’ve done something incredibly dangerous to his self-control.
and the worst part? you don’t even realize what you’re doing to him when you smooth your fingers over his chest while absentmindedly praising how handsome he looks. poor guy spends the rest of the evening avoiding direct eye contact with you.
bodyguard!draken who secretly loves taking you out on rides with his motorcycle despite your father strictly forbidding it. he always claims it’s faster than driving but really, he just likes the feeling of your arms wrapped tightly around his waist while your laughter mixes with the sound of the engine humming beneath the two of you.
bodyguard!draken who listens attentively whenever you complain about fake friends, exhausting social events, or the pressure that comes with your family name. most of the time he just sits there quietly, nodding along while you ramble, occasionally muttering things like “that sounds annoying as hell.”
bodyguard!draken who finally reaches his limit one night when you sneak out to a club without telling him. once he’s there, he finds you surrounded by a few drunk guys leaning far too close into your personal space, one of them even trying to sling an arm around your shoulder despite your clear discomfort. immediately, he grabs the guy by the collar & shoves him back hard enough to make him stumble against the nearby table before pulling you to his side.
“you seriously don’t get it, do you?” he growls at you later in the car, voice tight with frustration. “this isn’t me being overprotective for fun. if something happened to you…” he cuts himself off, dragging a hand down his face as his jaw clenches. you’ve never seen him look this serious before.
bodyguard!draken who, after that night, becomes even more protective than before. he starts taking you everywhere himself & even waits outside your pilates classes every morning. it doesn’t matter how early the class starts or how long he has to sit outside the studio waiting for you afterwards, draken absolutely refuses to let you go anywhere alone anymore.
hello again! i am the tokyo revengers anon, thank you for letting me know about your writing status :D then if it’s okay with you, could i request hcs for draken with a partner who’s selectively mute? something comforting perhaps! because i am always made to feel bad about not contributing to a conversation 😭 thank you and ily :>
୨୧ ❝ COMFORTABLE SILENCE. ❞
content ⸝⸝ ken ryuguji (draken) x fem ! reader , head-cannons , fluff
"YOU OKAY?"
DRAKEN is the type of guy who makes sure you're always okay. he knows you aren't willing to talk sometimes, and to him, that's perfectly fine. he won't push you to speak unless you're willing to add to the conversation.
THERE ARE times when you can be extremely antisocial—the complete opposite of which is toman's leader, manjiro sano, also known as mikey. mikey is always trying to include you in the conversation or get you to interact with everyone. he'll throw a fit when everyone's out eating and he doesn't have a flag on his meal. the first person he'll turn to is you and ask if you have a flag.
HOWEVER, draken is quick to give mikey a flag because he knows you're unable to tell mikey 'no' in the nicest way possible.
IT'S NOT LIKE you never talk; you do—but the occasions are pretty rare. every single rare moment you open your mouth, draken has always been there.
THE ONLY person you've mostly talked around is ken ryuguji, your boyfriend.
"YEAH, I'M FINE."
YOU'LL RESPOND pretty quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. the last time he can recall you ever raising your voice was when you went to an amusement park for a little date.
YOUR SCREAMS, your laughter, your smile.
DRAKEN WANTS you to talk more, to get out of your comfort zone and start feeling comfortable speaking more often. but it's fine; he's not going to push you to talk whenever you don't want to.
"THAT'S GOOD, you eating?"
MOSTLY, your actions speak for you instead; you nodded.
"'KAY, LOVE YOU."
"LOVE YOU TOO."
AUTHORS NOTE. HEH YAYAYAY TOKYO RVEENGERS REQUEST omg 2021 me would be jumping happily rn HEH I LOVE YOU TOKYO REVENGERS ANON💕💕💕💕 i hope i did this right😢😢😢
synopsis ━━ after one too many trips to the auto repair shop with your old car, you realize you can focus on your work tasks so much better in the waiting room. but when the head mechanic notices you've been loitering, you recognize him instantly: ken ryuguji. there’s zero chance you’re getting out of this one. (older!draken x f!reader.)
content warnings ━━ missionary position on a motorcycle (hey, this is fiction), cunnilingus + fingering, praise, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pet names (i.e. cherry), mentions loss of virginity in the past, mutual pining, au as helllll, draken is in his late 20s and a mechanic. nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni).
word count ━━ 5.2k
song inspiration ━━ one for the road, arctic monkeys / one of the girls, the weeknd / fallen star, the neighbourhood
author's note ━━ ok off the bat, I just wanna say this fic was completely inspired by this movie called wait with me. my friends and I like to watch passionflix movies for the laughs, but this one wasn't. well horrible. if you watch it, don't expect oscar-worthy performances, but it was fun and stupid and yeah, it made me think about what if part of this concept was applied to draken when he was older, workin as a mechanic. idk. I'm not caught up on the manga whatsoever so take this as a major au lol
Your car was a piece of shit, but that wasn’t the only reason you ended up sitting in the waiting room at the mechanic’s more than usual. A police officer would call it loitering. You, on the other hand, called it a safe space. For the past couple of weeks, your car had been in and out of the shop due to a faulty ignition sensor that your mechanic couldn’t nail down until your car broke down on the side of the highway. For the third time. Needless to say, it had been a stressful past month. The car issues had been one thing, but then there was all the pressure at work. And for some reason, you began to find comfort in working at the mechanic’s waiting room.
Your work as a journalist was very important to you. A perfectionist at heart, you needed to be in the right zone, the right state of mind, to write. Unfortunately, you weren’t someone who could sit at your desk at home for hours, typing away at the speed of light, and you definitely couldn’t focus at a coffee shop. You tried a plethora of other places. The local park: your laptop died. The library: teenagers still whispered too loud even in the quietest of places. The McDonald's parking lot: you got distracted by your hunger. Nowhere was right … until you were forced to work from your mechanic’s waiting room while he worked on your car.
Even when your mechanic figured out the issue, you couldn’t help but sneak in through the entrance late mornings and work on your articles. The waiting room was just so … quiet, even more quiet than a library. There was hardly anyone in there besides the retired folk who could wait all day for their car to be fixed. You had a coffee machine at your disposable – not good coffee, but good enough – and a selection of snacks from the vending machine. It was pure bliss. You liked to hole yourself up in the corner, picking out different outfits that would conceal your face enough, and type away until the sun began to set. No one said a word to you. No one batted an eye.
So, as you can see, it was a surprise to you when someone eventually approached you two months into your loitering scheme.
It was just about closing time and you were shoving your laptop in your backpack after sending off another draft to your editor. A pair of feet appeared in front of your chair, and when you looked up at the young mechanic chewing on the end of a toothpick, you knew you were fucked.
“Toyota,” he said without missing a beat, knowing your car from the top of his head, “ignition sensor, right?”
You paused, sliding on your backpack. Could you make a break for it? “Um … correct.”
“That was fixed weeks ago,” he said, slapping a dirty rag on his shoulder, car keys dangling from the other hand.
Your mouth went completely dry. How the fuck could you explain this without coming off as a total weirdo? Your hands gripped the straps of your backpack for dear life. This was so embarrassing.
Before you could reply, the young mechanic gestured to the back door with his chin. “Follow me,” he said. “Boss wants to talk to ‘ya.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Still fiddling with your backpack straps, you knew there was no choice but to follow this guy. He led you through the back door and into the main workshop area of the shop. There were some cars left on a few lifts, ready to be inspected tomorrow, and the shelves packed with parts seemed to be in disarray. Besides that, there was no one in here but you, the young mechanic, and whoever this “boss” was still working in the back of the shop. You had never met the owner of the shop before; you typically worked with your mechanic and no one else.
You took down the hood that you’d been wearing today. There was no use in hiding your face now.
“Here she is, boss,” the man beside you said, still twirling those keys. “Can I go home now?”
“Yeah, yeah,” the boss replied, hidden behind the huge motorcycle he was working on. “Good work today.”
The younger man left, the bell above the office door jingling, and now it was just two: you and this so-called boss you’d never met. You stood there in silence, hands fidgeting with anxiety, as you waited for the boss to say something. From behind the motorcycle, all you could see was a flash of blonde hair and smoke puffing out into the dingy air. It smelled like motor oil and cigarettes back here.
You lifted your foot – maybe it was time to try and sprint out – but then a deep voice entered the work space.
“You know that loitering is against the law, right?”
That voice … it was familiar, but you couldn’t put a pin on it. And then, the boss was standing up, and you saw the tuft of blonde hair slicked back, the shaved sides on his head. That infamous dragon tattoo still on his left temple. The little hoop on his left ear was accompanied by a few other small piercings. He was still the same height – over six feet – but had grown some muscle. His hands were calloused from all those years of fighting, and now, from heavy labor. And those eyes … they were still as stormy and dark as the first day you saw him in school.
This wasn’t just embarrassing. This was mortifying.
“C’mon, Cherry,” Draken said, instantly recognizing you and your old nickname, “you know you can’t loiter in my shop.”
Cherry. You hadn’t been called that since … well, since high school. Your classmates hadn’t started calling you that because of a specific physical trait. To your face, you were told the nickname was for your quick skill of tying a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue. You had been the best, after all. But unbeknownst to you, the nickname came from when Mikey Sano, the infamous former leader of the Tokyo Manji Gang, popped your cherry.
You hadn’t even liked Mikey at the time. You were just sweet sixteen, and he was a year older, and you had assumed it would be better for your first to be someone with experience. Unfortunately, Mikey Sano had no experience. The sex had been awkward and terrible, as most first times between teenagers are, but at least you could say that you lost your virginity to the leader of Toman. Your eyes had always been on someone else, though. Someone who you had been too nervous to talk to, who you had only shared just a few interactions with. You never had a crush on Mikey as a teenager; you had always liked –
“Draken,” you said finally, shock lining your voice. Your eyes formed into wide saucers. It had been so long, and he was here. This whole time. Right under your nose. How surprised did you look right now?
He chuckled, wiping his hands off on a rag. The cigarette dangling from his lips was plucked out, and he stabbed it into an ashtray. “Don’t look so surprised.”
Oh, so you did look that shocked to see him.
He threw the tool he’d been using on a bench and stepped around the bike. “I really don’t go by Draken anymore,” he continued, sitting down on the rusted motorcycle, stretching his legs out. “Just call me, Ken.”
You were speechless. Were you breathing right now? You had to admit … you still found him to be handsome. He always had been. God, you were obsessed with him in high school, but always hid your crush in the shadows. Not even your friends knew about it, but you’d made it obvious, even if you didn’t know it. And now … he’d gotten better with age. The lines underneath his eyes told a story, as well as the scars etched into his veiny forearms. He could have more that you couldn’t see underneath the tattoos on his arms. Your mouth was so dry from staring at him that you had to lick the corners of your lips.
“Ken,” you said in a single breath, lacing your hands together in front of your body. You hadn’t moved from your spot, even when he was looking at you so casually. “I’m so sorry for loitering. Please, don’t call the cops on me. Or something. I have a reason –”
“Me? Call the police?” He laughed again, and it was just like how you remembered. “Do you know me at all, Cherry?”
Once you found the courage to breathe again, you stepped forward. Then another. And another. “I guess I don’t,” you shrugged, still playing with your hands. “I guess I just knew of you.”
“And I knew of you, all those years ago.” He smiled like you two were in on a secret. The rag that had been in his hands was tossed onto his left shoulder. He was wearing a pair of grey coveralls stained with oil, but the top half was unzipped and tied around his waist, leaving him in just a white tank top on his torso, which hugged his muscles so nicely. “So, tell me then. What’s the reason for your loitering?”
This had to be the most words shared between you two than all those years at school together. You thought about pinching yourself, just to check if this was all part of an elaborate dream. Or nightmare, depending on how it ended.
“Um …” You rubbed the back of your neck, blushing slightly. “Well, you see … the waiting room at your shop is very … quiet.”
His brow raised. “So I’ve been told.” He stared you down. “C’mon, out with it.”
“You’re going to make fun of me.”
“I will not.”
“Yes, you will.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because we went to school together!”
“Oh, you know that means noth –”
“I’m a journalist and I write my articles better in your waiting room,” you finally answered, crossing your arms over your chest. “There. I said it.”
Draken couldn’t stop himself from laughing. He knew he promised, but the giggles bubbled up inside him, forcing themselves to emerge. You looked at him incredulously, blinking too fast. All you wanted right now was to crawl into a hole and be left alone. You had to find a new mechanic after this.
“You said you wouldn’t make fun of me,” you sighed.
He waved his hand as his laughter died down. “I’m not. I promise.” Finally, his shoulders sagged again and he stood up. “I think it’s really cool that you … like my waiting room so much.”
You found your lips pulling into a smile at the same time as him. The tension broke and you felt your dimples crease. “I also like all the little snacks in the machine.”
“And the coffee?” He added.
You shrugged. “Could use some work.”
Draken laughed again, and just the sound of it made butterflies form in your stomach. You never had such a reaction to someone laughing before. What was wrong with you?
He stuck his hands in the front pockets of his coveralls. “It’s … really nice to see you again, Cherry.”
You mimicked his actions, instead sliding your hands into the back pockets of your jeans. “You too, Ken.”
“I won’t bust you for loitering, by the way. Even if it is against the law,” he chuckled under his breath, whipping the rag off his shoulder once again. “Come over here. Let me show you what I’m working on.”
His tone was so casual, as if years hadn’t passed between you two, as if this wasn’t the most you talked in years. You set your backpack down and approached him in front of the bike. Your fingers ran over the slope of the seat, all new despite the rusty exterior of the motorcycle. “That’s new leather,” he informed you. “Feel free to test it out. I need someone else’s butt on this thing so I know if I chose a good material.”
You giggled, all light and flirty. You simply couldn’t help it, especially when he looked at you with those dark eyes, the corners creasing when he smiled. Without missing a beat, you sat down on the side of the bike, like he had minutes ago, and looked up at him. He was tall, but from this seat, he was even taller.
He pointed to the wheel of the bike, and then the headlight. “I just started replacing the …” His voice drowned out as you simply focused on his lips. His mouth quirked as he explained what he fixed so far on the bike. You watched his finger dance around the bike, taking in the rough exterior of his hands up close. They were so much bigger now, amongst other things –
“So how’s that seat?”
You blinked, bringing yourself out of your horny stupor. “Oh, um – comfy. Very comfy.” You cleared your throat. “So … is this for a customer?”
“It’s mine. This is a personal project,” he explained, leaning slightly to the left, closer to you. “I wouldn’t be working on anything this late except if it was for me.”
His eyes were on you again, drinking you in as you sat on the bike. He placed his hand on the fuel tank, so close to yours. Your stomach was definitely doing flip-flops now, especially when you noticed the way his eyes raked down your figure. You wished you’d chosen something better to wear, something other than a pair of jeans and a cropped hoodie, but you’d only expected to be getting work done in the waiting room today. Not to be confronted by your old school crush. But it looked like it didn’t matter to him. The way he was looking at you … it felt like you were naked.
“It really is nice to see you again,” he said, voice just slightly above a whisper. His stance changed and he moved to stand between your legs.
You bit your lip for a moment. “You already said that.”
“You’re right. Uh … I …” He looked down at his hands, flexing them, breaking his nerves. “You just … look very pretty … sitting on my bike.”
You looked down at yourself. The way you sat with your legs spread wide was anything but attractive, and it wasn’t like you were wearing a cute, little dress. “I do?”
But when you lifted your stare again, his face was so much closer to yours. He was leaning down now, bracing two hands on the leather seat, and trying to pretend like he wasn’t inhaling your perfume. You just smelled … so good. Like strawberries and apples and … cherries. Red, ripened cherries. And the way you were sitting on that seat, eyes wide and cheeks blushing from being caught earlier. Fuck, it reminded him of the first time he saw you in high school. He had been a horny teenager, of course, but the way he saw you tie that cherry stem with your tongue … you were the first person he ever jerked off to the thought of. He had never made a move on you – ever – but at this moment, he was glad. Because things would’ve been different, and you never would’ve ended up loitering at his shop, and you never would’ve been sitting so pretty on his bike, all these years later.
“I just …” He trailed off, words failing him, as he lifted a hand to skim it over your jawline. “You can tell me to stop.”
But you didn’t. You wouldn’t. Your eyes simply batted up at him, leaning into his touch when his fingers caressed your cheek. Your skin immediately flushed. You were so soft, and warm, and god, did his skin prickle when he touched you.
“Can I tell you a secret?” He muttered, voice gravely. You nodded instantly, and his thumb went to trace the outline of your lips. “I had always been … jealous that Mikey got to you first.”
Had your feelings in high school been reciprocated and you didn’t even know it? You licked at the corners of your lips, your tongue quickly flicking his thumb in the process. “You were?” You asked, already feeling yourself getting wet from just him tracing your lips. “I … never really liked Mikey anyways.” You then shook your head. “It feels silly to talk about this so many years later –”
Draken turned your face back to his, looking into your eyes sternly. “You never liked Mikey,” he said, point blank, pressing his thumb onto your bottom lip.
Without hesitation, you wrapped your lips around his thumb, swirling your tongue around the fingertip. You shook your head at his question.
His breath hitched. Just the sight of your lips around his thumb had him adjusting himself in his pants. He could feel his cock start to swell with need, causing him to mumble a soft, “Fuck,” under his breath.
You weren’t just wet now. You were soaked.
You slipped your mouth off his thumb, leaving a tiny trail of spit. His face immediately got closer, his lips grazing yours. He could tell they were soft, and even your chapstick smelled like cherries. God, how could he be so hard already? “I liked you back when we were teenagers,” you confessed, reaching out to hook your thumbs in the belt loops on his coveralls. “I was too scared to say anything, and Mikey … he’d just been there. Right place at the right time. We really didn’t feel anything for each other.”
Your words stirred something within him, something more than jealousy. Was it regret? The fact that he could’ve had you, all those years ago, if he’d just manned up and asked. He could’ve fought people all day, but when it came to asking out the girl he liked, he’d sat back, let his best friend pop your cherry. It should’ve been him. Fuck, it could’ve been him.
His lips pressed to yours instantly, needing to taste the sweetness on your lips. His tongue darted out, swiping at that cherry flavor, and he moaned. Actually moaned. Draken wasn’t known to be weak for anyone, but you … you had always been a different story. You pulled him in closer by his belt loops, tipping your face up as he leaned over you. His mouth devoured yours, his tongue slipping past your lips once again to explore your mouth. He gripped the edge of the seat, his other hand cradling your jaw, and you wanted him so much closer. If he just put his knee between your legs, you could –
There it was. He did it, placing his knee right in the perfect spot. You bucked your hips up, setting a slow grind against his knee as he kissed you with feverish intent. Moans fell from your lips and into the kiss, making the tent in his pants grow bigger every passing second. He was so fucking hard now, and he needed more of you. He would have more of you.
“No, stop,” he muttered, breaking the kiss and moving his knee away. You huffed with disappointment, wanting that delicious friction once again, but when you opened your eyes, he was staring at you with purpose. “Please, let me taste you.”
You nodded dumbly, eyes blown out with lust. All you could say was, “Okay.”
In another life, you would’ve said something endearing, or maybe even hit him with a little dirty talk. But you absolutely couldn’t right now. Your head was swimming, the image of him unzipping your jeans and taking them off felt like it was out of a fever dream. Is this what it felt like to drown? No, you were breathing – just about – and Draken was throwing your pants off to the side, kneeling before you. Your legs spread wide as you sat on the bike. Surely, there could’ve been a better place to do this, but the way he was staring at your soaked panties, pushing them to the side to take in your pussy … you knew there was no stopping him. This was just his first course of the night.
His tongue dove between your wet folds, drinking you in like a glass of lemonade on a hot summer’s day. You knew you were done for when his arms wrapped around your legs, holding them apart, giving himself better access to one thing he’d craved for years. He rolled his tongue over your swollen clit, enjoying the sounds that slipped out of your mouth. You muttered obscenities, bucked your hips without thinking, pulled on his slicked-back hair. Anything to give you more friction on your precious, aching clit.
He dragged his tongue down, pushing it inside your warmth, collecting the arousal and groaning like a man starved. Fucking his tongue into you, he angled his nose to brush your clit, and you just about mewled. You had spent so many years either having mediocre sex or stressing over this stupid job, when this – this man you had been in love with in school – was here the whole time, just dreaming about the day he could eat your pussy. So much time wasted, so many fake orgasms, while Ken Ryuguji owned your favorite auto shop, so close to you and right under your nose.
You were pretty sure the seat on this bike had to have been ruined. Draken was turning you into a wet mess, making your hips buck against his face. His lips wrapped your beloved clit, sucking and pulling, needing more – so much more – of you. Slipping two fingers inside you, he pumped them fast. It didn’t take long for his fingers to curl and find that sweet spot that had your core trembling around him. He didn’t know what he’d do if you came on his face. Honestly, he’d probably cum in his pants on the spot.
“C’mon … c’mon … you can cum in my m–mouth –” He was practically begging, his voice muffled from deep within your thighs. “Tastes so, so good … fuck, Cherry, fuck –”
You couldn’t stop yourself, couldn’t even think about anything but the way his tongue lapped at your clit, before you were cumming on his tongue, your arousal smearing all over his lips. He moaned the second he got just a hint of your essence, burying his face more into your legs. You tasted better than candy, than cherries, than menthol cigarettes. He could spend forever between these thighs, drinking you in and listening to your desperate moans.
Once your body stopped shaking, he dragged his tongue one last time through your folds, making sure he didn’t miss a drop. You yelped from the overstimulation, and when you opened your eyes, he was rising from in between your legs. His licked at your slick still staining his lips, bringing your mouth to his again, letting you taste yourself. Your hands fisted into his shirt, downright desperate for more of him. As if reading your thoughts, he pulled back.
“I know it’s not ideal, given the place we’re in, but …” He cradled your face in both in his hands, as if you were just a baby bird. “Can I fuck you, Cherry?”
You nodded without hesitation, already drunk on his touch. You weren’t exactly sure how he planned on doing this. I mean … you two were in the dirty workshop area of an auto repair shop. This wasn’t exactly the best place to have sex. But then he was adjusting your position on the motorcycle, laying your head down by the handlebar and pulling your legs on both sides of the seat, your ass resting nicely in the curve. His hands were quick to roll off your panties.
“Ken,” you called out, sitting up a little and dragging your hand up. His white tank bunched up at the waist. “Wanna see more of you …”
Draken was so goddamn hard in his pants, his cock throbbing with the anticipation of being inside you, but you were just so pretty and he was putty in your hands. He let your palms explore him, lifting his tank top up so you could see what the fabric had been concealing. He’d really filled out since school – his arms were toned, his abdomen more defined. He looked like the statue of Apollo, all lean and muscled, but with just the right amount of grit. You liked that he never got his dragon tattoo removed (although, that would’ve been very painful), and that his piercings remained the same. Everything about him seemed untouched, but he’d just gotten better with age. Just the sight of him made your mouth water.
You leaned back down on the bike, bringing him down with you. Your lips pressed against his hungrily, and he was so, so tempted to slip his tongue into your mouth, when he felt his cock hard as a rock in his pants, aching and pulsating. His mouth broke away from yours, and he whispered, quite hopelessly, “I’m so sorry, but I really, really need to be inside you or my dick is going to explode.”
A chuckle escaped your lips, and just the sound of it made Draken smile. You nodded, urging him to continue, and he quickly unzipped the bottom half of his coveralls. He took his cock out: it was long, curved, pink at the tip, and leaking precum on the shop floor. All the more reason to be inside you; he couldn’t have his mechanics seeing that on the floor and wondering what he was doing after hours. He pulled a condom out from his wallet and slid the ribbed rubber on. Lifting both your legs onto his shoulders, your ass was almost rising off the seat and he positioned himself between your thighs, noticing the way your slick was smeared all over his seat. He grunted at the sight of it, slamming his cock into your without thinking.
You cried out, feeling him so deep so quickly. He held your legs up, leaning down as far as he could, and muttered, “Fuck, I’m sorry – so sorry – just … needed to be inside you. Needed to fuck you on my bike.”
You hand came up to cup his chin for a moment. “S’okay,” you promised, “just fuck me like you should’ve done years ago, Draken.”
He knew he told you to call him Ken, but just the nickname falling your lips in such a filthy manner had him groaning. Draken pulled out of you until only the tip remained, and then pounded his cock back inside you. You keened, trying to close your legs, but he held them up by his shoulders. He set a fast pace inside you, unable to keep his moans at bay, and slipped one hand off your leg to snake his fingers up your hoodie, pushing it up to your chin. Pulling your breasts out from your bra, his eyes clouded and played with your sensitive nipples. “So good,” he muttered, teeth sinking into his bottom lip for a moment. “Feels so, so good … needed you for so long, Cherry.”
“I know, I know, Draken,” you whimpered, locking your arms around his neck to bring his face closer to yours, your thighs now curling against your chest. Your back ached against the seat and your legs burned from the uncomfortable position, but you wouldn’t dare push him away, not when he was filling you like this.
With his lips just grazing yours, he tugged on your lip, making you moan, and he fucked into you harder. Your nails were now dragging down his shoulders, leaving marks that he’d think about forever. “Fuck, I’m s’deep … so deep inside you. You’re so warm, so wet – fuck, I’m so close already.”
“Wait for me,” you begged, sighing as his cock curved against your sweet spot. “Wanna cum with you, Draken.”
“I know, Cherry,” he grunted, his pace relentless. Fuck, this was all he ever needed, all he wanted to do, forever. It felt like you were made to take him. “Touch yourself f’me. Cum together … we’ll cum together.”
You nodded quickly, moving your hand in between your bodies, finding your puffy clit so easily. A whine escaped your lips as you fingers rubbed little circles, getting you so close already. You just needed a little push. Draken was slamming into you, his breaths fanning your cheeks, and when he felt your legs start to shake, your walls clenching just a little, he almost died. “Such a good girl …” He cooed, nose brushing yours. “Touching yourself f’me so nicely … fuck, you take me so well … yes, yes, you’re so close. Just like that.”
Your fingers rubbed a little faster, and you knew your orgasm was imminent. With him pushing into you, filling you completely, and the stimulation on your clit … you felt your lips purse into an O-shape. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Draken. I’m gonna … fuck, I’m gonna cum.”
“I know, I know,” he groaned. “Fuck – gonna cum too. That’s a good girl … doing so good – fuck –”
His release came first. He had been close for so long, Draken was surprised he’d been able to hold back. He came with a loud groan, spilling himself into the condom, and it was only seconds later that your jaw went slack with pleasure. His name fell from your lips in a whimper, and you kept rubbing that aching clit through your orgasm, going tight around his cock. He wouldn’t stop fucking into you, even when your orgasm subsided, needing to feel you clench around him for just a moment longer. The way he filled you wasn’t like any other. You never wanted to feel empty again. You couldn’t, not when you knew how Ken Ryuguji felt inside you.
When you both eventually stopped trembling, he gently placed your legs back down on the sides of the bike. They felt sore and limp, but that was the last thing on your mind. You opened your eyes at the same time, and you both couldn’t help but laugh at the position you were in, the absurdity of it all. The workshop smelled like gas and oil, and you were surrounded by broken-down cars. But you two had fucked like you were in a bedroom, on a soft mattress, rather than a motorcycle. You hand went over your mouth to suppress your giggles.
Draken smiled with you, and then removed your hand, liking the way you laughed. “I know it’s been a long time coming, but … can I take you out some night?”
You couldn’t stop smiling even if you tried. “I’d like that, Ken.”
His cock had gone soft, but he was still nestled inside you, basking in your warmth. Draken wished he could be inside you forever, with your fingers playing with his hair. He would give anything for this moment to last, but he knew this position on the bike had to be the most uncomfortable for you, and he needed to take off this condom. He chuckled under his breath.
“Also, in case you were wondering,” he said, lips pulling into a smirk. “You can loiter around my waiting room anytime.”
draken x reader
description: in a world full of noise, violence, and unspoken pain, draken never learned how to rest. but you did.
the garage always smelled like oil and metal, but tonight there was rain in the air too—cool, clean, slipping in through the open door. you sat on an overturned crate near the back, legs pulled to your chest, listening to the steady clink of tools against concrete.
draken hadn't said much since you arrived.
he never did when something was weighing on him.
"you're gonna fall asleep like that," he muttered, not looking up from the bike he was working on.
you smiled faintly. "you say that every time."
"and every time, i'm right."
you shifted, stretching your legs. "then why don't you stop me?"
that made him pause.
the garage went quiet except for the rain tapping against the roof. draken straightened slowly, rolled his shoulders, and finally turned to look at you. his blond hair was tied back, loose strands clinging to his face from sweat. the dragon tattoo curled along his temple, sharp and familiar—like a warning and a promise all at once.
"tch," he clicked his tongue. "you're annoying."
you stood and walked closer, stopping just a step away. "and you let me stay."
his eyes flicked down to you, unreadable. "yeah. i do."
that was the thing about draken. he never said what he felt—not directly. he showed it in small ways instead. the extra helmet he always kept around "just in case." the way he walked you home without making it a big deal. how he'd position himself just slightly in front of you when things got loud or tense.
you reached out, brushing grease from his knuckles with your thumb. "rough day?"
he exhaled through his nose. "you could say that."
"wanna talk about it?"
he hesitated, jaw tightening. for a second, you thought he's brush you off like usual. instead, he leaned back against the bike and looked up at the ceiling.
"sometimes," he said quietly, "i wonder if i'm good for anyone. this life. the fights. the mess."
your chest tightened.
you stepped closer, resting your forehead against his shoulder. "you don't get to decide that alone."
he stiffened at first, then slowly relaxed. one of his arms came up, resting awkwardly around you, like he wasn't sure he was allowed to hold you yet.
"you're stronger than you think," you continued. "and kinder than you let on. you protect people—even when it costs you."
he scoffed softly. "you make it sound noble."
"it is," you said. "especially to me."
silence settled again, but this time it was warm.
draken looked down at you, eyes softer than anyone else ever got to see. "you know," he said, voice low, "if you keep staying by my side like this... i'm not gonna let you go."
you smiled, heart pounding. "good."
he chuckled under his breath, then pulled you fully into his chest, strong arms wrapping around you with a certainty that made you feel safe in a world that rarely was.
outside, the rain kept falling.
inside the garage, for once, the noise softened.
and in draken's arms, you knew—whatever came next, you wouldn't face it alone.
𝑲𝑬𝑵 𝑹𝒀𝑼𝑮𝑼𝑱𝑰 shows his love through actions and barely words. Although averse to most physical affection, he makes an exception for you, whom he calls by no nickname, but with the sweetest lilt that lets any hearing person know he’s yours. He kisses your forehead, your hair, rather than your lips. He’ll service you however you want. Won’t even jokingly complain when you request for his credit card to go on a shopping spree. Growing up around fabulous women, he knows a thing or two about beauty and self-care, that too on a female’s behalf, so he specialises certain things for you. To him, there’s no such thing as ‘too girly’. The spectrum of gender means little to him. He’ll gladly paint your nails, style your hair, choose between the outfits you pick. If you’re not well-versed in any type of bodycare, he’s the man for you, already having assessed your skin and hair type because he makes it a point to memorise everything about you, providing the best solutions. He’s the kind of boyfriend who adds fuel to your spark. Never takes from it or drains your energy. When you’re feeling hungry, he’s already preparing your favourite dish or ordering it in. You’re his priority and his lover, but he’ll set you straight when you’re behaving out of line in calm explanations, telling you honestly, carefully what you did wrong. Never in angry rambles; he does not raise his voice at women. Anything you need done, he’ll do it. He keeps track of your menstrual cycle and gets you things accordingly.
