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petrichorium · 1 year

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Symbiosis

in which you break down, and draken is there to pick up the pieces

draken x gn!reader

word count: 2.9k reader: gn (no pronouns, neutral terms, neutral clothing) tags: hurt/comfort ig??? just pre-relationship, cuddling, flirting, idk man reader's going through it and draken's v much in love w them

“stay,” you mumble.

draken stiffens. he pulls up a little, just enough that he doesn’t have to brace himself anymore, but it has you whining anyway until he sinks to his knees and lets you fall in close again.

“i can sleep on the couch—“

“no.” you shake your head and ball your fist around the fabric. “here. sleep with me.”

“i’m not getting in your bed wearing my work clothes, baby, i’ll get grease all over your sheets.”

“i can change my sheets. small price to pay for you to hold me tonight.”

he’s quiet for a moment. you think the words might have stunned him, just a bit; but they work either way, because after a beat he rises without protesting any further and silently pulls your covers aside to join you.

“all right,” he says, unbearably low and soft as his work boots fall to the floor with two heavy thuds, “can’t say no to you.”

Draken shows up on day three of your self-induced isolation.

You’re sitting out on your balcony, enjoying the cool of the evening and watching the sun dip beneath the horizon. It helps you orient yourself, you've come to find, being outside as the light slowly fades. When you crash like this you need all the help you can get.

Frankly you should be thankful it’s only him and not an entire brigade of motorcycles and ex-gangsters. You’re not well-versed enough to know it’s him from the sound of the engine—not like he is, when you sit next to him in the shop and he can tell you who will come walking through the door by the roaring noise of their approach—but you’re fairly certain it’s him. Even when he stops, and stands, and you can’t see much more than the bulky silhouette of his form with those broad shoulders and thick forearms covered by the work overalls he still wears, you know.

He doesn’t see you at first. The first few steps he takes are towards the stairwell that leads up to where your front door is, but then he pauses and lifts a hand to squint up at you before approaching your balcony.

You can only just see him through the bars of the railing by the time he stops, but he’s close enough now that you note the ponytail his hair is in—you hadn’t been there to braid it over shitty burnt coffee from the pot in the back room this morning.

“Didn’t come to work today,” Draken calls up to you. You hunker down further in your seat, and though you thought he couldn’t see you well enough he moves forward a bit at the action. “Everyone’s worried, you weren’t answering your phone.”

“I called out.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been three days. You hurt?”

“No.”

“Sick? You sound—“

“No,” you say again, more sternly the second time, because you know he’s asking about your voice and you don’t exactly want to shout down to your colleague that you sound congested because you’ve been crying all day.

“Good.” There’s relief in his voice as he glances over towards the stairwell up to your front door, then back to you, “can I come up?”

“Door’s locked.”

“I’ll pick it.”

You shake your head. “Latched.”

His sigh is long-suffering. “Always makin’ me work for it, huh?”

When he disappears from view you figure he’ll kick down your door. You resign yourself to it; anticipate the muffled sound of his foot against solid wood until it gives in, the complaints from your neighbors in the morning. Maybe someone will call the police thinking you’re being robbed and you’ll have to deal with that at whatever hour it currently is.

Instead you hear a grunt, and the shabby metal railing of your balcony rattles violently as a big hand catches hold of it.

And what you let out is more a screech than a yelp, taken entirely by surprise. You’re a bit calmed when Draken’s head follows—he hefts himself up with a surprising amount of ease, bicep bulging visibly even beneath the long sleeve of his jumpsuit—but your heart still pounds rapidly within your chest, and you’re still frozen half lunged away from him.

His other hand finds the top of the railing and it’s all over from there; soon he has all six-feet-and-change of his body up and one leg over. For a beat he sits like that, straddling the banister, and then he swings his other leg over all the way and settles heavy on the concrete floor.

The balcony is tiny, made even more so by the sheer size of your new companion. He approaches, careful not to disturb the multitude of plants, and drops to sit facing you.

For a heartbeat, two, several, he is still. You’re both silent. You tuck your head further into your knees, looking out at the drab buildings and glowing yellow street lights past the railing. Before your very eyes you watch rain begin to fall—a light smattering of drops at first, thick and fat against the dark asphalt below, and then more, heavier and heavier, until the world beyond is covered by the curtain of a deluge and nothing more than blurry acrylic on canvas.

“Got up just in time,” Draken says suddenly. You nearly jump. His voice is surprisingly clear despite the roaring sound of rain hitting every surface beyond the balcony.

You let yourself turn to him. He straightens as soon as you do, shuffling in a bit closer until he could practically lay his head in your lap. But he doesn’t; he shifts, turning to face out and extend his legs as far as they can go, toes of his large boots pressing between the bars of the railing he’d just climbed. His legs are so long they’re still largely bent, but he rests his arms there as he leans back against the building behind you, and you suppose it seems comfortable enough.

“How’d you even get up?” you ask him finally, earning yourself a biting grin.

“Used the balcony under yours. S’easy to climb these things if you know what you’re doing.”

Your nose scrunches, and that grin softens into something fond. Draken shifts to reach out and press a thumb between your eyes, smoothing out the wrinkles there.

“I don’t like when you do stupid shit,” is what you settle on saying.

“That’s a lie, you love when I do stupid shit.”

“Not when it’ll get me a complaint in the morning about the massive boot print on my neighbor’s railing.”

“To go with the noise complaints about the motorcycle after dark.”

The hackles you’ve had up slowly fall; his presence is calming, big but warm. Protective. You feel like he could shoulder every burden for you.

It would be cruel of you to make him.

But he catches onto your silence. “Hey, don’t go quiet on me now. Unless you’re figuring out how to tell me what’s up with you.”

Your shoulders slump. You pull your legs up again, leaning back, and Draken’s hand finds itself on your thigh, all big and heavy and comforting.

“Look, it’s just… been a bad few days. Happens sometimes. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Hm.” He hums to himself, and squeezes your thigh, almost in thought. “Can’t say I agree with that. In fact I think my whole goal here is to make you somethin’ I gotta worry about. So… give me more to work with.”

“It’s just me, okay? I just… crash, sometimes. Need to take a few days and work it through.”

“Alone?”

Your lip quivers. “Always have.”

“Not what I asked.”

“Well… fine. Talking won’t do much. I’ve just told you all I know—I get in a funk, like, twice a year and can’t leave my place for days at a time. Can’t say there’s been anyone around who wanted to help me out during it. So I guess if you wanna spend your Friday night trying, be my guest.”

He ponders on that a moment, turning away from you to look out at the still raging storm. Then he turns back and says, “C’mere.”

It sounds almost like an order as he pats his thigh, and to your genuine surprise you obey it. There’s barely enough room on the balcony as-is and you think it’ll only make things worse to attempt to fit two grown adults in the space next to the chair—especially when one of them is Ryuguji Ken—but there’s a magnetic pull to the idea of letting him comfort you that you don’t even want to fight. Halfway down though, as he reaches up to guide you, you have a sudden realization of what position you’re in—and what the implications might be, despite the overall context.

“Don’t kiss me,” you say.

“What?” There’s easy amusement in his voice—endearment, adoration—as he leans back comfortably against the wall and pulls you all the way into his lap without missing a beat. It’s strangely right. You’d have thought that feeling small in his hold would be distressing to you, but somehow it’s not some disjointed desire to leap away that beckons the tears welling in your eyes—rather it’s something like his hands, large and warm and secure on your waist, punching down whatever dam had been stopping the waterworks.

One of those hands reaches up to wipe away your tears. It’s sturdy, calloused—so very much the hand of a man who uses them for hard labor. Draken seems to have the same thought at the same time, though he comes to a vastly different conclusion.

“Sorry.” His thumb pauses against the soft skin beneath your eye, eases off you slowly. “’s probably—too rough.”

Your hand is flying up to make him keep it there before he can fully take it away, fingers a vice around his wrist. There’s a denial on your lips, an insistence that his hands are perfect, but you make the mistake of looking up to meet his gaze before you speak and whatever words you might have said get caught in the back of your throat.

He lets you hold his hand to your cheek and you kind of want to melt with him staring down at you like that. Sable eyes—deep and abyssal, like the starless night sky above you—regard you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held. You watch as they trace over your face, as his Adam’s Apple bobs in his throat and his thumb brushes away your tears again, and your heart jumps.

“I’m serious,” you choke out, burying your face into his shirt just to hide from the way he’s looking at you.

“Aww, c’mon, don’t get all shy on me—“

“If you decide to kiss me for the first time like this I’ll hit you.” Your voice is muffled against him, thick with sobs, and you can feel in your chest the way his broad form shakes with low, smooth laughter. “I’m literally bawling, pick a more romantic moment.”

It takes a minute for Draken to stop laughing long enough to answer. “Noted. I won’t kiss you.” A pause. His arms tighten around you. When he speaks it’s softer, slightly hesitant. “Can I kiss your head, though?”

You snort. It’s watery. “Sure.”

The word is no sooner out of your mouth than he’s pressing his lips to your hairline, just above your temple, right where the head of his dragon is, on his own scalp. And he doesn’t pull away when he’s done; he noses into you, like some affectionate dog, pulling your own bark of laughter out of you simply from shock by the way the motion makes your stomach flutter.

“There. Feelin’ better already, yeah?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

At your waist, his thumb brushes soothingly against bare skin, tucked up beneath your shirt. His hand squeezes there, almost groping at your stomach; if he were anyone else you might be annoyed by it.

“You ready to head in?” he asks. “It’s getting cold.”

You wouldn’t quite say cold, but certainly brisk. And now that you’ve cried your eyes are feeling heavy, the exhaustion of your emotions settling in, so you nod against him and allow him to help you to your feet.

Once you’re standing, he joins you—and suddenly it’s even more tight, and you have to lean back against the railing to let him sidle along the building to get to the door and open it for you. His hands find your hips as he does; you laugh breathlessly at the cliched motion, and he squeezes at you again in a silent tease.

Draken reaches out to guide you through the door with a broad hand on the small of your back, thick fingers spread wide. The heat of it flutters across your skin as it urges you forward, stark against the chilly air, gentle but insistent.

You’d probably let him carry you back to your bedroom if the opportunity arose—honestly, he’d probably do it if you asked, but it’d been too cramped outside for him to even attempt that and you’re feeling far too contrary now to ask. Soon enough you’re at the door anyway, and he’s trudging over to turn on your bedside lamp for some light before returning to you.

“Wash your face,” he orders with a little nudge towards the bathroom. “It’ll help you feel better.”

And though a part of you resists giving in to his advice, you know he’s right. You even successfully push down the urge to tell him you’d have done it anyway; instead you obediently wander in the direction he pushed you towards and begin running the water to let it get warm.

“What do you sleep in?” he calls out as you go to bend down.

“Top left of the dresser,” you call back, directing him towards a drawer of soft t-shirts. “And a pair of sweats under it.”

By the time you’ve finished cleaning your face and patting it dry with a clean towel, he’s returned to lean against the door frame.

“Put a set of clothes out for you,” he tells you as you approach him, and sure enough when you look over his shoulder you can see a shirt and sweatpants laid out on your bed. He dips now that you’re closer, turning his face into your hair for a fleeting moment, and mutters, “I’ll go get you some water while you change.”

With that he’s gone, carefully closing your bedroom door behind him.

You want him to stay the night, you realize at that moment. You want him to stay the night and you’re almost certain he’d never go for it—Draken and his stupid, thickheaded chivalry. He’d have kissed you if you hadn’t stopped him, just because you looked cute cuddled up in his lap with your eyes all big and watery, but you’ll have to drag him into bed yourself if you want him to stay.

No matter. As you pull on the shirt he’d picked out (it’s big enough that it might be one of his, you think absent-mindedly; yet another thing he’d shamelessly do if he thought you wouldn��t notice) you make up your mind, and a plan of attack comes to you easily.

You’re getting into bed when the knock comes at your door. Draken doesn’t quite wait for you to answer, opening it just barely and peeking in to check himself if you’re decent. When he sees that you are he opens it entirely and comes in with his promised water cup in hand.

He sets the glass on your bedside table and turns off your light but you don’t acknowledge him verbally. Instead you reach up to hook a finger into his collar and tug his towering form down to loom over you. It’s a little clumsy, and he lets out a surprised grunt, but he catches himself with a hand against your headboard before he can come crashing down on top of you.

Like this, it’s easy to press your nose into his neck, just beneath his jaw, letting your eyes flutter closed as you take a deep, slow inhale to ground yourself.

“Stay,” you mumble.

Draken stiffens. He pulls up a little, just enough that he doesn’t have to brace himself anymore, but it has you whining anyway until he sinks to his knees and lets you fall in close again.

“I can sleep on the couch—“

“No.” You shake your head and ball your fist around the fabric. “Here. Sleep with me.”

“I’m not getting in your bed wearing my work clothes, baby, I’ll get grease all over your sheets.”

“I can change my sheets. Small price to pay for you to hold me tonight.”

He’s quiet for a moment. You think the words might have stunned him, just a bit; but they work either way, because after a beat he rises without protesting any further and silently pulls your covers aside to join you.

“All right,” he says, unbearably low and soft as his work boots fall to the floor with two heavy thuds, “can’t say no to you.”

One of his hands eases beneath you as he eases himself over you and pulls the covers back on top of you both, sliding up under your shirt to press a warm, calloused palm against your back. You reach your arms over his shoulders in return and use the motion to tug the hairtie from his hair—one of your own, you realize as you slide it onto your wrist, and it has your chest fluttering as those black strands fall to curtain your face along with his.

You let your fingers scratch at his scalp and he lets out a low groan. First his head drops to tuck into the crook of your neck, then his whole body, pressing not even close to the full weight of him against you. His other hand runs down the side of your body to your waist, and then he’s shifting you, pushing you over a few inches so that there’s enough room between you and the edge of your bed for him to lean against it.

At last Draken relaxes, more on top of you than not but carefully keeping enough of his weight off you that you’re not being crushed. You’re not sure you’d mind, though; as you begin to nod off, all that remains in your mind is how nice the pressure is. It’s grounding, and warm, and it’s not as if you’d complain about feeling him pressed up against you.

You turn your head to tuck his beneath your chin, and he sighs heavily against your skin, pulling you in even closer. Like that, you both drift off.

In the morning you think you’ll finally let him kiss you.

#draken x reader #draken x y/n #draken x you #ken ryuuguji x reader #ken ryuuguji x y/n #ken ryuuguji x you #tokrev x reader #tokrev x y/n #tokrev x you #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers x y/n #mine.🌧#char.🌧 draken #fic.🌧 symbiosis #god this was supposed to be a lil drabble lmfaooooo i truly do not know how long things will end up JAHKDBF #I HOPE IT DOESNT DRAG ON TOO LONG TBH i think it might but yk what. we ball #its fanfic im allowed to drag a little #enjoy JHSBDF

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rqzy · 9 months

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uhh i dunno to name this😄☝️☝️

cw: afab fem x gyro, unprotected sex, fingering, blowjob, praise kink, porn w/o plot

word count: 1.4k

note: idk if i should make a part 2

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Small whimpers leave your lips as you’re sprawled on a motel bed with Gyro towering over you, exploring your body no less. “You don’t mind me lifting this do you?” he asks with that stupid smirk you’ve grown accustomed to seeing throughout the race when he wins 2nd place. He lifts your skirt, as if it wasn’t already hiked up to your upper thighs, his hands trailing up and down them before resting his fingers on your inner thigh. The sensation is driving you crazy, his touch making you more desperate each time he teased you.

“Gyro quit being such a tease..” you say a bit quietly. “But bella, it's the best part,” he says, leaning into your ear and whispering it teasingly. “You’re so mean, gyro” you whine as he continues to explore your body. He trails his fingers up to your button-up before ripping it open, the buttons going everywhere as you gasp. “Gyro, that's my only good shirt!? you say still shocked. “Oh it's fine, I'll just give you one of mine,” he says smugly before placing his hands on your breasts and whispering again “Looks like we have to take that pretty bra off, huh?” he moves back as you sit up, and undo your bra in front of him embarrassed, you blush at the sight of him watching intently before the bra comes off.

“fuuuuck..bambola, you look so cute,” he says before pushing you back down “I can't wait to see how pretty you are when I fuck you.” he says before kissing you, palming your breast, fondling it as you moan quietly into the kiss. The kiss lasts for a bit before he trails his kisses down to your neck, littering it in his green lipstick. Soft whimpers leave your lips once again as he does this. “you like that don’t you?” he asks, you can feel him smiling against your skin as you hum a soft “mhm” to him. he begins to bite your neck a bit, earning another abundance of moans from you as he continues to smile against your skin. His hand slowly moves from your breast down to your lifted-up skirt as his hand trails over your panties before resting it.

“You’re so wet for me and I haven't even done that much” he chuckles before rubbing against your panties, smirking of course as he does this. “Should we take this off?” he asks, teasing you as he lifts the waistband up. You nod before he asks “Speak up y/n.” he says as his smirk grows. “Take it off, gyro.” you say with a tint of desperation in your voice before he slides your panties off, in awe of the sight he was seeing before leaning back down and kissing your neck again as he rubs a few small circles around your clit. waves of pleasure being sent through you as you’ve been craving this for so long. “f-fuck gyro..” you moan softly he continues to rub your clit before sliding two fingers in you as they pump in and out of you. Your soft moans slowly became louder as he continued, the feeling was overwhelming as he began kissing your neck a bit rough.

“mm- gyro im close” you whine to him before he removes his fingers as he looks up at you “That was only a small preparation” he snickers before standing up at the edge of the bed. “c’mere carina.” he says, gesturing before you sit at the edge of the bed. “undo my belt for me, will ya?” he asks looking down at your flushed face as you slowly undo his belt before looking up at him again. “Fuck, those pretty little eyes of yours are driving me crazy, y/n.” he says sighing before pulling his boxers down enough for his dick to spring out. He held your cheek in his hand as he spoke “suck it, please” Despite his ‘please’ nothing about his tone made it sound like much of a choice.

you didn’t mind though as you slowly took his tip into your mouth sucking softly as you began taking more of him into your mouth. He sucked air into his teeth at the view of you trying to take his dick in your mouth. “That's good, keep going, Tesoro'' he said as his breath got heavier. As you continue taking him, wrapping your hand around the shaft of his dick for whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth. For a while you were doing a good job since Gyro would occasionally mutter some Italian curse under his breath before he placed his hand behind your head and moved your head on his dick at a fast pace. “fu-fuck, amore thats real’ good” you could tell he was getting close before you pull away. “now it wouldn’t be fair if you got to cum and i didn’t” I say pouting a bit as i look up at him before he chuckles,” that's right..you’re right, let's change that.”

he says before again pushing you onto the bed and pulling you closer to him as he lifts your legs over his shoulder as he grins at you. “you ready, y/n?” you nod eagerly at his question before he slowly slid into you, stopping to let you adjust before you gesture him to move. “you’re so fucking tight” he mumbles in between grunts as he slowly slides in and out of you. a bundle of moans leave your lips as he moves his hand to your cunt rubbing circles on your clit while he fastens his pace. You couldn’t focus on anything but him now, and he wanted that.

“I'll make you so cock drunk you won't be able to walk tomorrow, dolcezza.” he says smugly before thrusting into you quicker for a bit as you whine and whimper. “Gyro..im really fuckin’ close” you try to speak in between moans before he thrusts into you rougher as you finally reach your high and you pant for a bit recovering. You hear gyro chuckle again, confused, you look up at him. “Oh Bambina, I said I'd make you cock drunk, didn't I? You aren’t getting off that easy.” he says before pulling you to the edge of the bed and flipping you over, The sight in front of him was heaven. You fucked out from your prior orgasm, bent over the bed for him now. “fuck you so hot when you’re fucked out, I wonder what you’ll look like after I make you cum again.”

he says leaning in whispering to your ear before he pulls back and slides into you again, going at a relentless pace. “mm!.. f-fuck gyro..!!” you say sensitive and overstimulated as he slaps your ass a bit harshly making you grip the sheets and yelp. “you take me so fucking well, y/n” he says as more grunts leave his mouth as he holds your hip with one hand and while the others still on your ass. he continues to fuck you relentlessly as you feel your next orgasm coming up. You can barely form a sentence, You mumble praises to him,” G-gyro im..f-fuck..im close” As he continues his rough pace, more moans and whimpers leave your body. “S-shit Miele I am too.”

he sounds more breathy as he chases his release as he fucks you. Soon enough, you cum again moaning a bunch of curses as well as his name. “your pretty voice is gonna be the reason i fuckin’ cum, y/n.” he says in between moans before quickly pulling out and cumming on your ass as he moans a string of Italian curses under his breath. Gyro then plops onto the bed lazily before turning to you,” Bella, you're so pretty when you’re cock drunk off me~” he says before kissing your cheek. Before you could even say anything you heard a snore, he was asleep?? already? you chuckle and go to get up to shower before you feel how wobbly your legs are, you punch gyro awake. “Come shower with me, I can't walk by myself.” You say as you watch him smile widely as he wakes up from his small cat nap, “I told you , you wouldn’t be able to walk, and I'd love to shower with you..” he says before picking you up and bringing you to the bathroom to shower smirking.

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