biadluca

[inkykeiji]

character: hanemiya kazutora x fem!reader genre: smut warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudocest (step siblings), naughty photographs, mentions of naughty letters and phone calls, coercion/guilt tripping, just general ickiness words: 1.3k

Your big brother is a sick, depraved man. 

He always has been.

You’ve always known it, a truth buried deep at the very core of your soul where it has begun to rot, to infect—you knew it when he killed Shinichiro, knew it when he stabbed Baji, knew it when he beat the boy who had been picking on you in first grade to near death, only a few days after you and your dad had moved into his mother’s dilapidated little house.

It’s okay, you don’t have to be afraid anymore, he had said to you as his clumsy thumbs swiped through the streams of tears on your cheeks, leaving streaks of blood painted in their wake. I’m your big brother now, I’ll always keep you safe. 

And keep you safe he did, until he got sent away, and then got sent away again, and you were all alone once more.

They shaved his head down to his scalp when he was incarcerated, but it’s been several years since he was arrested now, moved from the juvenile detention center to a real prison, and his hair has begun to grow out again, fluffy onyx tufts curling over the tips of his ears and around his cheeks. 

He’s beginning to look like himself again. 

“Hi,” he pants as you reach his table, the breath released from the confines of its lungs, where you’re sure it’s been festering since your last visit, exactly seven days ago. 

“Hi, Tora-nii,” you nod politely, taking a seat across from him. 

Your knees knock together, and he scoots closer to the edge of the bench, the chains adoring his ankles jingling delicately. Your toes overlap his own as he wedges them beneath the soles of your feet, wiggling a little in his slip-on shoes. 

“I missed you,” the words surge from his mouth, as if he can’t spit them out fast enough, as if they need to be heard, immediately, clawed their way to freedom and left his throat raw. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” your fingers interlace with his, palms pressing together tightly, the silver cuffs shackling his wrists scraping against the metal tabletop.

“It’s fucking hell in here without you,” he admits, eyes downcast, calloused fingers playing with your own, folding and unfolding them. “I keep thinking about the day I’ll finally get out of here, the day when I’ll finally be able to be with you, to have you, but then I remember...It’s still years away.” 

He looks up, eyes suddenly bright, shining through a torrent of tears in that special way that is so uniquely him. 

“But the photos help. The photos help a lot.” His voice is husky, bordering on a ragged whine, and his knees bump against yours again. “I’m sure they’re nothing compared to your body, but...”

“I’m glad I can help, Tora-nii,” you whisper, gazing at him through your lashes, his stare too brilliant to meet head-on, to hold for an extended period of time. 

“Still so shy, my precious little sister,” a knuckle traces the curve of your cheek, the line of your jaw, the bow of your lips, topaz eyes enraptured by its trajectory. “Will you still be this shy when I...”

And he can’t even say it, either—too vulgar, too naughty, too illicit to even be uttered in the breath between the two of you.

He swallows thickly, his words turned hoarse, raw, steeped in sick desire. “I hope you are.”

“Kazutora,” you whimper, sounding more like a plead to continue than an order to stop. 

“Sorry, I'm sorry,” he clears the grit from his voice. “I—I can’t wait to see what you’ve got for me this week, baby.”

Pricks of heat ripple across your face and you duck your head, nodding to yourself as you pull a hand free from his, sifting through your bag for the small collection of polaroids tied prettily with a piece of silk ribbon.

You’d think, after doing this for so many years, that you’d be used to it by now, but it still feels just as grimy and gross as it did three years ago, when he had begged you for a few photos—nothing crazy, he had promised, nothing too wicked or sinful, just a bikini photo or two, that’s all. 

That’s all he needs, he said, swore up and down, cross his heart, pinky promise. 

You were fucking stupid to have believed him. 

Because that’s never all he needs, when it comes to Kazutora. 

Because it won’t ever be truly enough; no matter how much of yourself you give to him, no matter how many shards of your body and slivers of your soul he pries from you, he’ll always crave more, devouring piece after piece until he’s consumed you fully, made you whole, made you one.

Please, sweetheart, I’m going fuckin’ crazy in here, he had told you with tears in his eyes, hands grasping yours so tightly your knuckles cracked, only a few months later. I—I’m so lonely, and I miss you so much, and I’m just so sad and, really, this is the least you could do to make your big brother feel a bit better, isn’t it?

A few pairs of panties and a single naked picture—you could part with those, couldn’t you? You wouldn’t miss those too much, would you? 

Of course not. 

The panties were short-lived—they were too stringy to be considered safe, and someone had already stolen a pair and tried to strangle another inmate with them, but the polaroids were deemed harmless, and so the polaroids stayed.

And so the polaroids grew, in numbers and in frequency, until you were delivering up to ten in one visit, doing your best to take into account all of Kazutora’s requests, as outlined in his previous letter from the week before.

And even though nothing will ever truly be enough for him, you continue striving to please him anyway; diligent, dedicated, desperate. 

Because you’re a good little sister, a kind little sister, an obedient little sister, the best little sister, he’s told you several times now—over this very table when you slip the polaroids across the scratched up metal surface; breathed out as a broken little whine into the phone receiver during his weekly two minute phone calls, when he inconspicuously stains the inside of his jumpsuit with thick, hot cum; in his letters, scrawled across the soiled page in his sloppy handwriting, when he details all of the things he wants to do to you, when he responds to all of the things you said you’d do to him.  

The guards know, of course—you’re pretty sure they know all of it, all about the nasty, naughty pictures you routinely deliver to your nii-san every Monday, the grotesque phone calls the two of you have perfected, the devilish letters you send one another, filled with vile thoughts and foul promises. 

You’re pretty sure they get off on it, too. They must; why else would they allow it to continue otherwise? 

The notion inspires a rush of shameful thrills to shoot through you, leaving your blood tingling and your chest giddy and heat seeping through the floor of your tummy, and you know it does the same for Kazutora, too. He’d at least try to hide it better if it didn’t. You know he would. 

And as perverted and nefarious as it all is, as horrible and sordid as you feel, it’d be a lie if you said you didn’t look forward to taking those photographs every week for him, if you said you didn’t feel a dizzying anticipation when coming up with new poses and angles, if you said you didn’t anxiously await his weekly letter, eager to know his thoughts, to read his praise.

Your big brother is a sick, depraved man.

He always has been.

You’ve always known it, because you are a sick, depraved little girl, too. 

You may not share blood, but those family roots run deep, twisted and tangled at the pits of your souls, irrevocably knotted so long ago that they’ve fused into one mangled mass, unable to be undone. 

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.  

Neither would he. 

[xaeethebaee]

Shuji x Shortcake Chapter Five

Chapter Warnings: This chapter is quite tame other than some cussing, vomiting, and Hanma being a little possessive.

Disclaimer: All characters are at least 20 years old.

A/n: The long-awaited reunion is finally here!

Word Count: 3.4k (I still don't know the purpose of this. I just see everyone else does it lol)

Chapter Five

Slowly but surely, the effects of the drug are wearing off. It has gotten weak enough which allows you to regain some of your senses although, you’re still a bit dazed. Your brain barely manages to register an odor that eerily resembles the stench of cigarettes. Your eyes crack open and through the darkness and haziness of your vision, you notice the unfamiliarity of the environment you are in.

It took some time, but you’ve regained your consciousness, immediately noticing your body wrapped in a quilt. Despite the raging headache, you wiggle your arms and legs in an attempt to set yourself free. That is proven harder than anticipated due to the residual effects of the drug. During your feeble attempt to escape, you unintentionally start rolling your body, which made you realize the tightness of the quilt loosens up a bit.

Using that revelation, you continue to roll more, not realizing the edge of the bed is quickly approaching. In no time, you fall on the floor causing you to grunt in slight pain. On the bright side, you’ve been set free by the stuffy material. Relief immediately turns into panic upon seeing that your dress has been discarded, with the only thing left on you is your underwear. Your heart shatters into pieces assuming the worst has happened to you while you were asleep.

The last thing you remember was being on the dance floor when you were drugged, and now you’ve woken up inside of a messy bedroom. Looking around, all you see are the black walls adorned by photos of landmarks from across the world, and empty bottles. Additionally, you see a black hoodie, lying next to you. Even though you’re reluctant to do so, you take the clothing and pull it over your head to cover your nude body.

All of a sudden, a loud pop was heard. The pop sounds eerily similar to a gun firing further convincing you that you are still in a dangerous environment - most likely still at the Haitani house. Hearing that made you lose more hope; therefore, the only thing you can do is continue to cry.

Your body shakes in fear as you can no longer contain your emotions. Tears flow down your cheeks like a river and things are not made any better once you feel an uncomfortable sensation in your body. That sensation stems from nausea which is hastily followed by the urge to regurgitate the toxins within your body.

Getting on your feet, your vision goes dizzy nearly making you vomit on the spot. You remain in control of your body until you spot an open door, leading into a dark area. You march to it and realized it is the bathroom which is just as messy as the bedroom, however, you do not care as getting to the toilet is your highest priority.

In no time, you lift the seat before leaning your face over the bowl. Instantly, vomit rushes out of you while one of your hands frantically pulls back strands of your hair. You are constantly gagging from the disgusting smell of alcohol mixed in with stomach acid along with partially digested food you ate prior to arriving at the party. Feeling disgusted and absolutely heartbroken from the situation you’re in, you cannot help the intense sobbing from releasing.

You’ve spent a few minutes leaning on the toilet while using the back of your hand to wipe your mouth as well as running snot. Through your cries, the urge to throw up returns. Immediately, leaning over the toilet seat, you let out more vomit, violently gagging from how nasty you feel. 

You’re a broken and emotional mess at this point as you have completely lost hope. Releasing more vomit, a few strands of your hair fall in front of your face, but before you could move it out of the way, a masculine hand does it for you. The grip on your hair tightens; however, you’re too preoccupied with vomiting out the rest of the poison from your body to say anything. That does not stop you from noticing a figure kneeling beside you. 

Constant cries leave you as your vision is blurred by tears, and you barely notice your back is being rubbed. Despite that, you gag again from trying to cough out the rest of the poison from your body. Vomit rushes out of your body once again, and this time it feels like you’ve been completely cleansed from the toxins. Clarity sets in and you take in a deep breath, in an attempt to calm your nerves.

“It’s okay, Shortcake.”

A soft yet deep voice enters your eardrums, immediately causing your heart to pump erratically. The voice was unfamiliar to you; however, it was the name the man muttered that sent sparks around your body. There was only one person in your life who called you Shortcake, and he is someone who you have not seen or heard from in more than ten years.

Regaining your composure, you slowly turned your head to face the individual that is behind you. To your surprise, a pair of soft golden orbs peer back at your e/c ones, while you swiftly recognize a familiar piece of gold jewelry dangling from his ear. 

“My necklace…?”

You croak, voice hoarse due to the constant vomiting and crying. The man pulls you into an embrace, rocking your body back and forth. Although there is a smell of cigarettes, you’ve managed to distinguish that from the familiar natural scent of the man holding you. All this combined was enough to convince you that the person whose arms are wrapped protectively around you is none other than Shuji Hanma.

“Shu?”

You ask him for confirmation, and the man just nods with a smile.

“Long time, no see, Shortcake.”

That moment of confirmation was enough to overshadow the despair you were feeling. Your arms wrap around him as you snuggle your face into his chest, crying softly. 

It has been more than a decade - more than ten years - since the last time you hugged Hanma so tightly. That same morning was the last time you saw your childhood best friend. That same friend who protected you kept you warm during the winters and told you corny jokes. He is the same friend who’d you have a teasing match with. Additionally, Shuji Hanma was someone who you trusted with your life, and he felt the same way about you.

“I’ve missed you!”

You’ve blurted out though much of it was muffled because your face is buried in his chest. Hanma nonetheless heard and understood exactly what you said; therefore, he hugs you tighter as if he is afraid you’ll be whisked away by the wind. 

“I’ve missed you too.” He says, wasting no time returning the sentiment.

It was not long before you slowly separated your face from his chest to take a breath. That is when you noticed a wet spot along with a strand of snot on the shirt Hanma is wearing. It is the same spot you had your face snuggled against as you cried. Through your soft sobs came laughter as you frantically start rubbing your hand over the spot.

“I’m so sorry, Shu! I didn’t mean to do that.”

Shuji just chuckles at how adorable you look as you try cleaning his borrowed shirt. The man just gently grabs your wrist forcing you to stop.

“It’s okay.” He says softly while rubbing his calloused thumb over your hand.

Your eyes look at Punishment that is adorning his hand. You smile to yourself as you think back to when Shuji wanted to get a tattoo to which you suggested Kanji characters. Right before you were about to reminisce with Hanma about that day and talk about his tattoo, you notice blood leaking from his arm. Your smile immediately drops and concern for him washes over your body. Shuji notices your change in demeanor as soon as it happens.

“Oh my God, Shu. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Nothing serious.”

Hanma just says, brushing off the obvious gunshot wound. He can see that you are still showing concern, so he slowly stands up. Gently, he pulls you to your feet, and then guides you to his bathroom sink. You watch as he clears off space on the sink.

“Hop on it so I can get you cleaned up.”

He demands; however, you look up at him with a confused expression. Shuji just heaves out a deep chuckle before wrapping his uninjured arm around your waist forcing you to sit on the counter. You gasp, surprised by his strength, but you only just adjusted yourself into a comfortable seated position.

While Shuji grabs clean washcloths from a nearby cabinet, you took the time to piece some things together. Firstly, you always knew Hanma was a problem child as he always got into fights, hung out with delinquent kids, and even smoke a cigarette here and there. Your brain then flashes back to just a few days ago during your night shift - that same night when your work friend invited you to the Haitani party. That man who had that chilling smile on his face when you were serving his meal was no doubt Hanma, and Hanma was sat at the table with none other than the Kanto Manji Gang. 

The realization hits you like a truck although, you are not entirely surprised by it. Hanma was not surprised either when he sees that your facial expression and body language has shifted significantly. He sees that you’ve become tenser, so he approaches you carefully. He stands in front of the sink while you’re sitting on the counter next to him, waiting on him to break the awkward silence that filled the bathroom.

The man just run both washcloths under the running warm water. After that, he hands you one of the damp washcloths with a smirk on his face.

“We got a lot to talk about.” He states in a matter-of-fact tone.

There is no doubt in Shuji’s mind that you have pieced together his involvement with Tokyo’s most dangerous gang. A foreboding emotion filled his body even when he was dabbing at the gunshot wound on his arm. Despite the sharp pain emanating from his attempt at cleaning his wound, the unnerving feeling of your reaction to his gang involvement was what made him more uncomfortable.

He is a very violent man after all. The two mutilated bodies in the downstairs guest bedroom are proof enough. Hanma also knows that he isn’t exactly ‘sane’ either. Both of these alone could be enough to scare you away from him. He wouldn’t know what to do if he lost the person he has cared about for so many years. In fact, you are just one of two people he cared about, with the other person dying not too long ago. Hanma knows he cannot let you leave his life too especially after it is so soon since you two reunited.

“Shu?” Your soft voice pierced through his ears which was enough to bring him out of his trance.

Hanma did not realize he was bestowing a dark expression on his face until you brought him back to reality. You begin to contemplate what you were about to ask him as a very important question comes to mind. What happened to you since you were drugged? Although, you believe you have a pretty good idea about what happened considering how you woke up in Hanma’s bed, naked. A part of you cannot fathom the possibility of your childhood best friend taking advantage of you like that, hence your hesitation to ask him.

Instead of anything coming out of your mouth, you just use the damp cloth in your hand to wipe your face. Your free hand hugs your other arm in a self-soothing manner as you fight to hold back more tears from coming out. You did not even notice your body shaking due to your state of mind.

“You didn’t get raped.” Shuji suddenly says with a blank face, catching you off guard.

You quickly look at him with disbelieving eyes. There is no other explanation as to why you’d wake up naked after being drugged. You shake your head, allowing more tears to flow from your eyes. Scared, you start speaking with a shaky voice:

“Shu, I-”

“I made sure nothing happened to you.” Hanma cuts you off.

Both of you are locked in a fierce staring contest. The words you want to speak are trapped in your throat upon seeing the earnest look on his face. It’s been years, but you remember that face. It’s rare when Shuji Hanma is serious about something, and this moment is no different.

“I got to you just before anything happened.”

The man reassures, leaning closer to you. His Sin hand caresses your cheek using his thumb to wipe the tears flowing down it. Hanma couldn’t help but gaze at your quivering lips before looking back into your e/c eyes. The room is silent but a thick mist of tension fills the air as you two continue to stare each other down. Your mind is still in somewhat of a haze because of the turn of events from tonight and the same can be said about Hanma. 

“Shortcake?”

He calls for you in a low growl, sending shivers down your spine and between your legs.

“Yea, Shu?” You answer back, making him feel the same sensation.

There is another long pause as you anticipate what the tall man is about to say. He just smiles softly while leaning even closer to your face. You prepare for what is about to come, even closing your eyes in the process. Unintentionally, your lips pucker.

Hanma presses his lips against yours sending sparks throughout his body. For so long, he has been wanting to kiss you, but he never had the chance to do it. Now you’re right in front of him, in a vulnerable position. He couldn’t contain himself, especially after feeling so much joy after officially reuniting with you. He’s been watching you from afar for far too long, and he wanted - needed - to be with his best friend again. He wanted - needed - you in his arms again. 

Your hands feel his toned chest as he deepens the kiss. Your repressed emotions are finally spilling out once you let out a quick whimper. Hanma wastes no time sliding his tongue into your mouth. His free hand rub on your thigh, feeling your soft s/c skin against his rough fingers.

All of a sudden, loud knocking is heard from Hanma’s bedroom door. The knocking is quickly followed up by a rough tone of voice:

“HANMA! GET YOUR FUCKING ASS OUT HERE!”

The loud noise startles both of you. Hanma separates from you before letting out a chuckle. He pats your head as you have a look of worry and fear.

“Don’t be alarmed. It’s just Shion Madarame. He’s harmless.”

Shuji says as he finishes cleaning up his gunshot wound while Shion continues to bang on the door. The man then goes back into his bedroom before opening the door, finding a feisty Shion on the other side.

“Mikey needs you down in the basement. We’re about to interrogate that woman.” He says.

“Why? We already know she’s part of Brahman. What more information do we need?” Hanma rhetorically asks.

“There were reports that she came here with another woman. That woman is nowhere to be seen AND the guards confirmed that she didn’t leave here.”

Hanma just laughs, knowing the woman Shion is referring to is you. His laughter just annoys the light-haired man, prompting him to breathe out in rage.

“Wow. So angry.” Hanma gaslights and he resumes his laughter.

From the bathroom, you can vaguely hear the conversation going on between Hanma and the other man. Curious, you get down from the sink before poking your head out of the room. You notice Shuji is engaged in a conversation with another man, who looks unhappy. That man, spot you spying.

“So that’s what you’ve been up to?!”

The man asks Shuji with an annoyed tone. He turns around and looks at you with a soft yet amused expression. He then looks back at Shion.

“Yea. We’re getting cleaned up, now leave. I’ll be down there in a few.”

Hanma tries shutting the door but the man on the other side stops it with his hand that is adorned with brass knuckles.

“She matches the description of the woman that came here with the Brahman bitch. You’re harboring a person of interest.”

You can practically feel the dangerous aura radiating from that man Shuji is talking to. You sink back into the bathroom but Hanma’s demanding voice stops you.

“Shortcake? Come here.”

Although reluctant, you emerge from the bathroom and slowly made your way to the door. Your anxiety starts to spike once again realizing this is another member of the Kanto Manji Gang that you’ll be facing. Despite this man being shorter than Hanma, he looks more intimidating to you. As soon as you arrive at the door, you mostly hide behind Hanma’s body as you can feel the other man’s gaze searing through your skin.

“This is Shion. As I said, he is harmless. And Shion, this is Y/n. She’s harmless too.” Hanma introduces you two.

There is a moment of silence before Shion crosses his arms.

“She came here with that Brahman bitch.”

Hearing those words reminded you about your work friend. Since seeing her with Ran Haitani, you haven’t heard anything about her. Your mind starts thinking of the worst that may have occurred, so you’re once again filled with concern.

“Shortcake, do you have any involvement with Brahman?”

The black and blonde-haired man asks, catching you off guard. You’re confused as you’ve never heard of Brahman before; therefore, you truthfully answer ‘no’.

“There. You got the answer you needed.”

Hanma tries closing the door again but Shion blocks it, this time more aggressively.

“Fuck that! You’re just gonna take her word for it!?” He asks.

“Yea.”

Came Hanma’s plain response, reinforcing the fact that Hanma fully trusts you, so it was easy to believe you.

“Mikey would never accept that! We need her down there too!”

The smile on Hanma’s face fades away slightly, showing that he too is getting annoyed. He puts his arm over your shoulders in a protective manner.

“I have every reason to believe she has zero involvement with Brahman.”

“Where’s the proof?” Shion asks, grinding his teeth in frustration.

Hanma’s smile has completely faded away and it is replaced by a glare. He stares down Shion Madarame with killing intent.

“Either you bring her downstairs so Mikey can question her or I’ll call him and tell him that you are harboring her in your room. You know that means he’ll come up here with his coke-addict henchman Sanzu, and they’ll retrieve her by any means necessary.” Shion threatens.

“Fucking snitch.” Hanma curses.

Shion just smiles knowing he has forced Shuji into a compromising position. The taller man thinks over the options given to him. Neither of them is ideal; however, one is remarkably worse than the other. The last thing he wants is for you to be this close to the rest of the Kanto Manji Gang - not because of how ruthless they are. His possessiveness wouldn’t cope with the idea of you being around them knowing the possibilities of how the other guys would act towards you.

On one hand, bringing you down of your own volition could be the best option as it’ll lead Mikey and the rest of the guys to believe you aren’t a threat. That means they’ll see you as no other than some whore - or worse, an innocent friend they can attach to. On the other hand, having Sanzu drag you downstairs will cast unneeded suspicion on you. That will cause them to think you are a threat, which could lead to you being killed or used as a slave. It did not take long for Shuji to decide.

“Fine. I’ll bring her down there to meet everyone else after we get cleaned up.” He begrudgingly agrees.

“Good. I’ll meet you there.” Shion just smirks before taking a longing look at you.

Hanma swiftly notices his lingering stare, taking the opportunity to hastily slam the door in his face. Both of you listen to Shion’s fading footsteps until he is no longer around. That allowed you to release a breath that you did not know you were holding.

Looking down at you, Hanma just smiled before asking in a fake enthusiastic tone:

“Ready to meet the rest of the Kanto Manji Gang?”

He asks you, causing your heart to sink into your stomach. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[If you're wondering why Hanma wasn't hesitant to introduce Reader to Shion, it is because Hanma thinks Shion is too pathetic to pose a threat.]

A/n: I'll be taking a short break as I have another story (A super Smutty one) with Draken that I really want to write. If you want to be on the taglist for that one, just let me know.

Taglist:

@510hz @reiners-milkbiddies @sleeplessreader

[red-letter-imagines]

SLIGHTLY NSFW!!! MDNI

Random Thirst of the Day:

TOKYO REVENGERS' PREFERRED MAKEOUT TYPES (HAITANI BROTHERS, WAKASA)

Ran:

Ran prefers to have his partner straddle him. He loves how they cling to him like a koala, warm thighs squeezing his waist and hands massaging his neck or the base of his scalp.

Loves to cradle his partner's face between his large hands, stroke their hair and sometimes tickle just under their jaw for a giggle. Prone to give butterfly kisses to the tip of their nose too.

Moderate tongue, not too wet, but definitely French. He has experience, and knows what he likes.

Gets weak when his tongue is sucked, or is lightly grazed by teeth.

Vocal, and groans a lot, even whines when he's particularly needy.

His most favorite type of kiss is a giggly, smiley one 😊 it lets him know that his partner's having fun, and it warms his heart knowing that he's entertaining them in every way.

Tug on his braids a little, and he's putty.

Can go for hours if he can

Rindou

Prefers to trap his partner against something, like a wall or his bed. Places his glasses atop his head or his partner's so it won't get smashed between them.

Doesn't know where to put his hands, so they're just everywhere: neck, shoulders hips, ass, thighs, then back again. Loves it when he's chest-to-chest with his partner.

A l o t of tongue, and it gets pretty messy. Don't mistake it for inexperience though, he just finds it easier to move and it feels good when there's um... adequate lubrication.

Hair pulling or a light scratch to his jugular gets him going, and there's a 90% chance of leading to something more.

Grunts and sighs a lot, sometimes mumbles words mid-kiss.

His favorite type of kiss is when he's come back from a fight victorious, and goes straight to his partner for a celebratory liplock, when his adrenaline is still pumping, and the kiss is practically just two tongues licking each other.

Run a finger down his chest tattoo, and he's up, if u know what I mean 👀

If it goes on for longer than an hour, it's straight to bed 🛏️.

Wakasa

Likes his makeout sessions laying down and in private. Doesn't matter who's on top, so long as they can both be as relaxed as possible.

Usually holds his partner's face and embraces their waist. He just adores how they just curl up to him, as if they were made to be there 😊

Amount of tongue varies. He's a bit of a tease, and can never stick to one way of kissing. He likes to pull on his partner's lower lip, and smirks when he gets a whine in return. Also quite experienced, and crazily attentive so he's very flexible.

Licking his lips, playing with his hair or moaning his name into the kiss are sure-fire ways to rile him up.

Talks a lot while kissing, mostly just adoring gibberish, or their partner's name or petname. Some I love yous are thrown in from time to time too.

His all time favorite kiss is a candy kiss, where a piece of candy is passed between them by tongue. The kiss becomes so much sweeter in every sense of the word; he always has some candy in his pockets for this sole reason.

The more his partner moans his name, the friskier he gets.

He likes to make a pastime out of making out, so he can go for hours.

Thirst.