Sata Jones Imagine: |verified|

He broke the kiss just long enough to look down at you. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. “You drive me insane, you know that?”

He kissed you then. It wasn’t gentle. It was hungry, desperate, like he was trying to memorize the shape of your mouth. You grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer until he toppled forward, caging you against the couch cushions. sata jones imagine

You were sitting on his leather couch, your legs tucked beneath you, watching him. He stood by the window, the low light carving sharp lines into his jaw. He wasn’t wearing his usual flashy stage clothes, just a plain black tee and grey sweatpants. His dreads were pulled back, exposing the corded muscles of his neck. He broke the kiss just long enough to look down at you

“Good,” you whispered, pulling him back down. It wasn’t gentle

“Like you belong to me.”

Outside, the X-Day countdown continued. The world was falling apart. But here, in the devil’s hour, tangled up in the arms of Shinjuku’s most dangerous man, you had never felt safer in your life.