JJK, CSM, Naruto, AOT(soon), and more wait for you in the Masterlist
but here are some of my Personal Favorites
All my work is my own, the characters belong to their various creators. But they are not to be published onto any other platforms, or reproduced in anyway, all work present here and in the future is made with no input from AI (sad i even have to write that)
My requests and asks are open! if I don't take your requests, please don't take it personally. I really primarily write for myself, so if a prompt doesn't call to me, I wont take it. Don't be afraid to stop by to chat, either!<3
I do polls fairly often to see what y'all want going forward, or how you want things to be released. I want this to be a dialogue friendly space above all else. We're in a fan community after all!
Happy pride month!!! Everyone be gay! Being gay is the best thing that ever happened to me. I love being queer. I love my queer life. I love my queer friends. I want to be queer in every life!
Please celebrate being gay today! Trans your gender! Kiss outside of your traditional gender binaryâs expectations! Buy drinks for trans people! BE GAY! Be gay! YOU ARE GAY now! BE GAY! Yay!!
Thinking about sucking Kishibeâs soft cock when heâs too drunk to get it up.
Your sweet, soft tongue lapping over the mound of unshaped clay between his spread legs. Tasting the organic mineralogy of his skin; sweat and musk all hypnotizing you on your knees below him.
He lays back on the bed, head swimming in booze, his pants hurriedly pulled open and down just barely past his hips before you dropped onto your knees between his legs and began your sweet torture.
The alcohol, or his age, or who knows what the fuck else had ravaged his bloodstream and made it short to circulate and make his desire actually fucking useful to you. So here he laid, drunk and soft, lamenting his useless-- or he thought so. Until you drug your hands down his body to his belt, unbuckling fervently with your vixen eyes watching him begin to spill excuses.
"baby...I can't-- come on...had too much---don't"
But you press further, humming with the satisfied purr that usually only came out once you had him full mast and dripping.
"I don't care if you don't." You lick your glossy lips and watch him through dark, fluffy lashes.
Kishibe's breath is humid with drunken desire, he feels a shiver of anxiety. He hasn't been nervous in bed for twenty years, but the sight of you, inching your tongue toward his flaccid cock makes his heart pound against his ribs. He feels a twin heartbeat in his cock, certain that your tongue can feel it as close as it is.
"hmmm?" You coo, extending your tongue in a cute little point.
He can't deny you. He can't deny himself. Whether others would believe it, he does think himself a gentleman, and to just take from a lady goes against what he believes in. Or what he usually believes in. But he's putty underneath you, he couldn't deny it if he wanted to. And without the usual indicator of his want, he has to tell you himself. He releases a wimpy sigh and nod before keening backwards with one arm draping across his eyes. The wavy swirl of drunkeness sinks him into the mattress as he feels the wet flesh of your tongue run the median line from the inside of one thigh, across the sleepy genitalia, to his other thigh.
You purse your lips together in a small O, letting thin spit run forward freely, wetting his lap. He groans above you, you are delighted to see him writhe beneath you. You look up at him on the bed, wishing you could see the blush he hid under his elbow. But you preoccupied yourself elsewhere, resting your cheek on his thigh and extending your tongue playfully to kitten lick the pinprick hole at the head of his cock. You don't know if your expect it to twitch toward you, but it stays stationary. Tucked to the left, facing you, like it wants to kiss you again but can't break the ice. You do the gallant thing and lean forward, wrapping your lips around the tip and letting your tongue flick across the curve. Kishibe's arm falls to the bed, the other hand reaching for your hair.
You open your mouth and slide your tongue along the truncated shaft of his cock. Thin, wrinkled skin sagging and being pulled by even the gentlest of touches. The cruel, devastating length that he normally operates with is unrecognizable in this state. Only a few inches, hiding in his dark, barely tended pubic hair. Small, shy cock sitting atop full, desperate balls that now dwarf the usual star of the show. You want to reward them, so you slide your self down further, running the back of your tongue down the seam of his sack. You take one into your mouth, feeling the testis veiled in thin, fragile skin. Your tongue maps out its circumference, feels its weight-- then compares its twin.
The floppy, spit soaked cock paints your face in your own drool and you relish in the sight you must be. Imagining yourself from his perspective. Now that you can see him watching you from above, now that you can hear his breathing become heavy and filled with wimpy, low vocalizations. You let his balls fall heavy from your mouth, opening it limply to run your face along the slack length of his cock. Its own sticky leak and your residual spit coating your face in a dewy, syrupy glow.
Kishibe tries to sit up, having to use one hand to support himself up, but he has to see more of you. He has to watch you. Your eyes are rolling back as you slather yourself with his cock, his pre cum, your spit. He finds himself spitting, perhaps out of jealousy that only your spit got to be on your face, or maybe in a sick way he was helping. He sees the foamy white spit hit your face and for a moment he stalls completely. And then your smile, a blissful, closed eye smile of total satisfaction.
You reward him with a full face stroke of his feeble "erection", as the lowest parts have begun to attempt a constrictive foundation. But the remaining tissue can't be persuaded.
As though choreographed, you take him into your mouth fully, as his hands now rest on either side of your head. Kishibe is sitting up now, his back at attention, because something must be. You think this may be one of the only time you have had the whole of his cock in your mouth so comfortably. Usually you would be gagging an dsputtering, trying to stimulate him with the friction of both hands and your mouth, rather than deep throating. But like this, theres nothing deep. You can feel him just beginning to graze the back of your tongu; the rough, wide tastebuds back there absorbing the cocktail of early arousal and mixed saliva. You roll your eyes back and Kishibe pressed you into his crotch further.
Kishibe can't stop watching you, trying to fight the intoxication that he knows will threaten his memory of this. Experimentally he rolls his hips against your flush mouth. And when you don't gag he feels is sinking mix of satisfaction and depravation. He feels humiliatingly desired.
He spills himself before he even realizes he was close. Hell, he didn't even know cumming this soft was possible.
Neither did you, but you prayed, and some sick god of perversion has answered you. His hands tighten around your head, pressing your nose into his pelvis. You try to inhale but can barely draw breath between skins. Drools drips from your lower lip, onto your knee, and onto the floor below you.
Kishib's face scrunches and a low, crackling groan rips from his chest. Finally he relents on your head and you can pull off to breathe again. You swallow and lick your lips eager for any you might have missed.
You stare up at him from your position on the floor and he, too, looks down to you; awe and confusion, and sex hanging between you like sheer curtains that still allow the glow of evening sunset to bleed onto the floor in large, thrown patterns.
You pant, spit and cum and sweat salting your tongue. Sullying your face, your chin, beginning to spoil down your neck. You wait for his next move.
When a certain asshole at your bar earns himself a spit filled cocktail, Kishibe can't keep himself from requesting to "Have what he's having".
Warnings: SPIT, A LOT OF SPIT, sex, smut, sex on the bar, missionary, cowgirl, lotus, drinking, smoking, flirting, banter, SPIT, talking about kishibe's scar, breast play, female reader, clothes ripping, sex in public (kinda), DID I MENTION SPIT??????, feelings (yuck),
WC: 11.5k Ao3.
âI saw you.â The man at the bar spoke evenly, holding your gaze, delighting in how your eyes narrowed in confusion.Â
âWhat?â You cocked your head, trying to appear nonchalant despite your heartbeat moving to your neck.Â
 âI saw you spit in that guy's drink.â a sick little smirk curled the scarred side of his face.Â
Your heart stopped, your skin went cold, you saw yourself getting fired, getting yelled at, maybe even arrested. The manâs face was so casual, almost delighted. But there was a danger in his eyes that you couldnât identify. You didnât have anything to say, you had given up on playing coy, he caught you, there was no point in trying to lie or hide it. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the bartop.Â
âThat guy was an asshole. Do I have to be an asshole to get that, or can I just order one from you?âÂ
Your brain couldn't piece it together fast enough. It was only seconds, but it felt like your thoughts stalled for a whole hour; replaying the sentence over and over again in your head.Â
He wants you to---
He wants a drink with---
He wants you--
Oh.
Oh!Â
Oh.
He wants you to spit in his drink.Â
It had been a shit night. An absolutely shit night. When you arrived at the bar it was packed, the day shift had had almost no time to clean or prep for the night shift. Glasses unpolished, beer and wine fridge totally empty, trash cans overflowing, no clean rags to be found, garnish tray empty. In the first hour of your shift you were busting your ass just to catch up, not to mention serving the seemingly never ending line of customers. It was a Thursday night for god sakes, was there a holiday or something this weekend you had forgotten about?Â
To make matters worse, a massive party came in. It must have been a stag do or a bachelorâs party or a birthdayâŠor some other nasty excuse men use to go out and get shit faced and cause problems. As soon as they entered, you and your co-bartender locked eyes, a commiserative look that required no explanation. You both knew your night was fucked. More fucked than it had been already. The volume of the bar sky rocketed, the temperature became humid and sweaty, the general displeasure of the customer base similarly soared. Your regulars became irritated, some of your best customers tabbed out early and left, giving apologetics looks to the both of you as they left. The swarm of rowdy boys circled the bar, whistling and snapping for your attention. Even if they had been the nicest, chillest customers in the world, snapping and whistling was unacceptable in your bar. Their first strike.Â
The second strike was the birthday boy practically eye fucking you when you delivered him his vodka redbull. Of course it was a vodka redbull.Â
âWhat's a sexy thing like you doing here? We just came from the strip club, youâd fit right in. I bet if I gave you a referral theyâd hire you.â He was already slurring his words, dripping with disgusting intent.Â
You set his drink down in front of him, âYeah? You a big spender over there?âÂ
He grinned sloppily and nodded, âOh yeah.â
âI have no doubt.â You pushed off the counter and turned back to the rest of the bar.Â
And you heard him scoff over your shoulder, and you thought you heard him mumble in your direction, âWhateverâŠbitch.âÂ
But in the interest of the sizable payout that you could get from this party, you swallowed your rage and offered the benefit of the doubt.Â
But what was too far, was when the primary asshole and one of his minions started harassing your coworker. Whistling at her as she was shaking a martini, making lewd motions with their hands, flicking their tongues at her. Seeing red you moved to intervene but she stopped you, encouraging you to just let it go and pretend it didnât matter. Last time you had gotten into with a customer, your manager almost fired you. Even though the guy was being a creep and making all the servers and bartenders uncomfortable, you were the one who was at risk of losing your job. And now your coworker was the one having to endure more of the bullshit because your managers didnât care to protect you.Â
So you decided to take things into your own hands. Covertly.Â
Birthday Boyâs next drink would be a special one, one you made yourself, one you made with a very special secret ingredient. Letting a long, gross, frothy string of spit down into the vodka and ice, stirring twice and before topping it with a fresh redbull. It looked identical to any other drink you had made, but you thought you could see it glow radioactive. The hate simmering to the top like carbonation. You passed it across the bar with a marathonerâs heart, sliding forward the condensating drink, your spit likely already commingling with the liquor dewing the glass. The lech before you, none the wiser, accepted the drink. Nasty praises dripping like from his alcohol soaked lips, before taking a long, indulgent sip of his tainted drink.Â
Kishibe was in love. He was at the corner of the bar, giving him a perfect view behind the bar. He watched as you talked to the young buck that had already leered at you too many times for Kishibeâs liking, and it wasnât as though Kishibe wasnât doing any leering of his own. He was at least being subtle about it. He marked how your body tensed when he spoke to you, the colossal eye roll that you gave when you turned your back. But he could still see you make the drink, he could see you purse your lips, and spit right down into the Collins glass in front of you. He couldnât contain his delight. Pants responding and shrinking, mouth becoming drooly, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.Â
He watched you turn, satisfied with the venom you leeched into your unsuspecting preyâs beverage. He would likely never know you had done this, it wasnât harmless, nothing even close to kind, but it was your own act of defiance against his harassment. Something that wouldnât stand to rile him up and potentially escalate to the point of potential violence, but something that perfectly demonstrated how he had preyed upon your boundaries. Kishibe was impressed, he didnât expect you to go that far.
But Kishibe, sick as he was, couldnât deny that something else lurked underneath his sense of pride.Â
Envy
Roiling, hot, slick envy churned behind his navel. Making his chest heat and his hands go cold. The drink in front of him may as well have been sand. Suffocating, drying sand that would never quench his thirst. Not when he had seen the oasis before him. Were it to have been a mirage, it would have been well worth the journey, to live in the fantasy that he may be able to taste from those illusory, sacred, secret waters that sprung up before him.Â
This was the opportunity he had been waiting for. Sitting in this bar, night after night, watching and waiting. Itâs not like he was a pervert--erâ wellâ-itâs not like he was desperate. He didnât struggle the way his peers did to find sexual partners, he had a carefully worked charm that he knew how to flaunt. and minimal as it was, there was always the uniform. And the scar. Even the covetous vanity of youth subsided the day his cheek had torn open. For as the ancient texts said: chicks dig scars.Â
You didnât have an assassin's subtlety, nor were you skilled in timing of stolen glances. You had no poker face to be seen, you couldnât stifle your reflex curling lips and fluttering lashes away from him as he caught one of your dreamy sidelong glances. He knew you wanted him too. And now he knew you were the nasty girl that he prayed you would be. The little shorts and skirts you wore, the ripped tights, the backless tops, the deep necklines, the occasional bruises around your neck that your shitty drugstore concealer could barely hide. He had prayed on his knees (well, something similar) that it wasn't all just for show, or in his head. And now he had confirmation, he knew that you could be the nasty girl of his dreams. And he couldnât wait any longer to see just how far he could take you.Â
So it was the natural next step for him to call you over after his drink was finished, smiling as you so diligently pulled his favorite whiskey from behind the bar. He didnât miss the way your perky, perfect breasts bounced and jiggled as you trotted over to him.Â
âNeed another?â You cocked your head, your heart beat still racing, but no longer in fear, âSorry it's so loud in here, this oneâs on me.â
âYou donât have to do that.â He was touched by your kindness, but he knew once he made his request you very well may revoke this generosity.Â
âPlease, I insist.â You smiled warmly.Â
 Kishibe watched you for a moment, savoring the sight of you before he changed things between you. He swallowed the last of his drink and set it down in front of you.Â
âI saw you.âÂ
âWhat?â Your eyebrows twitched downward, but you tried to keep your face innocuous.Â
âI saw you spit in that guyâs drink.â he watched you carefully, waiting to see how you would react to the empty silence he gave you afterward; if you would try to fill it, or fidget.
Your heart stopped, your skin went cold, you saw yourself getting fired, getting yelled at, maybe even arrested. Could that be considered poisoning? The manâs face was so casual, almost delighted. But there was a danger in his eyes that you couldnât identify. You didnât have anything to say, you had given up on playing coy, he caught you, there was no point in trying to lie or hide it. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the bartop. You felt yourself shrink under his gaze, it felt like he could see through you, further than being naked, like he could see down to your bones, to the marrow within it.Â
âThat guyâs an asshole.â He chuckled, sending a glance over to the asshole, already halfway through your concoction, but he ignored the frustration in favor of charming you, âDo I have to be an asshole to get a drink like that?â
Your brain couldn't piece it together fast enough. It was only seconds, but it felt like your thoughts stalled for a whole hour; replaying the sentence over and over again in your head.Â
He wants you to---
He wants a drink with---
He wants you--
Oh.
Oh!Â
Oh.
He wants you to spit in his drink.
Your heart thumped hard. A mirrored pulse happened between your legs. It was like your whole body was a bell, vibrating as the hammer of his words struck your core. You let out a shaky breath, a soft, shocked moan sounding off with your breath.Â
âWhatâdâyou say?â he cocks his head, watching you closely, âmind giving me somethingâŠoff-menu?âÂ
You shivered again, your eyelids starting to droop, your body feeling fevered, hot and cold all at once. You peeked over your shoulder, the rest of the staff seemed occupied, the customers were busy too. Either drawn out by the rowdy party or keeping to themselves in small groups or in tables toward the back. The bar itself was relatively empty, only a pair of women who had been sharing a bottle of wine and had now moved on to their second, and an older gentleman who had been here every night working his way through a sudoku book. He was fairly close to the end by now, it was honestly impressive. And he was always totally immersed, just as all the conversing patrons were, it was almost certain that no one would see. And fuck, even if they would, you couldnât help the burn that was starting behind your belly. You turned back to him, and he raised his eyebrows, awaiting an answer.Â
You had noticed him more than enough times. The older man in the Public Safety Uniform. He was sexy and stoic, and older and mature and minded his business and sat and drank his whiskey without interruption night after night. Minimal conversations, plenty of eye candy. Dark eyes, sexy uniform, sexier scar. You could just feel the mystery coming off of him from his corner of the bar. You had aâŠproclivity toward older menâŠmaybe you just liked the attention in the past, but this felt different. You would clock his entry into the bar as soon as he crossed the threshold and keep him in your periphery until he left, nodding his head politely at you at the door before departing. It wasnât like you had some kind of crush on him, you were a grown woman, you didnât have crushes. But he did wander into your mind after work more than he should.Â
With this same look in his eye, dangerous and expectant, almost lazy in his expectation. A twinkle in those dark eyes matching his easy faint smile. You pulled a fresh glass forward and set it in front of him. Kishibe felt the warm pride settling in his chest as he watched you prepare.Â
âNeat,â He insisted, leaning forward, making a small partition with his body and arm as he leaned over the counter.Â
You retreated from the ice bin, opting to fill the glass with a heavy handed pour of amber whiskey. It was now or never. Your heart raced, but you caught his eyes again, he was practically drooling, observing you like cells in a petri dish, dangerous, mutating, viral cells that could make this night, make whatever relationship that existed between you two into something hot, dangerous and nasty. You stood the chance to turn him into something he could never understand or control. Or at least, he hoped you would.Â
You leaned over the glass, looking down into the perfect circle of booze waiting for its finishing touch. If only the liquid knew how you were about to defile it. You took another glance around the room.Â
âLook at me.â Kishibe ordered. His voice wasnât harsh or mean, but it was commanding enough to make you obey. What the hell had you gotten yourself into?Â
You gathered the wetness of your mouth, of which there was plenty. Keeping your eyes trained on him, locked on his unmoving black shark-like eyes. He sucked in a breath when you pursed your lips together, and released it slowly in time with the long, clear line of spit that fell from your lips into the glass.Â
Time slowed, but your heart raced. The bar quieted around you, you couldnât believe you were doing this. Again. But before it had been a quick, nasty bout of revenge, this was embarrassing. It felt shameful and dirty and sexy and confusing. You felt desired and demeaned all at once.Â
Kishibe felt his cock push against the front of his slacks as your mouth formed an O, the shine of spit beginning to emerge behind your lips. His eyes trailed down your face to your mouth and paid close attention as the collection of your saliva began to slip. His mouth fell open watching the spit drip down into the drink, foamy, white aerated spit sitting on top of the amber whiskey. Heavier organic matter breaking the surface tension and sinking slowly into the two inches of liquid below.Â
He sucked in a breath, his tongue behind his teeth, twisting, desperate for a taste already. You pulled away, but a spiderâs silk kept you connected to the drink. Kishibe fantasized briefly about lapping at it, letting it curl around his tongue and following its trail all the way up to your mouth. But he stayed seated and watched you wipe your mouth with your thumb, pushing the drink toward him. You hadnât stopped looking at him yet, waiting for him to taste his special request.Â
âGo on. Donât waste it, now.â You teased, feeling a bit emboldened by the haughty look on his face.Â
Remembering himself Kishibe raised his drink to you, as a thank you. You watched as he took a long, focused sip, as though it was the highest top shelf whiskey in the world. Despite it being mid-shelf-even-for-a-shit-bar whiskey and your spit, he treated it like ambrosia and nectar.Â
Kishibe held it on his tongue, the whiskey he knew well, he could parse out every tasting note that didnât belong. Soft mint, from toothpaste or gum, a soft quinine zing of the energy drink you stuffed behind the counter, menthol from the cigarette he watched you step out for earlier, and then that perfect, intangible, unplaceable taste of your mouth, the collections of your teeth, your tongue, your gums, the fleshy bits that you held behind those big, beautiful lips. He hummed, thoughtfully delighted, swallowing the concoction.
âYou can learn a lot by tasting someone.â He looked back at you finally, finding your mouth agape.Â
You can feel the heat of your cheeks, the foot shifting embarrassment settling over all of you. You couldnât believe he really did it, he actually drank it. And he enjoyed it. No! He didnât just enjoy it, he relished it. He tasted every milliliter, analyzed it and committed it to memory right in front of you.Â
If he could have had this packed, sealed, and kept preserved for all eternity, he would open it the moment he left the bar. This taste made him gluttonous, greedy, and selfish. He already felt low burning rage at the knowledge that some other asshole had tasted this before him. But he didnât let it ruin his indulgence.
âYou âought to put that on the menu.â He took another sip, humming again.Â
You leaned forward on the bar, not wanting anyone else to be a part of this moment, although the surrounding bar had really begun to fall away.Â
âSo, you know my name, you come in enough. But despite my manners I donât seem to know yours.â You could hardly believe it yourself, what you had done for a man you didnât even know the name of.
âKishibe.â He extended his free hand to you.Â
You accepted, feeling the skin of his palm against yours. His fingers were cold as the wrapped around yours, giving you a firm shake. You shivered a bit, the heat of the bar being sucked away from you by his chilly grasp.Â
âKishibe.â You nodded, trying it on.Â
âMmm, I like the way you say it.â He was flirting now, flagrantly, obviously; with intention.Â
Your bottom lip caught between your teeth, âIâve seen you here before, Kishibe. How come it took you this long to talk to me?âÂ
He sipped his drink again, smaller, like he was saving it, âDidnât have anything to say yet.â
âHm,â you cocked your head, tongue testing the tip of your canine.Â
âYou donât like that answer?â Kishibe leaned against the back of his stool.Â
Unfettered, you leaned on your elbows filling the gap he left, âI assumed the last few nights that you had just been working up your nerve.â
âYou think you make me that nervous, honey?â Kishibe, in a rare sight, bared his teeth with his smile.Â
âDo I make you nervous, Mr. Kishibe?â You let your eyes flutter as you spoke, letting his name drip from your lips.Â
He hummed at the way his name sounded from you, âNo, you donât make me nervous.âÂ
He sipped again and leaned forward, now much closer to you. So close you could smell his cologne, so close you could smell the smoke clinging to his jacket.Â
âDo I make you nervous?â He watched your eyes bounce around his face, taking in all of his features now that he was closer than he had ever been.Â
âNo.â Your voice didnât sound confident, your breath was weak, taken from you by his counter.Â
He noticed. Of course he noticed. He smiled like he knew it.Â
âNo?â He pressed.Â
âNo.â You steadied, leaning forward even more, feeling his breath on your upper lip.Â
He raised his eyebrows, before leaning back so suddenly you almost fell forward.Â
âYouâre being summoned back.â He flicked his eyes over your shoulder.Â
The bar around you was full of life again, you felt as though you had been in a waking dream and were just now coming to. You looked behind you and saw your fellow barkeep rushing their way through drinks and a slowly, but steadily growing line. But the catalyst for Kishibeâs change in demeanor was standing, hips against the bar, waving a folded note at you and whistling for your attention, shaking the ice in his glass as though he would be at your bar for any reason other than to get a drink. You looked back at Kishibe who was putting a pack of cigarettes back in his jacket, one already between his lips. You felt your chest get hollow because he didnât look back up to you. How on earth had he managed to get you this weak? You shook the last of the trance from your brain before moving to help the rest of the bar.Â
Kishibe excused himself outside, taking his glass. He had had to navigate around the ever drunker throng of young men toward the front, who just couldnât seem to remember how to behave themselves in front of beautiful women who kept bar. Although, he had been worse than they were when he was their age. Maybe he was still worse.Â
It was surprising what he could get away with at this age, that he had struggled to in his twenties and thirties. He was finding that the older he got, the more authority he was given, the less anyone seemed to care about the drinking, or the drugs, or the women, orâŠhim, for that matter. And that really was the root, wasnât it, there were less and less people to know or even care about him in the first place. And those who were still around, hadnât seen how bad it could get, how bad it did get. Or, if they did, if they heard the stories, the rumors, the mythos at this point, he was often regarded with either fear, which he was fine with, or pity, which he absolutely detested. Only incrementally, and increasingly rarely, was he met with genuine regard or interest.Â
But you. With your stolen glances and sparkling eyes. You had noticed when he came and left, regarded him with kindness and returned his curiosity. Looking into the street, he allowed the city lights to bloom into soft focus. He sipped his drink, savoring the taste of you once again. He allowed the liquid to take form; the sliding, muscled form of your tongue against his own. Filling his mouth, being guided by his. Your soft, plump lips against his neck, around his ear, your body quivering in his arms as you pleasured each other.Â
âYou canât have that out here.âÂ
Your voice snapped him back, out of his fantasy. Your hair had fallen a bit more, a soft glow of sweat shone on your breasts and collar bone, they must be working you hard in there. He felt his paints strain again.Â
âYour glass. You canât have that out here. Drinks have to stay inside the bar.â You stepped toward him, from your view it was clear he was not listening to you, âThey sent me out here to make sure youâre not walking out on your check.âÂ
âYou come out here to scold me?â He sipped again, listening to the click of your steps toward him.Â
You laughed a bit, peeking through the front window to see if anyone was watching before stepping past the doorframe toward him, âYeah, this is me scolding you. Do you feel reprimanded?âÂ
âAbsolutely,â He nodded, âIâm terribly sorry. I hope I can do something to earn your forgiveness.âÂ
You bit your bottom lip, having to look down at your feet so you could blush freely. Now that you were both standing, and stepping closer, you realized how tall he was. He must be two meters, you were a terrible judge of height but this was easy to see. You had seen him duck under the front door, but this proximity was something else. You had to crane your neck up to look at him, and when you did you saw the cigarette still hung in his mouth
âYou planning on smoking that?â You gestured, clearing your throat. Â
Kishibe looked down at you, furrowing his brows, âAnd get rid of the taste you worked so hard to give me?â
âMind if I?âÂ
Kishibe shook his head, taking it out of his mouth and offering it to you, filter forward. You wrapped your lips around the filter, letting your top lip brush against his forefinger.Â
âGot a light?â You had left your bag inside and you didn't keep a lighter in your apron.Â
Kishibe smirked and pulled an engraved silver zippo from his breast pocket, âWant me to smoke it for you too?â
He held out the flame for you, watching you lean forward, the flame casting gold shadows up on to your face. Highlighting the soft glitter of your makeup, turning the shadows of your face darker. Your lips glossy and puckered around his cigarette. He clenched his jaw tight, feeling his teeth squeak against one another. He didnât know how much more he could take. Â
You inhaled and recognized the difference immediately. You had never smoked a cigarette like this before. It was blended, tobacco leaves and something softerâŠsomething floral ground together. It was surprising that someone asâŠintimidating and tough looking would smoke a blended cigarette. Your brief glance at the package looked unfamiliar.
 âThese arenât Japanese.â You looked at the dart in your hand, the filter line similarly unfamiliar.Â
âNo,â he raised his eyebrows a bit, impressed with your attention to detail, âTheyâre imported.âÂ
âWhere from?â You took another drag, trying to mentally compare in your head, see if anything felt familiar.Â
âChina.â He took a sip of his drink, it was nearly empty âfriend of mine would only smoke these. Kind of picked up the habit. They sell them at pretty much every smoke shop, nothing too special.âÂ
âIs she your girlfriend?â You wondered aloud, feeling strangely, inappropriately possessive
âNoâŠno girlfriend.â He watched as you nodded thoughtfully about his answer, pulling your lips together and looking down the street.Â
Your cigarette was nearing the halfway point. If he was going to escalate things, he should do so soon.Â
âHow long you been working here?â Kishibe tipped his head toward the bar.Â
âA few years. Itâs a good job, good people. Good enough, I guess. For nowâ You shrugged, âYou work at Public Safety right?â
He nodded.Â
âHow long have youâŠdone that?âÂ
âProbably longer than youâve been alive.â He swallowed down the rest of his drink.Â
You wished that hadnât sounded so delicious. There had to be something really wrong with you to feel yourself get hot at the way he acknowledged the time disparity between you two.Â
âThatâs rare right?â You fought through your arousal to speak again, âto still be devil hunting atâŠâ You trailed off, not wanting to say something potentially offensive.Â
His eyes perked up a bit, a daring smirk finding his lips, âAt my age?â  Â
You laughed a bit relieved at him seeming to have taken it on the chin.
âYeah, I guess. Maybe Iâm just lucky?â He shrugged again, not wanting praise for lasting in a field likeâŠhis.Â
âDo you feel lucky?â, Your cigarette was nearing its end, you would have to go back in soon, if you wanted to escalate things, you would have to do so now.Â
Kishibe looked down at you, those dark, impenetrable eyes holding you still. You couldnât read his face, you couldnât see his answer, you just stayed in his gaze. The space between the two of you felt like molasses, thick and hot and slow. For the second time tonight, time slowed to a halt.Â
âI feel lucky now.â Kishibe moved closer, a single step and reach, one fluid motion, cupping your face and ducking down to press his lips to yours.Â
His first kiss was almost soft, a gentle test of you would pull away. His lips were softer than you had expected. His nose bumped yours, you let your eyes flutter closed. When he separated your lips you opened them again. He could see what his kiss had done to you. Breathless, wet mouthed, dreamy eyes.Â
Kishibe circled his hand around your waist. The second kiss was overwhelming. If you felt breathless before, he was suffocating you now. Stealing air from your mouth with every move of his lips. His tongue moved inside, yours rushed to welcome it. Your cigarette slipped from your fingers in favor of burying themselves in his hair, the back of his shirt collar, his neck, tugging at anything you could reach. You were practically inside of his coat when his hand moved from your back to your ass. Cupping and pulling at the meat, feeling the muscle, the fat, the way it responded to his touch. He must have enjoyed what he felt because he was quick to pull you off the street and loop an arm under your ass, the other arm keeping your back in place, chest flush against his.Â
Kishibe lifted you easily, a fast circle to press you against the outer wall of your workplace. Caging your body against his own and the wall, using the brick to press himself against you even more. His firm hands hold your hips solidly around his hips, wrapping your legs around his back. You rolled your hips against the front of his pants, feeling what your teasing had done to him. Feeling the erection that your spit had given him. You couldnât remember the last time that someone had been so desperate for you. Desperate enough to ask you to spit in his drink, to watch you night after night, to bring you out here because he just couldnât stand it any longer. It was so hot, so sloppy, so desperate.Â
The brick against your back was just as solid as the body in front of you, and just as hard as the cock he pressed harder against you now. You gasped when he finally released your mouth to kiss your neck. Hot, thick tongue swiping up the sweat of your skin that your work and the hot air of the bar had accumulated.Â
The taste made Kishibeâs eyes roll back. A perfect aperitif to whet his already hungry appetite even further.The taste of your skin, the alcoholic twinge of perfume still lingering, mixing with the hot salt of work. Another dark groan simmered from his chest, the sexy sound making you let out your own moan, your head lolling back to hit the wall. Kishibeâs hands tightened up your body, holding you firmer against him, right against his throbbing erection. Hot breath on the newly wet skin of your neck, contact transferred heartbeat in his cock against your clothed pussy, you gripped his jaw trying to pull him back to your lips. Your eyes could barely open, but when they did you could catch glimpses of him, sexy, sweaty, and wanting for you. A nasty, sly smile on his face before he opened his mouth to kiss you again. HIs lips were wet, his tongue was quick to map your mouth, soft muscle sliding against yours. Slippery, sloppy, wet, hot.Â
âHey, We need--oh fuck, sorry.â Your coworker pushed through the front door, shoes thumping hard on the sidewalk.Â
Your eyes snapped open, you hurried to remove your legs from Kishibeâs waist, pulling your lips off and trying to push him away. Like two horned up teenagers caught kissing in a coat room. But he barely budged, he let you drop your legs, but his thick hands stayed firm on your hips, and he lazily moved his lips to your neck and jaw after you took your mouth away from his. You felt your whole body flush at the sight of your coworker taking in what was happening before her. Her face went from shock, to soft amusement, before a sound inside the bar made her look back. When she turned back to you, annoyance had marred her expression.
âWe-uh, need you back in here. Itâs getting pretty hectic.â Her irises couldnât settle on you or kishibe, everything was too embarrassing to focus on.Â
This made Kishibe pull off your neck and stand again, giving you his wanton eyes again to which you gave yours apologetically in return. He nodded, thumbing at the smudge of your lipstick on his bottom lip. You hurried inside after your coworker.Â
âIâm really sorry, I donât know what happened to me. I swear all my judgement just went out the window--Iâm sorry I left you guys in here.â You moved through the crowd, the heat and passion of the moment had been doused with cold water, leaving you shivering in your apologies.Â
âIts okay,â She waved your apologies out of the air and lifted up the bar top to let you slide in past her, âJustâŠnot really what I expected when I came out to get you. Did you even get that glass back?â
Embarrassment shot through you again, but looking up at her face, you saw no judgment, only a cheeky smile. She confirmed your suspicions with an easy laugh.Â
âOh come on, it's fine. I mean maybe next time pick a lull, but it's not like Iâve never slipped away for a quick kiss or anything.â She popped open two beers for the customers to her right. Â
You swiped the card of a customer to cash out, âYou have?âÂ
âSure, loads of times.â She winked at you, âPlus, that heâs hot. Public Safety man, not bad. Fix your lipstick by the way.âÂ
You looked to the bar mirror behind you, seeing the corners and edges of your lips had been nearly totally smudged off. There was even some of its pigment on your neck, carried by his mouth, down onto your skin. Fuck, you didnât know how you were going to make it to the end of this shift. Would he still be around? Was this it? You hadnât seen him come back in from outside yet, maybe he left. Maybe this all really was a ploy to get out of paying his tab. Lipstick reapplied and cleaned, you rejoined the bartop, busying your worried mind with slinging drinks and cleaning as best you could. Choosing to not worry about something as trivial as when/if you were getting laid next.Â
The impending rush was too hectic for you to even see Kishibe slip back inside. He did so intentionally, so that he could work his way around to the back of the throng of boys who had been harassing you all night. Perfectly timed so the leader, whether he be the birthday boy or groom or whatever bullshit reason was that he led everyone out here, ran shoulder forward into Kishibe on the way back to his table. His volatile temperament erupted in a single second.Â
âHey man what the fuck? Canât see anymore, old fuck? I spilled my drink, youâre fucking buying me another--â Kishibe caught his arm hard, right at the shoulder, pressing his middle finger and thumb into the cavity between the clavacle and the humurus, pushing hard.Â
âOw! What the fuck old man. Let go.â Kishibe pressed harder, now pulling him forward. The joke of a man struggled to resist, but was unable to get away.Â
Kishibeâs tone could have iced over the hot, crowded bar, âYouâre gonna get the fuck out of here. Take all your asshole friends, cash out at the bar, youâre going to overpay, because those girls deserve it after all the shit you put them through. And youâre never going to bring your dumbass friends back here again.âÂ
Kishibe was pressing his fingers hard enough that they could have met in the middle of this dumb asshole's ball socket. Wincing in pain, the alcohol was clearly softening the intensity, because the fucker managed a shaky laugh.Â
âAnd why the fuck, should I do what you say, old man, huh?â He scowled.Â
Kishibe pulled tighter, a single, thin bladed knife emerged in his hand, invisible to anyone around them, guarded by his palm. He pressed it against the soft flesh under his jaw.Â
âIf I see you back here again, Iâll kill you. A lot of devils on this side of town get hungry at night. Lucky for you, asshole is their favorite meal. They might eat you fast. And Iâll probably get a commendation out of it.â Kishibe slid the blade, making a thin cut, letting the blood bead up and slip down.Â
There it was, that electrifying fear in his eyes that he could only get in moments like this. Moments in which he had all the power in the world. In which he was god, and he could decide who lived or died. He pressed a bit further, just enough to feel the blade slip past the split of skin. The asshole couldn't even speak, just choke in fear and agony before Kishibe let go and pushed him back. He watched as the low life stumbled back, with his hand to his neck, finally finding his voice and stumbling back to his friends. It only took about fifteen minutes before the whole group cashed out, generously, and left the bar. Not another nasty word or joke was spoken, two of them actually apologized. Not looking you in the eye.Â
Your shock waned when you saw Kishibe back at his stool at your bar. You knew he had something to do with their quick exit, and although you were curious, you were also sure it was better if you didnât know. The remaining half hour until close would be a breeze, even the other patrons shared the bar staff's relief to have them gone. A collective held breath was released and people felt free to enjoy themselves again.Â
 âThis one's on those guys.â You set a tumbler in front of Kishibe at the bar, Kishibe cracked a smile, accepting the rocks glass.Â
âDid you add my favorite ingredient?â Those dark eyes, in the colored lights of the bar, looked even more dangerous than in the alley.Â
You sucked your cheeks in, a saucy blush coming over your face. You peeked over your shoulder at the rest of the bar before leaning over and spitting slowly down into his drink. Kishibe sucked in a tight hiss of air as he watched you. You licked your lips, letting any clinging strands of saliva untether themselves, before flicking your eyes up to him.Â
âPerfect.â He marveled, his voice low, thoughtful, accepting the perfected drink and sipping gratefully.Â
You busied your hands with polishing the glassware that had been cleaned already by the kitchen staff, and replacing bottles that had been depleted, as well as their back ups for tomorrowâs staff. You were off tomorrow, you were hoping that would come as welcome information tonight.Â
âSo,â You watched him carefully, the events of the night replaying in your head, the man in front of you who had been silent and passive until less than two hours ago and was now enjoying the taste of your mouth both directly and indirectly, âHow often do you hook up with bartenders?âÂ
Kishibe chuckled, ânot as often as Iâd like. But, maybe thatâs changing.â
âMaybe it is.â You nodded.Â
A loaded, flirtatious silence settled between the two of you. He was so uninhibited in the way he looked at you, so unabashedly staring. You could practically feel the hands he imagined on your body, just as they had been out front. Needing a break from his intense gaze, you looked back at the bar. Things were dead compared to just ten minutes earlier, only a few regulars, your coworker was already counting out the first drawer in preparation to close. When you turned back, he looked up from where he had obviously been looking at your ass.Â
Putting his hands up, the sarcastic universal symbol for âyou caught meâÂ
âWhen are you done here?â He moved his hand over the top of his glass, leaning toward you again.Â
âBarâs almost closed, maybe like thirty to an hour to clean up.â You tried to mentally estimate how quickly you could reset the bar, sweep, clean the bathroom, and take the trash out.Â
A loaded, flirtatious silence settled between the two of you. He was so uninhibited in the way he looked at you, so unabashedly staring. You could practically feel the hands he imagined on your body, just as they had been in the alley. Needing a break from his intense gaze, you looked back at the bar. Things were dead compared to just ten minutes earlier, only a few regulars, your coworker was already counting out the first drawer in preparation to close.Â
Kishibe looked around the bar as well. Only a few patrons remained, a couple that probably should have left before they started dry humping each other in a booth, another man at the end of the bar who was signing his last receipt, and another woman who had been sat at the bar, who was on her way back from the bathroom. It felt cavernous in here without that suffocating group taking up too much space and attention. Maybe he was drunker than usual, maybe you really were just that hot, maybe the hot rush of threatening that asshole was still tickling his nerves, but Kishibe shed his trench coat, setting it on the next stool.Â
âAlright, whatâs first?â He started rolling up his sleeves.Â
You laughed, thinking he must be joking. He pulled his sleeves up his arms, sinewy forearms moving with every micro adjustment of his hands.Â
âYouâre gonna help me close the barâŠâ You shook your head, eyebrows pulling together.Â
âWhy not?â He fastened his other sleeve, âsend your buddy home.âÂ
âYouâre going to help me close the bar, just for a date?â You laughed again.Â
âWho said anything about a date, Iâm just being helpful.â He took the warm rag from you and started to wipe down the bartop where he had been seated, long clean lines, no streaks, no spots missed, pretty good technique.Â
It didnât take much convincing to get your coworkers to bail. You told them that you felt bad for missing the rush and being so distracted, it was the least you could do. Neither one of them argued too much, grateful for the early release from work. Once the bar was officially closed, they and the remaining patrons left quickly. You waved goodbye to your coworkers, locking the front door behind the last one, wishing them both a good night. The heavy thunk of the lock in the door echoed through the bar, the jukebox hadnât been programmed for anything, leaving you in silence. You turned back to the bar and saw Kishibe lifting the barstools onto the bartop, setting them on their cushions safely. He looked good like this, tie loose, greying hair missed by your hands, still not totally back in its place, working overtime for your attention. You could get used to having him around.Â
You moved around him, toward the back of the bar, and passed off a broom.
âYou sweep. Iâll get the bar done.â You cracked a flirty smile and he accepted your instruction.
He busied himself with sweeping while you counted the final drawer, reset the bottles, capped everything and left the slow pours to soak overnight. He swept the floors, pretty poorly but hey, it was a bar not a museum. He was preoccupied by watching you stretch up for the highest shelves, watching as your body lengthened itself into lithe, long shapes. Heâs never had a job like yours before, so it was fun to pretend to be working an honest manâs career, although with his height the boom was a bit of a strain in his lower back. Even when he offered, he surprised himself. Cleaning a bar for a lay was something his younger self never would have entertained, too much effort, too generous of him; trying to earn his way into a bed wasnât his style. But he needed you alone, he craved you privately.Â
It didnât take long until the place was clean. As clean as it ever was, really, reset enough to not agonize the opening crew at least. Kishibe had moved from sweeping to gathering the trash bags from the various bins and taking them outside for you. All things considered, he wasnât the worst bar back you had ever had. On his last trip out, you snuck over to the jukebox, flipping through the LPs until you found something suitable, a brass heavy, Taeko Onuki track from the 70s that you favored. You watch the discs rise and fall, the decorative trio in the center begins its dance, like a woman in a music box, spinning around and around, swapping places and twinkling in their private dance floor. You hadnât heard him reenter, nor had you seen his reflection as he approached behind you. Not until his hands moved over your hips, pulling you into his body, did you realize he was there. The soft hair on your arms perked up as he brought his nose down the side of your neck, before pressing a single, soft kiss to the spot behind your ear.Â
âAnything else,â you felt his eyelashes against your skin, âboss?âÂ
You giggled, âNo I think youâre set to go home, thanks for all your help.âÂ
You had to steady yourself with one hand on the freshly cleaned glass of the jukeboxâs face. He slithered one of his hands from your hip across your waistline, splaying his hands across your stomach, pressing your further into his body. You could feel him awakening behind you; heavy and hot against your back.Â
âAre you sure thereâs nothing else I can do for you?â He let his forefinger slip under the edge of your shirt.Â
âWellâŠâ you let your head fall back against his breast bone, inviting his hand to explore your body more.Â
He accepted your invitation gladly, his palm slipping completely under your shirt, sliding up your stomach, up the the hard underwire of your bra, where it connected in the center, he could feel the soft tug of lace, something hard in the center, a jewel or charm, maybe the center knot of a bow. You shivered as the tip of his forefinger brushed against your perked, touch desperate nipple. You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth and turned around in his grasp, ducking under his arm toward the bar.Â
âNeed a drink?â You tried to sound jovial, maybe even sexy, but it came out a little shaky and nervous.Â
Kishibe was stunned for a moment, one second he was centimeters away from finally touching you, kissing your neck and taking you right here against the juke box, and the next you were back behind the bar pouring two shots before he even responded. You were nervous. He should have expected this, this much build up could kill the excitement of a moment like this. It was hard to maintain impulsivity over multiple hours. He was going to have to win you back over. This was proving to be more of a chase than he expected, but he was never one to shy away from a challenge.Â
KIshibe walked over to the bar, pulling a stool from the bar top and taking a seat in front of you, âWhat are we drinking?âÂ
âWhisky.â You chirped, a bit too eagerly, finishing your pours and passing one to him.Â
Kishibe accepted and clicked his glass against yours, watching you swallow it down quickly to pour another. You felt the burn ravage your throat, the soft fuzz surrounding your head, making you feel more grounded and more loose all at once.Â
âYou feel more comfortable with me behind that bar?â Kishibe posed, watching you fill his glass again.Â
âMaybe itâs just my instincts. You were just a customer until tonight.âÂ
âJust a customer?â Kishibe clicked his tongue, âYou treat all your customers like this?âÂ
You sucked your cheeks in briefly, circling around the bar. He swiveled the stool to make space for you. You moved into his lap, he wrapped his arms around you, keeping you secure on him.Â
âYou know I donât. This is just for you.â You leaned in like you were going to kiss him.Â
His eyes slipped shut, waiting for the contact of your lips. But it didnât come. You pressed past him to get your shot glass. You took your shot, accidentally letting some of the whiskey slip down your jaw and neck. A soft medicinal burn followed the trail. Soothed by Kishibeâs soft, wide tongue catching the drop at your breast bone and trailing it up to your lips again. The taste of the whiskey against your lips was more potent than the special cocktail that had brought you together. But titillated him the same way. Your tongues found each other again, for the first time since the exterior of the bar. He had spent the evening sampling the taste of your mouth, but there was nothing that compared to the feeling of your tongue sliding against his.Â
These kisses with him were different than you had had in the past, especially when kissing someone for the first time. It seemed you moved together without focus, allowing yourselves to melt into the sensation without consideration. You slipped your tongue against the side of his mouth, and felt him shiver under your touch, a soft whine escaping him. You were surprised to see him so reactive, so you moved your tongue again, this time feeling the faint raised line that was seemingly connected to the shiver in his spine. His hands tightened around your thighs, gripping harder than before.Â
âCareful now.â He warned, tight breath being drawn in between his teeth. Â
âSensitive, huh?â Your lips still brushed his as you spoke, âNow who's nervous?âÂ
âDonât flatter yourself baby,â Kishibe used his little finger to underline the scar on his cheek, âNever healed quite right. Nerves are still fried.âÂ
âHm, yeah?â You leaned in closer, âSo you're extra tender here?âÂ
Your tongue slipped out and onto the corner of his mouth, tracing back towards his jaw slowly along his scar. His hands moved up and tightened around your biceps, he shifted in his seat, drawing in shaky staccato breaths. His hips jut up to press tighter against you, letting you feel his clothed erection. Even packed into suit pants he felt big. Your tongue reached his neck and you planted a big, wet, open mouthed kiss right to the corner. He was grinding you against him now, gripping your ass hard and moving you back and forth against his lap, or maybe you were moving on your own. Both of you were already feeling so desperate, the air in the bar had become thick and humid, tension settling around you like a fog.Â
The kisses turned, heavier, more intense, hands began to wander freely. It was a bit awkward with both of you piled on the stool, or at least it should have been. He was strong enough to keep you in place with little effort. But even he grew tired of how cumbersome it was proving to be. Before you could register he stood up, he had you sat on the bar top, his body between your legs, hands already starting to pull your shirt up.Â
The Jukeboxâs discs had changed to its regular rotation, but this was everything but. Your shirt fell to the floor. His shirt buttons seemed to melt under your fingertips, letting the white fabric fall to the side tie joining the heap of clothing on the ever-sticky bar floor. It didnât matter that it would probably be ruined, it didnât matter that the barstool hit the ground hard enough to break, it didnât matter that the bartop was freshly cleaned, nothing else mattered. Kishibe was right about your bra, a dark eggplant/burgandy lace with a white jewel in the center. The pride of his correct assessment was outweighed by the burning joy he felt when he shed it from you, eyeing your bare chest. Drooling at the curves of your breasts, the contrasting shades of your nipples. He was quick to join you atop the bar, laying you on your back and bringing your chest to his mouth.Â
He was a biter, you discovered. Leaving bruising bites on the soft fleshy parts of your tits, sucking hard on your nipples, balancing his affection with a groping hand to the opposite breast as his mouth. Your fingers tangled in his hair, grabbing and pulling when he bit too hard, scratching affectionately when he sucked just enough. You couldnât stop squirming underneath him, undulating your spine further against his face, feeling his strong curved note hard against your sternum.
âKishibeâŠâ You panted out, scratching your nails up his back, âPleaseâŠI canât wait anymore, please.â
He let go out the tit in his mouth, his tongue dragging across your nipple, making you keen back again.
âYeah, baby?â His shark eyes were more predatory than you had seen before, âYou need it?âÂ
He was still in his suit pants, you still wore your shorts and tights, But his hand traveled down your waist to press between your legs, âYou want me to fuck you right here on your bar? Where anyone can see you through that window? Nasty girl.â
You couldnât respond, you just whined at the press of his fingers right on your clothed clit.
âOf course you do.â Kishibe tutted, although the hard wood of the bar was growing painful against his knees, he would persevere, moving his hand to his own button and undoing it.Â
You followed suit undoing your own button, uninhibited by his taunts. You knew that glass wasnât see through on the outside, the tint was too heavy, especially at night, especially with most of the interior lights out. You knew the security cameras only worked on the outside. And even if any of those things hadnât been true, it wouldnât have mattered, you were too fucked out to care anymore, you needed him. You needed him inside of you. You needed this man, and you needed him now.Â
Kishibe, clearly, wasnât about to be denied either. Once your shorts were discarded, he ripped through the middle of your tights, long runs going down your legs, making you gasp out. He had only freed himself from his pants, but they still hung low on his hips. He pulled his heavy, already leaking cock forward. You barely caught a glimpse of the massive thing, red tipped and angry, before he moved over you again, kissing you so hard your head pushed down against the bar top. Or it would have, if his free hand hadnât raced to protect your skull from the impact. Mouths connected, bodies flush, he ran the head of his cock against the gusset of your panties.Â
âSo wetâŠâ He mumbled against your mouth, using two of his fingers to slip your panties aside, moving the tip of his cock between your damp lower lips.Â
Your whole body rolled with goosebumps, with electrifying pleasure. He pressed inside of you, your muscles already tightening, sucking him in further. Two crass, fulfilled moans were expelled as your bodies were joined. You clawed at his back, pulling him closer, and arching your back up as he penetrated you.Â
âFuuuuuuuck!â You cried out, panting and whimpering into his shoulder.Â
He couldnât believe the heat, the tension, the soft, perfect separation of your muscles he now buried himself into. The hand under your head pushed against the bartop for leverage, using it to pull himself back out before pressing into you again, deeper. He must have been eight or nine inches long, pressing up into your cervix, almost up into your womb. You couldnât believe how full you felt. When he pulled his hips back again you felt a small collection of tears forming at the feeling of emptiness that followed. But it wasnât for long, his hips hinged again, leading his long, fat cock back into you. He struggled momentarily to set an even pace, never wanting to leave the perfect heat of your cunt, but somehow, he managed.Â
With his thrusts even now, you resumed your kisses on his neck, letting your teeth pull at the thin skin, praying you would leave marks on him. Wanting to never let him forget this night, you prayed you wouldnât. You knew you would never forget the feeling of wholeness that being full of him gave you. Your thighs shook around his hips, the runs in your tights growing and stretching downward. Kishibe pushed down on your head, trying to keep you from sliding across the waxy, freshly cleaned bartop. The power of his thrusts was knocking you forward slowly so his arms strained to keep you in place, biceps bulging deliciously in your periphery. It seemed every part of him was cultivated to keep a body in place, the thought made you shiver, but another hard push against your g-spot made you forget.Â
Kishibe fucked in to you, fighting to get his lips on yours, on your jaw, on your neck, your shoulder, your forehead, anywhere he could reach. Your nails drew harsh red scratches on his back, but they were barely worth registering to him. Your tongue found his scar from the inside again as your mouths connected, making his hips shake into you.Â
âCareful old man, donât hurt yourself nowâŠâ your voice fluttered, ruining your attempt to sound cocky.Â
KIshibe bit down on your neck making you whine again, the snap of his hips into you was more confident, unshaken, and mean. He fucked mean. Brutal pacing, so deep you worried it would hurt, but the pain never came. Just mind melting, vision whitening pleasure with every thrust. Your sharp, whiny moans filled the bar, commingling with Kishibe's hard grunts of effort and shaking breaths. You wanted to turn over, you wanted to ride him, but as small as the bartop was, changing positions would prove difficult. But you wanted to be in charge now. You tried to push his shoulders, but he didnât move an inch.Â
âKishiiiii---âYou tried to catch your breath, âKishi, please, let me on top.âÂ
He never wanted to stop, but the sweet sound of your begging, the sweet honey of your voice pleading this nickname, burst through his fuck-filled mind. He pulled out, moving onto his knees and watching as you slid yourself forward. He caught a glimpse of your puffy, swollen pussy, he thought he would faint. All the blood rushing from his brain to his already solid and swollen cock. You switched places with him, moving him onto his back on the bar. Now you could see his cock. And you couldnât believe how that had been inside of you. Long, sure, but fucking thick, veiny and uncut, head swollen past his foreskin, and leaking. Or at least you thought it was leaking, although it very well could have just been your own creamy wetness that coated the outside of his cock.Â
âDon't just stare at it, baby, come on. You wanted to ride. Show me what you can do.â Kishibe put one hand behind his head, grinning proudly at the way you gawked at him.Â
You climbed over his lap, leaning over him so your tits hang in his face, reaching back to take him in your hand, kissing his tip to your pretty, fluttering hole. The proximity makes you squelch out another stream of wet lubrication, dripping onto his pelvis now. Kishibe leans up to mouth at your nipples again, just as you sit yourself on his cock. A tit-muffled moan just barely escapes his lips. His other hand wraps around your back, now sitting up with you, helping you to move your hips up and down on him. You were supposed to be the one leading the charge, but once again you find yourself at his mercy.Â
âFuck---fuck----fuck---fuck.â Is all you can choke out as you ride him, the new angle makes it feel like the head of his cock is nestled just behind your navel.Â
He has grown more vocal like this as well, âThatâs it--thatâs it, baby---ugnh---good girl.---Yes, baby----Just like that, fuck---take that cock baby.âÂ
You ride faster, push harder, his big hands tighten around your jaw and the back of your neck, those burly arms flexing again, making your clit quiver again. His grip tightened, pushing your cheeks in, his thumb pushing against your teeth hard. You could see a red flush coming over his shoulders, climbing down to his chest.Â
You whimper again, his rough treatment making your thighs shake around his lap, quads burning from effort.Â
âSpit.â He commands, opening his mouth and jerking your face to align with his.Â
You do. No longer letting the drool fall from you freely like you had when serving him before, spitting hard into his mouth, seeing the clear, frothy liquid onto his tongue. He swallows it down, and rushes to lap at your chin, where some has collected, then pushing it into your mouth. No whiskey diluted aperitif could have prepared him for the sweet, singular sensation of having your spit in his mouth directly. His eyes rolled back and he felt himself lose control. You can barely raise your hips anymore from how hard he is holding you, how intensely he kisses you. A corner had turned within him, he had changed. Kishibeâs hands leave your face and grip your hips hard enough to bruise, lifting and lowering you on his cock over and over. You gave over to his guidance, no longer riding, just being used. Letting him use you like his own personal fleshlight, chasing his high. Your sweaty skin was sticking together, wet slapping and squelching filling the bar, drowning out the music. You try to steady your hands on his shoulders, fighting to stay conscious and upright. The coarse hair at the base of his pelvis grinds against your clit perfectly, the unending penetration starting to make you mind melt. You couldnât catch your breath, you needed a break, you needed more, you needed to adjust your hips, you needed to fall back against his chest, you neededâŠyou neededâŠyou---
A long, high pitched, voice breaking cry spills from you as you cum. Your body shakes, you clench up around him, making him dig his nails into your hips, trying to keep his momentum, but the evil suck of your muscles starts milking him before he even realizes what's happening. He bites hard on your shoulder to keep the embarrassing half moan half scream from sounding. It comes from you instead, the bite making your orgasm resume and spill into aftershot as he empties himself into you. You feel the twitching pulse on the underside of his cock, spurt after spurt of hot, thick, pent up cum.Â
Your bodies still and melt together, you slump against his shoulder, he holds you against his chest. The fevered slap of skin and breathy, nasty moans echo briefly through the bar before dissipating and giving way to the soft pants of you trying to catch your breath. One of Kishibeâs hands smooths your hair in the back, and he pulls off to face you, tucking some hair behind your ear as he marvels at you.Â
Lips swollen and kiss bitten, hair loose, cheeks wet and sticky. He runs one thumb under your eyes, collecting a fallen, pleasure filled tear. You look so beautiful, better than the furthest reaches of his imagination. He feels himself twitch inside of you again at the sight of your post coital, fucked out face. The face he worked so hard for. He leaned forward and kissed you sweetly, no clash of tongue, no biting lips or grabbing hands.
When he pulled back, you took your turn to admire him. A heavy blush over his cheeks, sweat collecting on his forehead and nose, eyes consumed with blown pupils, dark purple bite marks starting to emerge on his neck and shoulders. You ran a finger over one of his eyebrows, moving a piece of hair off his forehead.Â
 âYou feel okay?â He spoke in a voice you had never heard from him, soft, gentle, like telling a secret and also like confession.Â
You nodded, dreamy eyes fluttering closed, âMhm, you?âÂ
âGreat.â He kissed the top of your shoulder.Â
You rested against his chest again, not wanting to feel the emptiness that soon would come. Wanting to feel filled and plugged up completely for as long as he would let you. His still hard cock keeping his cum locked inside. Only then did you think about the possible effects of what you had done.Â
âWe probably should have used protectionâŠâ You slumped your chin against his shoulder, yawning at the idea of logistics.Â
âI got a vasectomy in the seventies, nothing to worry about there.â He soothed a hand over your back, feeling the damp skin growing cold in the barâs air conditioning.Â
You nodded sleepily against his neck, leaving soft kisses along the juncture of his neck and shoulder.Â
âStay awake for me, baby, I still gotta get you home.â He hates the idea of leaving the warmth of your body, of returning to his apartment alone, drinking himself to sleep and waking up to another bloodshot day of work.Â
You yawned again, sitting up and nodding. He helped you off his lap, setting you back down on the bar and adjusting himself into his trousers. He handed you your shirt and you slipped it on, forgoing your bra, opting to just carry it beside you. You found your shorts on the floor, bending over to retrieve them, giving Kishibe a devastatingly hot view of your leaking, sticky pussy from the back. He nearly falls to his knees and buries his face between your legs to clean up his mess, but clenches his jaw to restrain himself. You slide them on as he buttons his shirt. You grab a rag from behind the bar and wipe down the sweat puddles andâŠother puddles that had collected under your bodies on the bar. Kishibe pulls his coat on, watching you return to work on shaking legs. Once you were done cleaning the bartop, he replaced the barstool to join its others, upturned onto the bar. You grab your purse from behind the bar and join him in the lobby once more.Â
âAlright, how far is your place? Iâll walk you home.â Kishibe looks down at you, seeing your sleep filled eyes. Â
âThanks, I live upstairs if you wanna come up and crash.â You stretched your arms up heading toward the back where the back door led out to an external stairwell that led to the apartments above the strip of buildings where the bar was located.Â
âYou live upstairs?â Kishibe stood in shock as you went to the light switch toward the back door.Â
âYeah!â You smiled back at him.Â
Kishibe was still in shock as you turned the lights off, and as he followed you out, âYou live upstairs and you still chose to fuck on the bartop?âÂ
You shrugged, locking the backdoor, âwhy not, it was hot.âÂ
Kishibe shook his head, blinking a few times.Â
Young peopleâŠ.
âCome on, old man.â You lead him to the stairs, to your apartment, leaving the bar behind, dark and dormant, still buzzing with the electricity of new passion.Â
Inside the jukebox changes its disc, letting a gentle love song coat the empty bar.Â
I HOPE YALL ENJOYED MY FREAK NASTY SHIT!!! i missed you guys, im so glad to be done with this, it took me like five rewrites, and its midnight and im not re-reading it again so if theres an insane typo or whatever, ill fix it later. Love you, thank you, Bye --Doodle xx
Thank you so much to the Anon who requested pegging with Kishibe, I am so grateful to you and I really hope this finds you and you enjoy it. I really loved writing it and since it was my first request I really put my heart and soul behind it. Thank you so much, and I am so grateful for the love from Brazil, I love you back, Brazil, very much. Enjoy, my friend.
WC: 8.4k Kinktober Masterlist. Masterlist. Ao3
You and your, kind-of boyfriend, Kishibe stumble upon a long neglected desire of his. And not willing to leave him unsatisfied, and with a newly awakened desire of your own, you indulge. (in his butt)
Warnings: PEGGING, Butt play, get up in his butt girl, oral, teasing, soft degradation, kissing, discussions of bisexual kishibe past, oral sex, anal sex, anal fingering., strapping him.
You shouldnât have been shocked, really. Kishibe was utterly filthy, there seemed to be nothing he wouldnât do. So when, during a particularly sloppy blowjob, your tongue traveled, slightly further south, it shouldnât have shocked you that he arched back into the bed, his hips shuddering up against your mouth, his hand flew down to grab your neck, keeping you in place against the soft, hot flesh between his legs. You let your eyes roll upward, cautiously, appraising the state of him.Â
With one hand over his mouth, dark eyes blown open completely, a feverish red blush dying his face. If you knew him less, you would think he looked almost embarrassed. Good thing you knew better. With one cheek pressing against the sweet, soft crease between his pelvis and thigh, spit wet cock resting on your cheek. When you felt him jerk, your tongue retreated. But now, in this eye-to-eye stalemate, you let it slip out again, tasting the soft, unattended flesh of his perineum. He whimpers, actually whimpers. Maybe the deadliest human man in the world, allow his voice to crack and slip all at the touch of your tongue against him. Your eyes scan upward, up the ridges and valleys of his body. His stomach, hips, the working muscles, the alcohol soaked layer of soft flesh beneath his skin littered with soft, graying body hair. Hair that tickles your nose as you breathe around his erection. Slowly, mercifully, keeping one hand tight around the base, and you move below him. Your knees spread further on the floor, enough for you to keep his cock against your face. You pump him gently, cock soaked from your mouth, using your cheek as the counter. Kishibeâs breath is shaky, cautious, watching your eyes turn cat-like, narrow and devilish.Â
âDonât you fuckin--â He couldnât finish before your devilâs tongue rounded the skin of his leg and slid under his balls and lapped, with the full spread of your tongue, at the warm, pleasure, quivering flesh.Â
He keens back fully, his back hitting the bed. You seize the opportunity and worm your tongue deeper, right between his ass, deep enough to feel the soft puckering of skin. At this angle, this is the best you can reach. But it's enough to make his voice crumble and falter. His song fills your ears, wets your panties, sends a cymbal crash down your spine. You relieve him, letting him at least open his eyes again.Â
âYou like that, huh, Baby?â Your voice is heavy, sultry even.Â
âY-you..â Kishibe pants up into the stuffy, sex filled air, âYou are a wicked girlâŠyou know that?âÂ
You give him a nasty smile, âAnd you like getting your ass played with, huh? How come you never told me?âÂ
âI never shied away from yours,â He pats the spot on the bed next to him, inviting you forward, âAnd you never reciprocated, figured you werenât game.â He was observing you now, in the way that hunters do, waiting for your next move.Â
You got off your knees, joining him on the bed, crawling up to his face. He embraces you, bringing you close and locking your lips together in a deep kiss. Naked together on the bed, he gropes at your body freely. Time together has given him an intimacy with your figure, a familiarity, a reverence.Â
âIâm almost hurt.â You free yourself from his kiss, moving a hand over his chest, âI thought we didnât keep secrets.âÂ
Kishibe gives you a look.Â
âThose kinds of secrets, at least.â Your traveling hand reached his spit wet cock again.Â
He sucked in a blissful breath, âWellâŠIâve had a lot of life before you, honey.âÂ
You gave him a warning squeeze.
âAgh--â He canât help but smile, clenching up before you resume stroking him, âNothing like you, baby. You know youâre the best. Waited all my life for you.âÂ
He smooths your hair, dark eyes have grown black from the continued state of arousal youâve suspended him in. Your chest blooms, you wonder if he really means it when he says things like this to you. But, you know that like this, you could get him to say anything.Â
âSo, you have a lot of experience in that area?â you round your thumb over his tip.Â
Kishibeâs cheeks hollow, âSome, yeah.â
You pump him again, a reward for his honesty and candor, âand who was accompanying you in theseâŠexperiences?â
Kishibe chuckled, tucking his hand under his head, âYou want names or?â
You squeezed him again.Â
He clenches at the harsh treatment, but knows your answer, âAlright. I get it, youâre curious, but not that curious.â
You watch him for a moment, not speaking, just pumping him with one hand, holding yourself up with the other. He knows you're watching him, and allows himself to be admired. He really is beautiful, soft blush on his cheeks, mouth wet with residual kisses, prepared for more as they come. Youâve always found him fascinating, to look at and to understand. He was immensely private when you first met, and for most of the time that you have been together. The brief glimpses you have gotten from moments like these, bedsheets holding them together like whispered parentheses, their contents asides, only for you, as his audience to hear and to know. He may not even know how you collect these parentheticals, how you have each one memorized and catalogued.Â
âAre youâŠstill curious?â You want to be careful with your words, keeping him on the line, not ready to lose him just yet.Â
Kishibe catches your meaning, an expectant twinkle in his eye, âNot much anymore, my experience, makes the curiosity lessâŠhungry.âÂ
âReally?â Your hand stills.Â
âMhm.â It comes out as a groan, looking down his body at your hand around his cock, as though he could mentally will it into motion again, âOnce you get a taste for it, itâs nice.â
âOh?â You resume stroking him, another reward.Â
He nods, âYeah.â Shaky breath separates his thoughts, âTaking it up the ass is like riding a bike, donât know why you make it look so hard.âÂ
Of course, even like this, he would tease you.Â
You let him feel just the phantomâs edge of nail against the thin, all too sensitive skin of his shaft. The fucker bites his lip.Â
He would like that.
âWell Iâm sure in all your experimentation, youâve never had something as big as your own. So forgive my struggling.â You roll your eyes.Â
âDonât be so sure, honey.â He huffs, your hand is slowing again, âI was pretty accomplished in my day.âÂ
You canât help but laugh a little, primarily out of disbelief, âOh come on! Youâre fucking with me. Thereâs no way you were playing the catcher.âÂ
You can feel the moment slipping, if he was fucking with you, the joke has run its course. You sit up, releasing him once again. The tet-a-tet is growing old, if you were going to fuck, it would have already taken precedent.Â
âIs that so hard to believe?â He soundsâŠdifferent.Â
You turn back to look at him, but your nasty, sarcastic face is wiped to neutral the moment you see the strange foreign look in his eyes. He looks almostâŠhurt. Not hurt but maybe embarrassed? Maybe your questioning went too far? Maybe the mix of physical and personal vulnerability was all too much at once.Â
âWellâŠyeah, I guess.â You shrug, âI just didnât know.âÂ
You canât seem to find the right words for how you feel. Surely it should feel obvious, from his earlier reaction and everything. But there was a vast difference between liking a little tongue where you donât usually get it, andâŠactually experiencing anal sex. You knew that, it had taken you almost a week to work up to take him completely inside. Although, come to think of it, he was the one who emphasized taking it slow, even when you begged him for it. Brutal as he usually was, he was neverâŠcareless.Â
Not like you had just been.Â
All your parenthetical confessions, the ones you hoarded, should have prepared you for this one. A moment of true vulnerability. Asking without asking. Testing your trust before needing it. And you may have just failed.Â
âIt never crossed my mind. Usually when we're together, I donât like thinking about you with anyone. I never even thought toâŠthink about you with other men.â
Heâs still. Just as he has been. Waiting for the rest of your explanation. Unreadable as ever.Â
âAlthoughâŠnow that I have, I would be lying if I said I wasnât interested.â You move closer on the bed, your legs against his once more, âYou know thereâs nothing you could ask of me that I wouldnât do for you, Kishi.âÂ
You lean in to plant a wet kiss on his neck, he stays stony, but his eyes close as your lips touch his skin.Â
âAnything in the world.â You kiss again, and this time you take his hand, guiding it between your legs, slipping one of his fingers between your pussy lips, an audible squish of soaked flesh parting against skin.Â
Kishibe gasps in your ear, wet and heavy air against your ear. His finger moves on instinct, probing deeper, lower, feeling the collected honey slip past his fingertips. You lick across his neck, toward his ear.Â
âYou want me to fuck you, Kishi?â You whisper, as though this bedroom needs any shielding from your mutual depravity.Â
You could practically feel the blood rush to paint the tip of his ear pink. He nods.Â
âUh-uh,â You try not to moan against his still exploring fingers, âI need to hear you ask me.âÂ
His chest grumbles. Maybe frustration. Maybe the lightheaded ache of sustained arousal without release is finally getting to him.Â
âPlease,â is all he asks of you, and thatâs all you need.Â
You fully accept your new role. He wants you to take control. Heâs asking you for it. Heâs asked a lot of you before, but never has he given you the reins like this. Not with this much trust. You take in a grounding breath as you help him settle onto his knees. You build him a little pillow support to lean on comfortably. You arenât exactly sure how far you will get tonight, but you want him to be comfortable. You can see the red saturating his shoulders, climbing up his back in hot, shameful streaks, grabbing his neck.Â
âRelax, baby.â You run your fingers down his neck, watching the way your touch smooths the ridged, tense muscles, âYou know, if I didn't know better, I would think you were actually nervous.â
A faux-confident chuckle leaves him as he cranes back to see you, âJustâŠdonât confuse my professional masochism for a personal interest.âÂ
You giggle, moving your hair out of your face before lowering yourself behind him. Itâs a new view of your lower. The square backs of knees, bent to ninety degree angles, leading up to backs of thighs. Downy, cornsilk body hair trailing up in an even ashen layer. The shadow of the inner thigh deepens the further up to the ass and the further inward your eyes trail. The faint white scars that litter his body are lesser back here, with the exception of a singular, wide, flat, just barely still pink in its center scar that runs laterally on his left leg. You trail your finger across it, the skin twitches.Â
âI havenât seen this one beforeâŠâ You say, mostly to yourself.Â
Once you reached its edge, you followed the imaginary bilateral line up the back of his thigh. Feather-light touches, getting close to the under cheek of his left side. Following the curve toward his inner thigh, he lets out a shiver.Â
âYouâre tense, baby,â you warn, âItâll be harder if youâre tense.âÂ
Kishibe nods slowly, taking a steady breath, his shoulder blade smoothing down his back. His heart was pounding, sweat collecting along the nape of his neck, already starting to slip down his spine. Your hands were smooth against the thinned, scarred skin, intimately familiar to him now, but now so foreign in their gentility. You curve over him, nosing at the back of his ear, letting the cool tip of your nose run down the upper ridge of his trapezius muscle. Your lips reach out before you urge them to, kissing along the end of his hairline. The short, cropped hair at the back of his neck tickles under your nose. You lean into the tickle, nuzzling into the soft, bristled hair. He smells like smoke, and talcum scented soap. The soft waxy smell of skin is beginning to penetrate through the barrier of washed skin. You hum at the smell. His smell. The one he leaves behind on your bedsheets before he leaves town for days or weeks at a time. An olfactory promise of his return.Â
In your affections you have moved to straddle one of his legs, moving down his body, you find that the back of calf presses against the seam of your pussy. You let out a soft moan, pressing your hips down further, feeling his muscle press against your clit.Â
Kishibe groans underneath you, his head sinking into the pillow, muffling the end of his expression. The sound was too sweet to end. You slipped a finger into your mouth, letting it glisten with spit, mirroring the sheen of wet arousal you were leaving on his leg.You trail a wet finger down the cleft of his ass feeling the skin begin to pucker toward his hole.You feel the pert circle, the flesh parting at the center, giving way to the tiniest of holes. Just enough for you to press the mound of your fingertip into. Even that makes his breath hitch, turning his face to the side, stealing a glance at you from over his shoulder. He watches you from in front like a cat, you could nearly see his pupil reshape into a slit.Â
âI told you Iâd be careful.â You round your finger around the exterior of his asshole, feeling the change in skin, circling your hips against his calf in tandem.Â
 His wary gaze stays steady but his eyes soften, allowing you permission to advance. You press against his hole, breeching just barely past the muscle. Sliding back further to align yourself with his hips. You slip your finger down his perineum, feeling the silky soft neglected skin give way to the thin, sensitive skin of his balls. Your other fingers join, feeling the gentle weight, massaging them lightly. Along with your massage you lick a wide stripe up from your fingertip and across his hole. Your eyes roll back in time with his own. Musk and skin and sweat and soap commingling on your tongue. You lap again. He drives his hips back against your tongue. Shaky moans bubble behind his Adam's apple. Jaw clenched tight, eyes screwed up tighter, and asshole tighter, still, quivering against your tongue.Â
âBreath, baby.â You smile against him.Â
Kishibeâs breath shudders outward, the barely present vocalizations of pleasure coloring each huff. You grab each cheek and spread him apart. His asshole is pretty and pink, which you find both surprising and absolutely fitting. Kishibe was just a man, after all, not some kind of inhuman, indestructible force. While he may be in the good graces of whatever deity out there controls a manâs luck, he is simply that. And in being just a human man, he was malleable to your touch. Especially your sloppy, glossy tongue tasting him where heâs been neglected by another for so many years. How long had it been since a finger, other than his own, breached his ass? His fingers were always too rough to stimulate him well, the action feeling just as much like fingering an asshole as it did getting your asshole fingered, so eventually he justâŠlaid off. Â
The reverent brush of your tongue against his hole was euphoria itself. His cock responded immediately, pressing hard and stiff into the mattress. He shifts his hips, the resurgent erection in need of relief. His hips pushing back against your tongue, burying your face further was simply aâŠnice perk.Â
You giggled at his awkward shifts. Squirmy and out of practice, clearly he needed this. You spread him open again, giving the pretty hold large open-mouthed kisses. Your face is too buried to see the way he grabs the sheets, or the way his toes curl, pretty round arches forming in the balls of his feet. But Kishibe's chest and shoulders flush pink all the same. He feels a sticky, sickly steam of shame pull the moisture from his veins and pill up onto his neck. He has to bite his lip to keep from crying out. It's too early, embarrassingly early. Your tongue speeds up, lapping and spinning, spelling and curling. He pushes against the mattress, his hands sinking into the foam and cotton below.Â
Satisfied with the lubrication your spit has offered, you decide to up the ante. Carefully. You narrow your tongue and slowly slip it past his rim. Kishibe gasps, his hand shooting back to grip the back of your hair, keeping you still. A cracking gasp rips through his throat and out his mouth. He grips you before he can think whether he wants to push you deeper or pull you back. He pants against his forearm, fingers digging into your hair.Â
You keep your neck still, equally unsure of his next desire. A moment passed, then another. His fingers tight in your hair, unrelenting. You curled your tongue experimentally, he gripped your hair harder.Â
You obey. You wait. You wait until his fingers let up. It's a micro-movement when they do, but a permissive one. And you remove your tongue, resuming the kinder circular licks. This brings his hand back to his own head. Reaching behind his neck, interlocking fingers with the other ... stretching in front of him in wingspan extending lines⊠pushing himself back against you. It doesnât take long for your sloppy ass kissing to make him rock his hips back and fourth, grinding his cock into the pillow over and over again.Â
When he eats your ass, your always struck by the prickling abrasion of his stubble on the inside of your cheeks, without that to simulate for him, you feel compelled to emphasize the smoothness of your skin, choosing long, languid motions of the tongue over staccato, chopping gestures he favors. In this pursuit, you begin hinging your neck up and down the length of him, taking his full, ready balls into your mouth briefly, before releasing them and lapping upward, rounding his hole, and then back down to repeat. His mattress thrusting ceases and his back arches. Devilishly so. You slide your hands over the back of his hips, down the pretty arch, and scratch your nails down, leaving harsh red lines along the curve of his body.Â
âFuckâŠâ He groans, turning his head to the side, to try and catch your eye.Â
You reach below him, where his stiff, swollen red cock hangs, dripping pre cum down onto the mattress. You have now extended your field of effectiveness, your tongue now continuing below his sack and onto the shaft of his cock, sucking his tip into your mouth briefly before making your return journey up to his now quivering asshole. This brings his voice to life, a desperate wilting moan as you wrap your lips around his cock. No formation of words, something that vaguely sounds like âfuckâ or maybe âwhat?â, itâs hard to tell. But the sweet shatter of his resolve is reward enough for you to repeat your action. This time, his blisteringly fast reach behind to you, is aimed toward your neck, gripping the nape of your neck hard, his middle finger and thumb bruisingly tight. But notâŠrestrictively so. You can still hinge your neck freely, trailing your spit slick lips and tongue over every inch of his posterior. His grip on you seems more like a supportive one, rather than cautionary.Â
âFuuuuckâŠâHe finally manages, âI donât deserve you. I donât. I--aghh!â His head falls forward as you speed up along your runway.Â
His other hand grips the sheets under his head, which is buried in the crook of his elbow.Â
âYeah? You like getting your ass ate, Kishi?â You break before sucking the newest culmination of precum off of his cock head.Â
He nods into his elbow, a soft affirmative moan slipping past skin and cotton.Â
âOld dogs never forget their tricks, huh?â You grin, watching how his leaky cock lurches as your assertion, âYeah, you gonna let me fuck your ass, Kishi?âÂ
You swirl the flat of your palm around the tip of his cock, watching as his balls begin to scrunch up, preparing for the next phase. You kiss his hole gently, watching it flutter to kiss you back. He doesn't open his mouth to answer, just sinks his hips into your hand. You stroke him faster, squeezing your wet hand around him tighter. Low, rumbling moans are now constant from above you. You try to keep time with your mouth, your tongue growing languid and in need of rest, but you push on. Heâs so close and he needs your help. You feel your heart swell, his desperation so beyond pathetic, so touchingly human.Â
You circle the bell end of his cock, quickening your lapping tongue against his asshole. The muscles in Kishibeâs back flex together, the bow string of his spine pulling back, making him arch. Kishibe feels his eyes roll back, his jaw clenching, neck twitching. Weak, shameful whimpers wrack out of him. Your tongue breeches his hole, just barely, and it's enough to make him release onto the sheets below, into your hand, onto his stomach. Red throated, full veins pressing against his skin, hot blood inside pumping hard.Â
âGooooodâŠâ,You stroke him gently, working him through his orgasm, the added lubrication of his cum making his cock slippery and jumpy, âThatâs it, baby, cum for me.âÂ
More and more ropes of sticky, hot cum dress your fingers. He cried out, overstimulation boiling over. You slowed your hand to stillness. Watching the backs of his thighs shake as you pull off from him. You clean your hand with your tongue, sitting up, relishing in your hard work. Kishibe pants into the sweat and drool puddle he left behind on the pillow. The feeling of his cock squeezed between his stomach and the mattress makes him shudder out in nasty, heaved moans. He didnât feel like himself. Couldnât get his head straight. Thoughts and pleasure and euphoria swirling together in his overheated brain. It was all too fucking good.Â
Cock leaking, sweat pilling on his forehead, traitorous mouth drooling affirmation after affirmation, thinking he can't spill himself anymore to you, tears prick at the corners of his eyes.Â
âAhâagh!â He cried out, the touch drove him dizzy.Â
You let him go, easing your hand across his thigh, sticking orgasm coating his skin. Â
The swirl of his plane of vision settles back into its horizon line. The cream colored sheets wrinkled under his bent, grasping arm, the flush on his skin had crept all the way down to the back of his hand. The thin vein woven skin on the back of his hand was red and wet from sweat and spit, two of his fingers carried the indentations of his teeth. When had he bit down on his hand? God, what had come over him? He hadnât felt this inâŠso long. This vulnerable. ThisâŠtended to. ThisâŠ.spoiled. His stomach churned and his heart bloomed. The cavity of his torso fizzled underneath his skin. Like iron flecks guided by the magnetism of your hand, the nerves in his back reach up at your touch.Â
You smoothed down his spine, watching as his body relaxed. His hips relaxing into the mattress, the tension in the sides of his ass releasing with a soft breath. The curve of his lower back, sloping upward toward his back, the powerful ridges and shadows of muscle. You laid a kiss right in between his shoulder blades. Letting your nose trace the gentle valley of his spine.Â
Kishibe wets his lips, settling into the mattress, letting the soft hum of satisfaction soften his muscles and weigh his eyes.Â
âThink we could do that again?â He cracks open an eye, letting it trail down your body, a dangerous smile curling the side of his mouth.Â
This became a new routine for you. Steamy nights spent teasing and tasting, stretching and training. It didnât take long before he could take three of your fingers, your tongue soothing around his stretching hole, teaching him how to relax enough to take it. He was a natural. Slipping back into what had clearly been favored indulgence of his, however long ago it had been. He settled back like a duck to water. Growing more vocal experience by experience. And you were melted by the whimpers, the cracking of his pleasured voice, the slippery, wet mouthed begs.Â
âBabyâŠfuck, youâre perfectâŠThere.Â
Right there. Right thereâŠ.Harder baby,Â
fuck me.âÂ
Finally, he was ready for the big show. And you were starving for it. Each turn made you more desperate for the feeling of your hips flush against his ass, the sight of him completely at your mercy. It was becoming all you could think about. In between instances, it was all you could picture. The hours without him were still consumed by your obsessive fantasies of fucking him.Â
Finally, the night arrived. He came home, hungry already. Turning your face up to his lips as he slipped the door closed behind him with his foot. You take over his mouth quickly, and he allows you in immediately. Strong hands grope at your waist, your hips, your back. He shudders as your tongue slides past the still sensitive inner scarring of his mouth. His hands squeeze you tighter, needing your stability, needing you.Â
You prepared for this, all day in fact. A whole ritual of smoothing, shaving, and softening; lotions and perfumes working together to make you into the most touchable creature on earth. He would need something nice and soft to hold on to while you wore him down to nothing; smooth facades of hand grips to support himself on his pleasured descent. A soft, white waffle knit robe is tucked neatly across your chest, the waist tie knotted at your side, the split parting to reveal your legs as your shuffle back, leading him by his belt loops toward your bedroom.Â
Kishibe is eager to follow, his hands on your hips both pushing you through the door and gripping you tight to his body. Finally in the bedroom, Kishibe once again nudges the door behind you with his foot.Â
With the double assurances of locked doors, his inhibitions (if whatever a man like Kishibe has in the place of shame, can be likened to inhibition) fall. His hands part the top of your robe, pressing a warm palm to the hard bone of your sternum. A moment to decide culminates in his hand traveling to the left, caressing your breast, feeling your nipple harden against his palm. You let out a sweet, flighty moan, right up against his lips. Eager to hear more, Kishibeâs lips slip across your jaw and down your neck, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. Little shocks of voiced breath against his ear, your fingers gripping the cropped hair at the back of his neck. He pinches your nipple, making your hip buck forward, and he smiles against the slope of your neck. The lurch, the roll in your body makes his mind flash forward, he could practically feel the stretch, the fullness, the pressure in his pelvis, the feeling of your hands pushing him down, pressing against his back, on the back of his head. His mouth wets, tongue lolling out against your neck, tasting the soft chemical taste of your moisturizer, the one he teased made you smell like an old woman. You had mocked him right back, saying that if it did, then maybe he ought to use some. He had feigned a minor offense, and exercised the rest of his hurt by keeping you wanting an additional thirty minutes that night.Â
You pull him back to the present, sitting on the bed, pulling him forward with you. You hold his face, urging him to look at you, taking in his pleasure blown eyes, his wet, wanting mouth. You slid a finger over his bottom lip, his eyes never strayed, only drifting upward for a microsecond, before his tongue caught your eye, inching forward at the chance for a taste of your thumb.Â
You smile at him, pleased as can be with what heâs become, âOn your knees, baby.âÂ
Kishibe shudders, but exhilaration not fear tickles his senses. Kishibe moves onto his knees before you, rubbing his cheek along your left thigh, hearing you hiss above him as the stubble abrades the sensitive skin. His wide hands close around your ankles, easing your legs apart. Your robe parts at the front, your body is revealed. Kishibeâs eyes drag up your body, taking in your shapely legs, the crease of your hip meeting your torso, the curve of your waist, the pebbled surface of your nipples, all glorious. But what truly took his breath away was the strap indented flesh of your hips, following the black threaded strap down the V of your pelvis, leading to the base of the harness. A black diamond shaped base, a shining metal O ring at the front, holding firm a moderately thick, but eye-wideningly long rosy dildo.Â
Kishibeâs eyes flicked up to you, a smug eyebrow twitching upward, âYou chose pink?âÂ
You smile down at him, running a flat hand down your cunt, so that the base of that silicone cock rested at the slope between your thumb and index finger.Â
âThought it would match your lips.â You scooted forward, just enough so you could angle your new cock downward, running it along his bottom lip, tracing the plump half moon.Â
A near perfect match. Especially like this, kiss bitten and swollen, blood filling and blushing the thin skin of his lips.
âPretty, close.â Your hand cups his jaw, squeezing enough to hinge his jaw open slightly.Â
His eyes maintain that same fire of arrogance you were so familiar with. He was willing to let you play daddy, let you push him into the sheets, let you fuck him harder and harder until your hips gave out and he would have to show you how it was really doneÂ
âCome on, baby. Suck it for me. Show me how good you are with that pretty mouth.â You cooed down to him.Â
Kishibe feels himself leak against the fabric of his briefs. It dawned on him then that he was still wearing his suit. He had discarded his coat and shoes at the door, but still wore his shirt, pants, belt, hell even his tie. Heavy breath dewed the tip of your false cock. His tongue dipped out, sliding along the bottom, feeling the pearly-soft texture further and further into his mouth. He closes his mouth around the first inch, hollowing his cheeks, looking up at you, a renewed look in his eyes. Something soft, something pliant taking over.Â
âMmmm, beautiful.â You purr, watching carefully how his eyelashes flutter as he takes it deeper.Â
His hands itch to be off your legs, they tingle as his tie seems to tighten around his throat, the bulge your cock made tightening it even further. He presses further, feeling the tip begin to graze the back of his tongue. He fights back a gag, swallowing evenly. You ease back, your hips sliding forward, and run a hand through the hair on the crown of his head, pushing it back enough to see every crease of focus on his forehead. He really is a beautiful thing. Heavy lidded eyes, not closed but low and lazy. His mouth moving around your strap, tongue circling around the circumference, around and around.Â
Youâre not stupid. You know it's not real. You know that logically you canât feel the sweet suck of his mouth, the slip of his tongue like it was your actual cock. But it was wishful thinking, maybe it was powerful imagination, but you could feel it. You could feel the wet O of his lips around the girth of the toy as if it was your own, the ridges of the back of his throat, the gentle breath of his nose on the base he canât quite manage to take. Your head rocks back, and your hand slips down to feel the hollow of his cheek.Â
Kishibe lets go of your legs, sliding his hands up your sides, gripping one of your breasts. A soft hum vibrates from his chest. His other hand fiddles with his belt, struggling for a moment to remove it, before freeing his cock and taking it into his hand, feeling the leak of precum already beginning to spill. He strokes himself along with the bobbing of his head, pinching your nipple into a hard peak simultaneously.Â
You keen back, the sweet pain whiting out your vision for a half moment.Â
âAlright, baby,â you push him off, watching the silicon length slip past his lips, immediately moving to remove his tie and his shirt.Â
His wet cock hangs out of his pants, as you pull him to his feet, you shimmy his pants down his legs, taking your place on your knees in front of him. His cock bumps your face, and you giggle for a moment before sucking it into your mouth. Above you, he sheds his shirt, letting it fall down his arms behind him, both hands now free, he holds the sides of your head. You watch him from below, showing him how good you can take it.Â
How it's really done. Â
âSo competitiveâŠâHe rolls his eyes, as though he has read your mind.Â
You smirk around him, taking him all the way to the base, slurping down to his balls, nuzzling your nose into the tuft of public hair on his pelvis. His face scrunches, and he pulls you off him with one firm hand in your hair.Â
âOkay! OkayâŠyouâre the best, come on.â He grips your biceps, pulling you up to him and off your knees.Â
You nod hazily, kissing him hard and dropping your robe to the floor. You both climb onto the bed, letting the duvetâs cool cover slip against your fevering skin. He is quick to move onto his hands and knees, kissing you up until the last moment before his head sinks into the pillow he pulls forward from the rest. You slip off the bed, opening your bedside drawer and pulling the lube forth. But you didn't coat the strap yet, the sight of his plump ass raised in the air, cheeks parting as he shifts, giving you the tiniest peek at his pert hole. You move behind him, spreading him open watching it clench in anticipation. You spit, watching the glob of clear viscosity coat him.. Kishibeâs eyes roll back, letting his chest relax into the mattress.Â
âFuckâŠâ He mutters.Â
You lick him with a flat tongue again, squishing the meat of his ass in your hands, pressing them against your cheeks. With a lax tongue, you shake your head side to side, relishing in the crackling moans that pulls from him. Kishibeâs hands grip the sheets, arms flexing as he pushes himself back against your tongue. His hips are raised enough to take off most of the pressure from his leaking cock, but he craves more, he craves more stimulation. He whines, pushing back against your flicking devilâs tongue. And his greedy mouth whines as you pull back.Â
â.....no.â his whine forms a single word.Â
You reach beneath him and give his cock a decisive stroke, feeling his hips shudder. A devious smile curls across your lips, you already have him so reactive, so ready, so desperate.Â
âYou ready, baby?â You coo down to him, watching the back of his neck flush red.Â
He nods into the pillow, huffing out heavy breaths as you continue to pump his cock.Â
âI need to hear you say it.â You squeeze him, just below the head.Â
Kishibe hisses, resetting his jaw and looking over his shoulder, back to you.Â
âFuck me.âÂ
A sultry, dangerous shiver rocks down your spine, every hair standing on its end. You settle behind him, petting up his legs from his knees to his hips. The shaft of your strap nestles, as though magnetized, home between his cheeks. Itâs a beautiful sight. If you thought that the sight of him on his knees sucking your false cock was something out of a dream. This was heaven incarnate. Your brain, in all of its human hubris, couldnât have conjured something so erotic. The curve of his spine, weaving snakelike and sultry, the soft dips of his hips above each cheek, smiling back at you. You had never felt so powerful. So in your body. So realized in your sexuality.Â
You donât miss the way he seems to shiver at the click of the lubricant lid opening. You coat the strap, you coat his hole, making sure it glistens the dim bedroom light. You slip two fingers into him, they glide easily, the work you have done in preparation proving successful. Curling your fingers up, you watch the beads of sweat pill up along his neck.Â
âBreathe.â You remind him and he lets out a clenched breath.Â
You give your strap another half dose of lubricant before lining it up at his hole. You suck in, your lower lip caught between your teeth, as you watch your tip slip into his asshole. The whole head disappears easily, the second inch takes a touch more effort, the third inch makes his jaw clench. He squeezes his eyes tight, and while the muscles in his abs and back pull tight, he pushes his hips back for more. He needs more. And you canât leave him wanting.Â
You press further, letting your hands squeeze into the flesh of his hips, holding his waist steady, reminding him that you have him, that heâs safe. He relaxes enough for you to ease in another inch or so. Now you can really reach the sweeter sin inside of him. Kishibe moans, long and howling into the ceiling. You offer a satisfied hum in response, watching carefully as his head cranes back before dipping down between his shoulders, his voice dipping lower in the same swoop.Â
âThatâs it baby, relax for me.â You thrust back a few inches, watching as his hips try to fight your hold and follow your retreating cock.Â
Thick, crackling moans almost in a laughing cadence ruminate from his throat. You can see the crease of his smile from over his shoulder. One of those wicked black eyes keeps you locked in his sights, not willing to lose where you are. He is tracking you. His body is tightening once more, hindering your advance on him. Something animal is taking over, something predatory and innate. Something that no matter how much he may want to give away or let go of, he will never be freed from. This defensive nature that kept you, and anyone else, at a bladeâs length. Or so he has always understood. But you now, behind him, penetrating him, wanton eyes filled with love and begging for his trust. Youâre making him lose his muscle memory. Practiced protections falling aside. You lean over him, sinking the rest of the dildo into him, feeling the soft flesh of his ass press against the tingling, anticipatory skin of your thighs. An uninhibited, unabashed moan rips from him. He howls, chest falling to the mattress below. He reaches up, burrowing under the pillows, giving you a stadium show of the musculature of his back. Lats extending, shoulderblade sliding back, rhomboid muscles flexing under his skin.Â
Finally, completely sheathed inside of him, you pant into the bedroomâs air. You dig your fingertips into his flesh, now needing the stability of his body. Solid and sturdy underneath you, shared gasps leak from your joined bodies.Â
After a moment, Kishibeâs arms find their way underneath him again, allowing him the strength to push off the mattress and turn back to you, a dangerous, arrogant smile peeling back his lips. Before his cocky taunts can leave him, you push down on the center of his back, and his arms waiver. You use this leverage to pull your hips back and fuck into him again. He lets himself fall back into the pile of sheets and blankets below, raising his hips up to meet you.Â
âCocky fuck. I like you better like this, honey.â You mutter, trying to garner a proper rhythm, something consistent, something you can build.Â
Each thrust into him knocks another crumbly moan from him. Your hands struggle to find a proper docking ground for you to hold yourself up, the skin under your hands bending and pushing upward, leaving red pressure wakes behind.Â
Kishibe fucks his hips back to meet you, the open hinge in his jaw letting drool and moans seep out oof him and onto the sheets below in equal flow. Your thrusts are jagged and uneven but youâre fucking deep. Really god damn deep. This new toy of yours is bigger than the ones you retrained him with. His tongue lolls out, pressing against the cotton sheets. He longs for the taste of your cunt on his tongue. Or the soft tangle of your own tongue with his. Or the taste of your sweat seasoned skin for him to lap at while you fuck him deeper and deeper still.Â
You fuck into him in a particularly sloppy thrust, making him groan at the shimmering pang of pleasure, although uncoordinated and clumsy. He knows you can do better.
Those black eyes roll to meet yours, firey in thier judgement, âWho taught you to fuck like that?â Kishibe supports himself on his elbows, a nasty, taunting smirk burning through you, â...Cause I know it wasnât me.âÂ
You shove his face down into the bed, keeping your arm strong and firm on the side of his head. The asshole, himself, laughs at your attempt to dominate him. His asshole, however, clings to the shaft of your dildo as you pull out of him, nearly completely, just allowing the head to stay inside. Clingy as he feels, you know he can take it. You won't break him. Even if you wish you could. Even if he wishes you could.Â
You thrust back into him completely, bottoming out with a loud smack of skin against skin. Kishibe wilts into the mattress, jaw clenched grunts being swallowed by the pillowâs filling. You roll your body, sending ripples through his spine.Â
âFuck!â Shaky, shallow breaths wrack his body, âFu--fuck.âÂ
A nasty, prideful fire scorched your chest, threatening to burn straight through your skin. Skin that seems to remember all the times he had bullied you into this very same mattress, all the times he had mocked your whimpering moans, your tearing eyes and shaking legs.Â
Venom slips its syrupy hand up your throat, âYouâre a real slut, huh? Taking my cock in your ass so easily, already whining like the bitch you are.âÂ
Kishibeâs eyes roll back, drool puddling beneath his cheek. Heâs ready to drown in it when your nails rake through his hair, gripping his roots and yanking his head back. The whine he lets out is wet and high and dangerously shameful. You piston your hips harder, letting him feel every inch that leaves and every inch that reenters even harder. Each thrust makes him whimper. You bottom out, pulling his hair back harder.Â
âAgh! Ow, fuck baby!â Â
âOhâŠPoor thing, canât take a little tug anymore?â You mock, pulling him back harder.Â
Kishibe cranes back with a shout. The leverage of holding his head back gives you the perfect angle to hit his prostate. You can tell from the way his cock begins to weep. You move down the v line of his body, feeling him shudder against your hips.Â
âThink I know how to make the Mad Dog my bitch, huh?â You wrap one hand around the base of his cock.Â
He ails again, wanting to fall forward, but your grip on his hair keeps him stuck, he pushes his hands underneath him, giving him the chance to fuck his hips back against yours. Kishibe canât believe the fullness, the pressure, the building pleasure behind his cock already starting to leak into your palm. He didnât think he would feel this pathetic. That he could already feel the tug of release beginning to wax. But your voice in his ear, the nastiness you spoke, the transformation heâd seen in youâŠit was going to ruin him. Behind his desperately clenched eyes are fireworks, shimmering displays of his pleasure fried synapses.Â
âYou feel that, baby?â You pump his cock once, your hips still moving, your abs beginning to ache from over use, âYouâre so hard, youâre so wet. Youâre pathetic.â
He can't help the weak moan, doesnât even want to anymore.Â
âOh you like that? Being called pathetic while I fuck you?â You mock again, feeling how his cock lurches in your hand, your coordination works at its maximum to maintain a consistent pump on his cock and rhythm fucking him.Â
Kishibe can barely hold himself up, his mouth wonât stop. But neither will yours.Â
âYou gonna come for me, Kishi? You gonna cum all over yourself, get my bed all dirty? Huh? You just canât stop yourself can you?â You press your forehead into the back of his neck, trying your hardest to ignore the burn in your middle.Â
You could not stop now. He was leaking more, the sweet sounds of his fucked out body was bringing you close to a touch free orgasm than you ever even considered.Â
âKishi, cum for me. Cum. Be my bitch, baby. Tell me you wanna cum.â You ordered, coming out more as a plea than a command.Â
â--easâŠâ A weak voice colors his moan.Â
âYou can do it, come on. Tell me what you need.â You circle your palm over his cock head.Â
â...please. Please, baby. Please let me cum.Â
Fuck me. Make me cum, please.Â
Please.âÂ
Youâve known Kishibeâs body long enough, known the intricacies of his intimacy long enough to know the exact sound he makes when he cums inside of you, how it differs from the sound he makes when he cums in your mouth, or when he spills himself onto your ass, how his face scrunches above you, how his toes curl underneath you; but what you had never gotten to see, was the placid, peaceful jaw-slacking pleasure that overcame him when his orgasm is fucked out of him. The harsh lines of his face seem to disappear, a dewiness illuminating his skin. His head falls forward, arms below him giving out. Your hand in his hair having moved to his shoulder, to drive your cock into him further, and further, before stalling inside, pressing hard into his twitch prostate. Your hand under him is wetted; thick cum spilling between your fingers, onto the bed below you, pooling in your palm. Heâs nearly silent as his orgasm strangles him into full submission, taking him over completely before releasing him, chest first onto the sweat and spend soiled bed below.Â
You pants behind him, abs burning torturously, the lactic acid already starting to settle in your waist and thighs. You give him a moment to breathe, you smooth your hands down his sides, watching how he shivers in response. You want to lean over, to kiss his wet cheek, to share the taste of his pleasured mouth. But you donât dare risk ruining this for him, or pushing him into overstimulation. When you do finally pull out, you watch him fully relax. You crawl over to the empty side of the bed, the night already playing back behind your eyes. His body, the moonlight illuminating his skin as the night wore on, the soundscape still ringing in your ears. Effort finally claims your body, sore muscles no longer straining with activity begin to knit themselves back together.Â
With a content, smiling sigh, you reach down for the tri-glide fastener to release the harness, but another hand beats you there. Kishibeâs forefinger and thumb pinch the primary fold, pulling it loose, and slipping the glider down, relieving the tension on your right hip. You feel his chest press flush against your back and then his lips on your neck. You release the other side of the harness as his nose brushes up the sternocleidomastoid muscle in your neck. The harness, now completely slack, droops with the weight of the dildo, you lean back on Kishibeâs chest to slide it off your legs and onto the bedroom floor. He collects you in exchange, bringing you back onto the cent of the bed with him, not caring about the puddle underneath you both. You roll to face him, wrapping your arms around his body and pressing a firm kiss to his mouth. He is still panting, so it breaks quickly. There is a soft daze in his eyes, you are unsure if it is exhaustion or endorphins.Â
Kishibe would call it love. Or rather, he would recognize it as love, as trust come to fruition, as intimacy and passion creating a night that makes him curse and bless every misstep of his fucked up life that brought him here in the very same breath. He leans in to kiss you again, feeling the declaration dangerously close to his lips. And you cork him, flawlessly. Although, he does wonder if there's a chance, even a slim one, that the taste of his love slips past, and confesses to you all the same.
I hope y'all enjoyed! i really enjoyed writing this one and it took me a WHILE, but I really hope it was worth it. I have some more coming down the pipe and some WONDERFUL requests!! Thank y'all so much. You guys are the best! -- Doodle. xx
