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#csm kishibe
obliviani · 12 days
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brief photo study
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shaisuki · 8 months
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they're old but not that old. what is it when they're only a few years older than you but they still feel the years creeping up on them. they don't worry about that though when there's a soft, plump, young girl taking their cock like a champ.
"what's this?" he mused to himself while he watches you desperately matches the thrust of his hips. "can't get enough of this old man's cock? you're a young, pretty little thing but look at you..." chuckling to himself when you're pleading for him to bring you release. your sweet cunt clenching to him. "atta girl, impatient girls like you don't get to cum."
they like the tears gathering in your lashes when they deny you of release. it only spurs them more as you take their thick cock into your wet pussy.
"please...—make me cum" there's a hiccup followed by a sob as the tears starts to roll into your cheeks. rolling your hips to feel the veins in his cock to your spasming wall. desperate and confused why they won't let you cum. how could you understand what they're saying when your attention is how their cock stretched inside you and their bulbous tip is hitting your sensitive spot making you gush over their length.
“daddy, please” whining and begging to grant you of pleasure. “i'm a good girl, aren't i daddy? please make me cum. give me your babies”
that made their cock throb even more. twitches at how you beg to stuff you full of their cum. shit. they won't last long while you're so adorable in pleading.
“of course, baby. you're a good girl.” they praises you. holding your round cheeks in their huge palm while speeding up their thrusts. your body involuntarily jiggling and leaves you drooling in the corners of your mouth. too dumb and cock drunk to think anything than their cocks filling you up.
with a bruising kiss in your lips and a violent jerk of their hips. hot and creamy spurts of their cum fills you to the brim. painting your insides white and you're seeing white from the euphoria that you were given off. thick thighs trembling while their cum drips and runs to your inner thighs.
“geez, such a needy whore. i guess you need more of this cock, huh?”
“yes, daddy.”
TOJI, KISHIBE, ROMERO, KEISHIN, AIZAWA
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jinnseigame · 1 year
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傷上手く描けたので見て
若干修正
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seneon · 14 days
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"fuck your boyfriend, he a bitch." boyfriend referring to your 6 year old stinky plushie that you sleep with which hasn't been washed in months. probably even years. he's just jealous because your "male" plushie gets to be cuddled by you and not him. he calls your cute little plushie 'a bitch' because he absolutely despises the unalive creature. everytime he sees you holding the toy, he'd say "i think it's time you switch." switch what? switch the plush with him.
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reo, dot, renji, otoya, denji, orter, grimmjow, ikkaku, kaldo, yoshida, wirth, kishibe, slursagi, rin, sae, additionally the uchiha + senju clan boys.
© SENEON 2024 ♰ do not repost, alter, or translate.
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g00miato · 2 months
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Yes sir 🫡
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mncxbe · 1 month
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𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭...
ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑𝒄𝒘: nsfw, age gap implied, subby men~ they cry a bit, overstimulation, wish that was me
Men who live for those few hours between work and sleep that they get to spend with you. Their job is awfully stressful– just problems after problems and incompetent underlings they need to deal with every day. There's too much responsibility, too much pressure and weight on their shoulders, but you're always there to take it away.
Men who don't even bother with pleasantries before loosening their tie and grumbling about how tiring work is. When they slump on the cushy mattress in your bedroom you're right beside them, helping them take off their clothes while you listen to them vent about their day. "Don't worry, dear, I got you" you reassure them in that soothing voice of yours and they can already feel their frustrations melting away.
Men who let you take the lead, willingly submitting to you because they're so tired of always having to be in charge and ordering people around. It's a nice change of pace– them laying limp between the crisp sheets while you rock your hips against theirs, their cock nestled deep inside your sweet cunt. In moments like these, they finally allow themselves to slip off the mask they're forced to wear every day and just be.
Men whose minds go blank when you praise them for their work. Just knowing that you appreciate and value what they do, that you acknowledge their worries makes the knot in the pit of their stomach thighten. It doesn't take long for them to grip your hips and squirm under your weight, their breath coming out quicker, shallower as gruff moans fall from their lips. When they cum their whole body tenses up, milky white seed spilling deep inside you. "You're so good for me tonight, darling. Think you can take more?" you ask and of course they can. They're good for you, always.
Men who lose all their composure after you coax a few more orgasms out of them. They can barely keep their gaze locked on yours from that sweet mixture of pleasure of pain making their head spin– it hurts, they feel like they can't physically take it anymore, but they don't have the heart to stop you. After all, this is their only escape from those straining jobs and duties and if relishing this sheer bliss meant being so vulnerable and completely at your mercy they'd gladly do it.
Men who don't bother to hide the pretty tears brimming at the corner of their eyes and choke on heavy sobs as you keep riding them. "Poor you..." you coo, brushing away the tears with your fingertips, your touch soft as silk against their rougher skin "You really needed this didn't you darling?" They nod eagerly, hissing sharply when you start bouncing on their cock again– they can feel each drag of your gummy walls against his cock and it's driving them crazy. Frankly, the fact that they're still hard after cumming so many times is a miracle, but you seem adamant to get another orgasm out of them. "Come on, you can do it just one more. Wanna make sure you really fill me up this time, ok?" you urge nonchalantly as if his lap wasn't already covered in sticky cum and slick.
Men who cry out praises and thank yous as they reach their high for the nth time that night, their back slightly arching off the bed before melting back into the mattress. They peer at you through droopy eyes, their grip on your thighs or waist loosening as you lay on their chest with their cock still sheathed inside you. Their heart flutters when you kiss their face oh so softly and lovingly, they feel so warm and welcomed in your embrace and swear they could fall asleep like this every night. But hey, they actually can and do, because you're always there for them, ready to soak them in your love.
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𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺: 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐢, 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐞, 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐊𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐚, 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚, 𝐅𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐳𝐚𝐰𝐚, 𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐨, 𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚 (𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠)
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daisynik7 · 5 months
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Cure for a Hangover
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Pairing: Kishibe x f!reader
Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Word Count: ~3.9k
cw: next-door neighbor Kishibe, age gap (I’m thinking at least fifteen years, Kishibe pushing mid-forties, reader is in her late 20s/early 30s), alcohol consumption, p*rn no plot, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl), blowjob, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, nipple play, pet names (sweetheart, angel, kiddo)
Summary: Kishibe is your mysterious, brooding, and significantly older next-door neighbor. You’ve lived beside him for a while now, only exchanging basic pleasantries out of politeness, never anything more. One night, he comes home drunk, or so he thinks. It’s not his door he’s slumped again; it’s yours.
Author’s Notes: It’s been a minute since I wrote for Kishibe and I really do miss it. This old man continues to do wonders to me, so I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks! MDNI divider credit to @/cafekitsune.
Taglist: @batafuraikisu @neverlandlostchild @bloompompom @dprkento @a-listaire @man-knees @demonwoman (bc Kishibe using kiddo as a pet name is living in my head rent free thanks to you)
part 3 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series
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It’s not often that you’re met with a man slumped against your door, but here you are, staring down at your next-door neighbor, Kishibe, doing just that. 
It’s past two in the morning now, and you’ve just come back from your own night out with your friends. You’re not nearly as drunk as you were three hours ago, after pounding glasses of Chardonnay while watching cheesy romance movies at your best friend’s apartment. And you’re certainly not as inebriated as the man before you, who absolutely reeks of liquor, even from a small distance away. 
You inspect the scene thoroughly, unsure what to do in this scenario. Kishibe is basically a stranger to you. Sure, you’ve exchanged basic pleasantries here and there over that past year since you moved in. That’s as far as it goes. You have no idea what his profession is, though you have a solid guess as to what it could be, given his work attire and overall physique. While you’ve never run into one yourself, devils run rampart in Tokyo, hell-bent on causing chaos wherever they spawn. Kishibe looks like a Devil Hunter, whose job is to eliminate these monsters. It’s intriguing, that’s for sure, but you’ve never mustered the courage to ask him about it, leaving him to maintain his mysterious demeanor. 
However, right now, you don’t see a Devil Hunter in front of you. Instead, it’s a simple man who is very drunk and very much in your way.
Deciding to help him, because that’s the only choice you have if you want to get into your apartment, you kneel down to search his overcoat, patting the breast pocket for keys. When you find nothing, you move to his pants, retrieving only his phone. His eyes are closed and he’s snoring, blissfully unaware of your predicament in his drunken stupor. You take this time to study his face. He’s looks much older up close; not only that, he’s even more handsome than you originally thought. There’s a prominent scar running from his mouth to his jaw, surely an interesting story behind it. You’re tempted to trace it delicately with your finger, but you ultimately resist the urge, snapping out of it to investigate his phone for any clues. 
There are several missed calls and texts from a person named Kenji. You use the Face ID feature to unlock his phone, thanking the universe that even with his eyes shuts, it works. Not wanting to pry more than necessary, you check the most recent texts for the answer to your question: Where the hell are his keys?
Kenji: you left your keys at the bar, come back now. I’m closing up soon
Kenji: I’m not waiting for your ass
Kenji: I’m leaving, get them tomorrow
You read over the messages once more, groaning quietly to yourself at your dumb luck. Desperate now, you resort to the next logical step.
“Hey,” you say, tapping him lightly on the cheek, rousing him awake. “Kishibe.”
Slowly, but surely, he opens his eyes, half-lidded, struggling to focus on you. “Huh?” His breath is heavy with liquor, most likely whiskey. His voice is deep and gravelly, and you hate admitting that’s it’s almost sexy. Well, not almost. It is sexy. 
Letting the inappropriate thought fade, you say, “You’re at the wrong apartment. This is mine.”
He blinks three times, opening his eyes properly to stare at you, expression confused. “Am I dead?”
You bite your lip, holding back laughter. “No, you’re not.”
“Am I in heaven?”
You shake your head, repeating, “No, you’re not.”
“Then why is there any angel here with me?” He sounds sincere, and you can’t help but break out into a genuine smile. 
“I’m not an angel,” you reply, giggling. 
His lips curve into a cocky grin. “You sure? You look like one to me.” Cheeky bastard, hitting on you while he’s plastered. And look at you, finding it endearing when he does. 
Slightly more relaxed, you slide the phone into his breast pocket, standing up to unlock your door. You can’t just leave him out here all night, so you decide to let him stay with you until he’s sober enough to call a locksmith. You jiggle the keys, turning the knob to open the door, and suddenly, there’s a loud thud, and then a delayed, “Ow.” He’s laid flat in the middle of your doorway, hitting his head on the hardwood. You feel guilty, not having the foresight to see this coming. His body is much sturdier than you anticipated. 
You kneel down, apologizing. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
He winces, rubbing the back of his skull, then gives you a goofy smile. “I’ll be fine. Think I can get a kiss to make it feel better?”
You roll your eyes at him, once again unable to contain your laughter. “I’ll get you some ice. Let’s get you to the couch first, okay?”
Somehow, some way, whether it’s spurred by adrenaline or desperation to finally get some sleep in your own bed, you manage to haul him up by the armpits and drag him the short distance to your couch. You fluff a pillow and place it under his head, making it as comfortable as possible for him. “I’ll get the ice now.”
Before you can stand up, he grabs your wrist, gripping you tightly. “What about my kiss?”
“Nope. Not happening. I bet you don’t even know my name,” you challenge him.
He doesn’t respond, loosening his hold so you can get up. You fill a plastic bag with ice, returning to surround the back of his head with it. Eventually, he utters your name, eyes closed while he relaxes to your touch. He peeks at you with one eye open, waiting for you to confirm. 
You nod, grinning. “So, you do know my name.”
“Can I get my kiss now?” he teases, gazing at you.
You shake your head. “Definitely not. I will not take advantage of a drunk person, that’s fucked up.”
He sighs, exhaling deeply, broad chest rising and falling. “Yeah, you’re right. I knew you were a good girl.”
You try not to hang on to those words, especially the last two, already fluttering below your belly over it. Grabbing his hand to replace yours, you instruct him to keep it there while you return to the kitchen to pour him a large glass of water. Within the short amount of time you’re gone, he falls asleep, his hand barely holding onto to the ice pack. 
You smile to yourself, setting the glass of water down on the coffee table to continue attending to his minor injury. After a while, when you notice that there isn’t any bump or swelling developing, you stop icing him. He snores peacefully in a deep sleep, no sign of waking up anytime soon. As gingerly as you can, you remove his overcoat, draping it over the back of the couch. You set his phone next to the glass of water, for easy access. His tie looks tight around his collar, so you loosen it. Finally, you remove his shoes from his feet, laying them by the front door near your own pair. You’re certain he’ll wake up in the morning, feeling like shit, so you place a bottle of painkillers by his phone in case he needs them. 
It's past three now by the time you’re dressed down in your pajamas and snuggled in bed. You keep the door ajar, listening to Kishibe’s steady breathing in the living room, treating it like white noise to help you fall fast asleep. 
~~~
Kishibe wakes up with his head throbbing. He stares up at the ceiling, not recognizing it as his own. It doesn’t take long for him to realize that this isn’t his apartment. 
He turns, seeing his phone, a glass of water, and a bottle of painkillers on the coffee table arm’s reach of him. Slowly, he sits up, grimacing from the pain, downing all the water in three large gulps. He checks his phone, thankfully still on its last leg of battery. It’s almost eleven on a Saturday morning and he’s sure Kenji, his bartender friend, is already awake, preparing for the day. 
“Kenji,” he mutters, throat hoarse from last night’s festivities. 
His friend first berates him for forgetting his keys, then laughs when Kishibe explains that somehow, some way, he managed to fall asleep on someone else’s couch. He could have woken up in worst conditions, that’s for sure. 
Kenji agrees to stop by after running his errands, in about two hours or so. Beggars can’t be choosers, so Kishibe has no choice but to wait. When they’re phone conversation is over, he sinks back into the cushions, trying to piece everything together from just a few hours ago. He recalls snippets of it, and he grows increasingly embarrassed as the memories play vividly in his brain. He’s certain he called his neighbor an angel, and even more sure that he was begging her for a kiss. How shit-faced was he to compel him to do that? Obviously, very. How could he let his intrusive thoughts blurt out of his mouth like that?
Call it cliché or whatever, but yes, Kishibe is attracted his young, pretty neighbor next door. However, he’s held off on making a move because he doesn’t want to make things between them awkward. Once he crosses that line, their relationship gets more complicated. And the devil knows that Kishibe doesn’t do complicated. So, he’s content with gazing from afar, exchanging basic small talk with one another whenever they pass each other in the hallway. That’s as far as it’s gone with her, and that’s as far as it will go. 
Of course, that’s all fucked up now thanks to his drunken antics from last night. 
Before he can make his move, he hears a bedroom door creak open from behind him. She comes out, looking fresh out of the shower, dressed in skimpy pajama bottoms that are short enough to expose that tantalizing curve right below her ass. Surely, she’s doing this on purpose, right? She has to know how fucking sexy she looks right now, there’s no way she doesn’t. 
He clears his throat, preparing to explain himself right off the bat to avoid an awkward confrontation. But he’s rendered momentarily speechless when she flashes a bright smile at him. “Morning, Kishibe.”
He huffs out a short laugh. “Morning.”
She steps towards him, sitting at the opposite end of the couch by his feet. Her shorts ride up and he’s sure he can see the lacey outline of her panties. Or maybe it’s just his perverse imagination, who knows at this point. “How are you feeling?” she asks, genuinely concerned.
He grunts. “Like shit,” he answers. “But it could be worse.”
“That’s the spirit,” she teases, patting his knee. 
His head pounds from his hangover, though it’s his heartbeat that thumps loudly against his eardrums, aroused by her touch. He has got to control himself. Doing his best to distract her from the raging boner growing beneath his slacks, he asks, “What happened last night?”
She explains her account of the evening in detail, her voice soft and soothing, cautious of his current headache. She leaves out the parts where he embarrasses himself, which he’s grateful for, not wanting to relive the humiliation. When she’s done, she offers, “If you want, you can take a shower while you wait for your friend to arrive. I can get you some towels. I even have a toothbrush you can use.”
He raises a brow at her. “Are you trying to tell me I stink?”
“Do you need someone to tell you that you stink? I thought it was pretty obvious given the state you’re in,” she quips, matching his expression.
He laughs, genuinely amused by her response. “Yeah, can’t argue with that.”
She leads him into her bathroom, showing him how to work the knob for hot water, pointing out the shampoo, conditioner, and soap kept neatly on a corner shelf of her bathtub. She lingers for a bit while he starts the shower, then hands him a clean towel and new toothbrush. “Let me know if you need anything.” 
Surprisingly, he makes it through his shower without succumbing to the temptation to touch himself. As degenerate as he can be, he still has some sense of respect and pride in him, enough to resist masturbating in his neighbor’s shower. He does, however, give her shampoo and conditioner bottles an extra-long sniff.
He dries off, scrubbing his hair with the towel, cleaning behind his ears with cotton swabs, checking his piercings. Towel wrapped around his waist, he brushes his teeth, making sure to go the full two minutes, scrubbing his tongue after. He hasn’t made the best impression so far, so he figures he should try to change that now, if there’s still a chance. Feeling fresh and clean, he stares down at his clothes in a pile on the floor. Even from where he stands, he can smell them, almost like they’ve been diluted in liquor and musk. Without thinking, he steps out of the bathroom, calling out her name. “Got any clothes I could borrow?”
She’s in the kitchen when he comes out, leaning over the stove as she cooks something that smells wonderful. She turns to face him, staring wide-eyed as he stands almost naked in the middle of her living room. Her gaze drifts down his bare body, lingering on his sculpted abs, then at the towel wrapped precariously around his waist. She snaps out of it in time, saying, “I don’t. Sorry.”
“My clothes fucking stink and I don’t want to wear them right now. Mind if I just walk around like this?” 
“Sure. I mean, I don’t mind.” She focuses her attention back to the pan, continuing to cook what looks like scrambled eggs. 
He knows this is a bizarre request, though this day couldn’t get any more bizarre than it already is, can it?
~~~
You’re not exactly sure how to refuse Kishibe’s request to walk around half naked in your apartment, so instead, you agree to it, claiming that you don’t mind. In actuality, you mind very much, simply because you can’t help but fantasize about the delicious sight beneath the towel. One wrong move like a bump to the hip is all it takes to see that pesky cover fall down. Geez, when did you become such a pervert? And for an old man?!
Desperate for a distraction, you maintain focus on the eggs in front of you. While he was in the shower, you decided to start breakfast, something hearty to combat that hangover of his. Scrambled eggs, toast, and sausage, comforting foods to soak up the remaining alcohol left in his body. He makes his way towards you, scooting a chair out from the table to take a seat. He strategically maneuvers himself to not accidentally expose you, though you really don’t mind if he does. Again, perverted thoughts, shame on you!
Finished cooking, you scoop the eggs out onto his plate and the other meant for you. He thanks you, taking a whiff of his breakfast, a small smile on his face. “Smells good.”
You pass him another glass of liquid, this one filled with an electrolyte drink meant for hydration after a night of drinking. “Drink this. It’ll help with your hangover.”
He eyes it suspiciously, then takes a gulp without questioning it further. 
The two of you eat in a comfortable silence, ignoring the obvious tension hanging in the air. From your peripheral, you notice the glint of steel hooked to his ear lobe. Piercings, which you never noticed before. Sexy.
He ends up finishing his entire meal, popping a few painkillers to chase it all down. He even chugs the electrolyte drink, claiming it isn’t so bad. While you take the last few bites of your toast, he excuses himself to brush his teeth again. You’re surprised at how hygienic he is, considering how he appeared before you just mere hours ago, hunched against your front door covered in his own liquor-soaked sweat. You take the plates, stacking them in the sink to wash for later. How much longer is his friend going to take to arrive here? You’re getting nervous, thinking of other ways to fill this gap of time without making your attraction to him so obvious. 
You sit on the couch, turning the TV on to a random sitcom with the volume low, listening to the rush of water from the faucet inside the bathroom. When it stops, you try to find a comfortable position to sit in. It’s only now that you realize how short your pajama bottoms are; they ride all the way up your thighs and you can practically see your underwear through them. It’s too late to change when Kishibe returns, still clad in just a towel, taking a seat on the other side of the couch a safe distance beside you. It’s silent for a brief moment, neither of you knowing what to say in this odd situation. You shift nervously, tugging at the hem of your shorts. 
“Thank you,” he starts, avoiding your gaze, staring ahead at the television. “For taking care of me. Must have been annoying to deal with a drunken old man.”
You smile, relaxing. “It wasn’t so bad. Besides, I couldn’t just leave you out there like that. Someone could have taken advantage of you.”
“Like you almost did?” he smirks, facing you now.
Laughing, you meet his gaze. “You remember that?”
“I do.” He spreads his legs apart just barely, towel draped dangerously over his knee, almost ready to slip.
You swallow hard, avoiding a glance in that direction, heat surrounding your cheeks. “Well, I was a good girl, remember? I didn’t do anything.”
He hums, nodding slowly, eyes drilling into yours. “You were a very good girl.”
Your breath hitches and you find yourself gravitating towards him, scooting closer. He grins, the scar on his cheek curving with it, voice low and seductive. “You gonna be bad for me now?”
“Only if you want me to,” you purr, sliding your hand beneath the towel, up his thigh, arousal pooling between your legs. Fuck it. He wants it, you want it. There’s no denying it anymore. 
“Fuck,” he swears under his breath, pulling you in for a kiss. His mouth is cool and minty against yours, the remnants of toothpaste lingering in his spit. You slurp it up, hungry for any taste of him. He removes the towel from his waist, shrugging it to the floor, leaving him completely naked. You glance at his lap and bite back a moan, amazed at how fucking big he is, way too eager to have him inside you, desperate to be filled to the brim.
“Not bad for an old man, huh?” he chuckles, wrapping his fist around the shaft, stroking it.
“Not bad at all,” you smile, stripping out of your clothes hastily, kneeling between his legs with your mouth open.
He feeds you his cock, humming when you surround him in your wet heat, swallowing him to the hilt. One hand grips the back of your head, guiding you gently up and down his shaft. “You’re filthy, taking your neighbor’s cock like this. Who knew you’d be such a slut?” he mutters, caressing the side of your face with his other hand. “Touch yourself while I fuck this filthy mouth. Get that pretty pussy wet for me.”
You obey, spurred on by his vulgarity, reaching for your arousal, rubbing your throbbing clit with fast fingers. His cock hits the back of your throat and you guzzle him down to resist gagging, drool leaking from the sides of your lips. He moans, bucking his hips slightly, enraptured by you. With his thumb, he brushes away a tear welling at the corner of your eye, pulling out halfway. “Don’t hurt yourself, kiddo. It’s okay if I’m too much for you.”
You release him completely, moving down to his balls, nuzzling your nose to them. “I can take it, don’t worry.”
He clicks his teeth, beckoning you on the couch, almost like you’re being scolded for something you weren’t supposed to do. You roll your eyes, sitting beside him begrudgingly. He leans close to you, hot on your ear, one hand sliding between your legs while the other continues to stroke his dick. “I want to touch you too. That okay?”
You whine in response, tugging him in for a passionate kiss. He massages deep circles around your clit, fingers squelching from your slick gathering along your entrance. “I want a taste,” he growls, splitting apart your thighs, staring at your glistening cunt. 
You nod, sinking into the couch, relinquishing all control to him. You let your pleasured moans speak for you as he dives into your pussy, eating you out sloppily. His facial hair grazes against you with each careful stroke of his tongue and you ache to see his chin shiny with your cum. Eventually, he slips inside you, pumping two digits in and out, mouth still working your bud. Soon, it becomes too much and you’re gushing for him, whimpering his name with ragged breaths, soaking his face in your essence. 
He chuckles, the vibrations resonating to your clit, causing you to twitch with overstimulation. “That’s my girl, making such a mess for me.”
“Fuck me, Kishibe,” you breathe out, craving to be stuffed full of him. You’re reeling from your high, and if he’s not inside you soon, you’re sure you’ll go insane.
He hoists you up onto his lap, precum oozing from the tip of his dick. “How about you fuck me? Show me how much of a slut you are.”
Too fucked out to argue, you lift up on your knees, position him to your wet hole, sinking down slowly. He slides in easily, pussy sleek from your previous orgasm. It’s better than you imagined, every inch of him stimulating every inch of you. You savor it, rocking against him slowly. He kisses along on your neck, trailing to your nipples to suckle on them. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he moans, thrusting up into you to match your rhythm. “Take this cock however you like. It’s all yours.”
You bounce on him faster, whimpering into his mouth as you kiss him. He palms your ass cheeks, squeezing them in his firm grip, delivering a few loud smacks that echo off the walls of your living room, stinging your skin. “Fuck, I knew you were a good girl. Knew it the moment I met you,” he growls, pressing his thumb to your swollen clit. “Always wanted you like this.”
You kiss him harder at his confession, your chest swelling, pussy fluttering. You’re approaching another climax, teetering on the edge. As if he senses it, he tightens his hold on you, fucking into you faster, deeper. “Come for me, angel. Come on this cock.”
And you do, clenching him with your orgasm, making him mutter, “Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming with you.” He shoots his load inside you, filling you up, just like you wanted. 
It takes a moment for the two of you to catch your breaths, relaxing into each other’s arms, exchanging soft kisses without speaking. You study his face again, similar to how you did just several hours before, when he was slumped against your door, drunk. You thought he was handsome then, even more so now. “How’s your hangover?” you ask, breaking the silence. 
He smiles, nuzzling his nose to yours. “Much better.”
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ez0dex · 6 days
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father and son
yapping underneath
i'm not good w/ words but you guys have to understand my vision here: connor, basically a dog to the police. wants to carry out his mission no matter what, but his own emotions poke holes into his will and he starts doubting what he was programmed to do. i feel like yoshida's starting on an arc like that. in part one he wasn't really told much and he wasn't curious enough to dig. no additional details, just paid to do his job. but in part 2 he's emotionally invested in a way. he's developed (or tried to develop) relationships with both the war fiend AND chainsaw man. so now guilt follows whenever he carries out his job's demands—an emotion he isn't used to feeling when doing his job.
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digitaldolll · 6 months
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FREEK N’ YOU + YOUR FAVORITE
SYNOPSIS// hot business man x needy housewife!
CW// nothing really.
a/n: my old work being revamped 🤭
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He was a man of strictly business, nothing more and nothing less but to you… he was your husband, and you were willing to do anything to please him even if that meant going the extra mile.
“Baby, are you listening?” The man stood over you as your eyes stared at the new suit that you bought him for his birthday. His hand caressed your cheek. The smell of your favorite cologne that he had on snapped you out of your daydream.
Looking up, you see him loosening his tie “Sorry love— I was lost in my thoughts”. Those thoughts were rushing through your mind. Letting that man ruin you in that suit, the thought of him choking you with the tie, and his voice! All that made your body feel hot. “What was it about?” his confused look made you a bit frustrated “Well you know”, “I don’t though, so why don’t you tell me?”
He leaned down closer as his hands touched your body “Don’t be shy I won’t bite… not yet” he was doing things to you, things that no other man could do.. “well- I want you to ruin me… please” your tone was low while your eyes looked away from his face, “ah, no look at me and say it louder.”
So demanding… so demanding your fingers wrapped around his belt “I said I want you to ruin me.” “Ruin you?, so it’s okay if I do this?” he slid his right hand down your body while his fingers toyed with your clit, “or maybe here?” and his other hand was now lightly fondling your breast. When you opened your mouth to say “yes” nothing came out except for small little whimpers, “Shhh just lay down and let me take care of you”.
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yuutaguro · 2 months
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🌅
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shiganshinaslut · 6 months
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18+||MINORS DNI
Thinkin about Kishibe fucking you for the first time,,,something about sleazy older men taking your virginity is just fndhgsgdhh,,,,,
“Fuck...you’re taking it so well for a virgin...” he rasps out as he slowly fucks into you, savoring the way you feel around his cock. It’s so sloppy, the way everything is so wet and your juices are coating his cock, practically dripping to his balls, but he doesn’t care. It’s so messy and it turns him on even more, not to mention how cute and embarrassed you are, whining and covering your face, unable to handle someone like him rearranging your guts like that.
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kuzoowl · 1 year
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Art trade I did with @tobytoon !!! it was very fun to do this and plan it out with them! :D <3 their art is amazing so go and check out the other part of this art trade!
My prompt was Uncle Kishibe and Nayuta!
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chrollc · 1 year
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MANSLAUGHTER IT IS.
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heart4dinner · 4 days
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KOBENI APPRECIATION (drew this a while ago)
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mncxbe · 2 months
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𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭...
ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑𝒄𝒘: age gap relationship, old men fantasizing about their younger colleagues, itty bitty smut, dilfs
Men who are reluctant to ask you out because they don't wanna come across as creeps. They know how unusual it is for a man their age to be interested in a younger woman, but they just can't help it. You're so pretty, cheerful and kind, their little ray of sunshine.
Men who know you're at their beck and call and always make the most of it– be it for asking you to bring them a coffee or simply helping them write a report. Anything just to hear you say "yes sir" in that sweet voice of yours.
Men who can't wait for your birthday so they can finally spoil you rotten with gifts, claiming that it's only natural for them to give you something since you're working so hard and doing such a good job. A little token of gratitude. They love watching you unpack your gift, feigning surprise when you tell them it was exactly the thing you wanted. They hit you with a "Oh really now? That's just wonderful. I'm glad to hear you like it" as if they haven't observed you carefully over the past few months and know everything you like and dislike.
Men who feel guilty when their pants tighten as they watch you bend over to pick something up from the floor. They can only imagine how wonderful you'd look bent over their desk with your panties moved to the side– your pretty cunt sucking them in so snuggly.
Men who think of you a bit too much when they're alone, who do their best not to touch themselves out of respect for you but still end up failing miserably. After a hard day at work the only thing that relaxes them is dirty thoughts of you. They always play it cool the next day at work, as if they haven't moaned your name as they came in their fists last night. and the night before that. and the night before that.
Men who eventually notice that you're also interested in them and feel like they're on cloud nine. All their dreams come true when you start giving them little hints– a lingering touch here, an invitation to a bar after work there– but they don't want to rush things. Nah, they take things slow and make sure you're aware of how much you mean to them before even dreaming of laying a finger on you.
Men who are the happiest they've been in years when, after a few weeks of taking you out on dates and treating you to dinner, finally spend the night with you. They make it all about you, really. For once, they set aside their own selfish desires and focus on giving you pleasure like you've never felt before, making use of the many years of experience they have.
Men who love it when you cum for them– it really gets them going. It's soul soothing: watching you melt into the mattress and babble out some sweet nonsense about how good they make you feel. They're so gentle and caring in bed because you're just too precious, but they will gladly spice things up if you want it. Trying out new positions? sure. Toys? on the table. Anything for their pretty darling as long as you keep calling them sir when they're deep inside you.
Men who're already looking for engagement rings less than a year into the relationship. You've got something good going on, so why not? It's not like they're getting any younger. They're more than willing to spend the rest of their life with you, if you want so too, and they aren't going to waste any time to put a ring on your finger.
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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐞, 𝐅𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢, 𝐇𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐮, 𝐅𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐳𝐚𝐰𝐚, 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐚, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢 (𝐣𝐤 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞)
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saintkaylaa · 16 days
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would you still love me if i was a worm?…
(ft. aki, kishibe, angel, & yoshida)
note: good ole classic to start with the csm smaus! pls also note that yoshida might change bc i’m not finished with the manga😭 if you don’t have something nice to say then say nothing at all!
warnings: none, fluff, gn!reader
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— aki
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— kishibe
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— angel
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— yoshida
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