defunct

The energy surging through the Nishikiyama Family Office in the last few days had been nothing short of pandemonium. Nevertheless, Shindo managed. After all, it was his own fault that he had been stretched so thin. As Patriarch Nishikiyama’s right hand man, his work couldn’t fall to the wayside, no matter how chaotic his own personal schedule became– not unless he wanted to rouse suspicion.

He’d done well up to this point, but honestly, he was relieved that the day had come. He hated hiding shit from him. With each passing day, he grew anxious that the patriarch would smell something fishy and lash out before even allowing him an opportunity to explain himself. 

The boss had become more volatile by the day and Shindo couldn’t always predict what might set the man off. Respect was what drove him to swear up but fear… Fear was what kept him honest– what kept him in line.

Even so, he rationalized as he arranged Patriarch Nishikiyama’s agenda for the day that a white lie or two wouldn’t offend much, so long as he made it all worth it in the end. 

Shindo knew that if the boss had no pressing matters to tend to outside of the office, he would remain behind that mahogany desk brooding for hours and unfortunately, he needed him out of the way until evening.

If he didn’t play his cards right, there would be no luring the boss to a secondary location– not unless that secondary location was his home and of course, Shindo knew better than showing up at the boss’ house unannounced.

He scheduled two of Patriarch Nishikiyama’s more important, lengthy off-site meetings for late morning and mid-afternoon, then “dinner” that evening. The choice words the boss had for him as he rattled off the agenda was… colorful, to say the least but, ducking his head in apology, he told himself that this was the one instance with his boss where it was easier to ask forgiveness than to ask for permission. 

After having big meetings like that back to back, he knew full well that his boss would want to leave the evening open and spend the rest of it at home, tending to the migraine he would inevitably get from listening to “idiots blabbing nonstops” for hours. However, after the casual mention of a particular name, the boss quickly changed his tune.

It was what Shindo had intended. He didn’t know much of the men's history but he had noticed over the years that that one old man was an individual that Patriarch Nishikiyama never spoke against meeting with short notice. In fact, the boss inconvenienced himself numerous times to see to it that he kept his word.

The dinner plans were mostly a fabrication, though. He hoped that little detail would be more than enough to save his head from being lobbed off.

Shindo flipped through the stack of pages on his desk, busy work left for him by the big man himself. He worked tirelessly since dawn to get through it all. He needed to save himself enough time in the afternoon to ensure the real plans went off without a fucking hitch. Quite literally, he couldn’t afford for tonight to fail. He spared no expense in making sure of that. 

There were flies coming out of his wallet at this point.

He pressed his hanko onto the final page, slapped the folder shut, slid it across the thick glass desk top then pushed up the sleeve of his coat to check the Rolex strapped around his wrist. 

Good timing, he thought.

So long as things moved according to schedule, the boss should have been entering his mid-day meeting right about now. That bought him more than enough time to head to a meeting of his own and work out any unexpected kinks, if necessary. 

Shindo was experiencing a bout of anxiety he only ever got when he was under immense pressure– pressure to impress Patriarch Nishikiyama, that is. He rolled away the tension building in his shoulders and neck as the rhythmic clack of his italian shoes echoed down the dim, quiet corridor. He trusted that the feeling would pass once he was certain that everything was in its intended place but there were so many moving parts and he couldn’t have his hands on all of them. 

It was tough surrendering control to the others, but he had no other choice. He had to believe that the others would pull their weight and he had to breathe. If he didn't stay on his game, he could easily slip and miss catching a mistake that would cost him everything.

The silence of his beeper the past few hours should have been reassuring, but it wasn’t. It distressed him. If there was one thing he knew about this world, it was that silence wasn’t always golden– not with the band of fools he was forced to rely on.

When Shindo pushed the dark tinted door open, he released the deep breath he had no clue he had even been holding. His dark eyes bounced across the large banquet hall, dressed in warm reds, golds, creamy tans and black. There were bouquets of balloons with golden ribbon hanging from the high ceiling as well as a garland framing the buffet table. Streamers swirled around thick, pale marble pillars. A long, narrow area rug spilled wine red from the entrance, below the welcome arch until it cut between the two lengthy rectangular dining tables set for 12 each. Square and circular tables set for four and six, filled most of the remaining space. 

There was a small stage ahead of the dining area that boasted a dark backdrop with grand flower bouquets matching the color scheme and a single microphone standing front and center. Each dark-clothed table held one to three floating candle centerpieces with a thin, golden artificial plant inside. There was a table set aside for gifts next to the bar which had yet to be occupied by the evening’s bartender and another set aside for a 10 tiered cake. 

Near the wall, not far from the stage was a cozy booth and table that had the widest view of the room. It was decorated much like the rest but preset with an unopened bottle of the boss’ favorite whiskey and a stack of glasses.

From where he stood, he could see a shiny, black ponytail swishing in the merlot colored booth. His lips curved as he took slow strides toward the owner of it.

“Looking good in here, Shizuka-chan.” he said, his deep voice cutting through the silence and startling the woman enough to cause her to drop her lighter. He held up his hands, half apologetic.

“Ah, Shindo-san…” she sighed, grabbing the lighter and flicking it above a tea light in a glass votive. “You’re early.”

“I got started as soon as I could…How’s it going?” he asked, shoving his hands deep into his gray pant pockets, craning his neck to make a show of admiring the room. “You and the girls did good. Helluva lot better than me and mine would’ve done. Guess I really did need a ladies’ touch to pull this shit off.” 

The woman scooted out of the seat, remaining a distance from him. Her thin red lips pursed as she gave the table a final lookover. 

“Yes, well. Thanks to you, I was able to hire a more than capable team.” 

“No kidding.” he nodded. 

Shizuka was the manager of his event center. Shindo hired her half a year ago, after purchasing the building and getting it cleaned up. The woman was the face of the business, but she merely acted as a liaison between him and the customers interested in renting the place out. She was meant to help hide his stench. It was better that civilians interact with a friendly face instead of himself and risk unwanted attention because the common folk associated the place with yakuza. 

He learned that from the boss.

He did wonder if hosting an event– the first real event– for the patriarch was risky for future business but it was the least he could do to thank the boss for everything. After all, it was for the man’s birthday!

He couldn’t think of a better grand opening than that.

“Where’s the rest of the folks?” 

“I sent them on break,” she said, checking her wristwatch then staring back up at him with her beady eyes. “Shall we go over the checklist to ensure that everything is as you requested?”

“Why not?” he shrugged with an air of nonchalance despite finding a bit of relief upon hearing those words.

“Very well. I’ll go and get my checklist from the back office.” she said, clomping away in her shiny black mary janes. 

Shindo watched her wide figure slowly disappear across the room. Just as he was about to settle himself into the booth, the door he watched her enter burst open. He quickly returned to his feet and he could feel the glare wrinkling his face.

“The hell–?!”

“Thank god you’re here, Cap!” one of his juniors rushed toward him, “Cap, I need your backup on this!”

The younger man spoke in a rushed cadence, sounding almost out of breath. In his hands were a few crumpled papers. Another man stomped in behind him, pushing his sunglasses to his forehead to look the captain in the eye.

“Captain’s gonna side with me on this, I keep tellin’ you.” the other said, his voice raspy and laced with annoyance.

Shindo sucked in a sharp breath as he stared down at them. He didn’t know what the issue was but he still felt vindicated when he noted the winded one’s distraught face. It had been far too quiet. He had known something would come up.

“What?” he asked, annoyance slicing through the word on exhale.

“I keep tellin’ this idiot that we need more chicks on the guest list.” the one using sunglasses for a headband said. “The boss’s gonna think he showed up at a damn sausagefest. We need some girls. I know a few hostesses that–”

Shindo snatched the wrinkled list and his eyes skimmed column after column of names. Most of the attendees were male, yes, but they were some of the family whose company he knew the boss didn’t mind– ones that mostly knew how to behave in a public setting and wouldn’t set the man off when he was intending to help him wind down. There were a handful of female attendees on the list as well. Women hand picked based on what they meant to the boss. These were women he knew that while the man might not say it, he would actually be delighted to see, especially the one who had agreed to perform tonight. 

“No, no hostesses.” Shindo said definitively.

While he would personally prefer to see a gaggle of good looking ladies show up to tonight’s soiree in spades, he knew that the boss would quickly grow annoyed when a band of women with dollar signs for eyes came in, lying through their teeth and pressing up against him– there'd be no one around to impress tonight. There was no need. 

He wanted to stick with the plan Shizuka presented, one she referred to as a large, but intimate gathering. That seemed to suit the boss’ preferences and temperament these days rather than him being shoved into a room full of half strangers intending to schmooze. It was probably best to reserve that sort of thing for obligatory events the boss needed to attend for work, rather than one for leisure.

“But, Captain Sh–”

“I said no fucking extra girls, got it?” he spat, then shoved the papers back into the other man’s hands. 

“Thanks, Cap.”

“Yes, sir…”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

“Alright,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “Go help in the back. I want the cake out before he turns up.”

“Yes, sir.”

Shindo checked his Rolex again then brought his rough hand up to stroke at his stubbly chin, once again sighing. Was he annoyed that the guys took it upon themselves to make an attempt at the job he pays Shizuka for only hours before the party began? 

Yes. 

However, he did find strange relief that that was the extent of his problems. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he headed toward the back to supervise and make sure that he didn't have any larger fires to put out.

When Shindo felt his beeper go off in his pocket, he was looking over the items at the bar for the third time, ensuring it had everything he ordered for tonight. He dug into his coat pocket and checked the message waiting for him. It was the guard that accompanied the boss and chauffeur, letting him know that they would be arriving soon. The next string of digits were meant to warn him that the boss was already aggravated, likely because the chauffeur passed the restaurant he was under the impression he was due at. 

A corner of his lips curled and an amused scoff pushed through his nose. Not long til’ showtime, he thought.

He turned to face the room, much louder than it was when he first arrived a couple hours ago. The majority of the attendees had arrived and broken off into smaller groups throughout the room, chatting and laughing amongst themselves– all awaiting his signal. He pocketed the beeper and headed toward the stage. 

His heart was pounding now.

When he tapped the microphone to ensure it was live, an unpleasant squeal echoed through the room and silenced the guests. 

“Uh,” he said, frowning at the sound of his own voice surrounding him. “The boss’ll be here any minute now. Someone shut these lights off. Everybody get in place and shut the hell up. Let’s not screw this up.”

It didn’t take long for the crowd to disperse and scramble around the room. He carefully stepped off the stage and narrowed his eyes as he checked the crowd for a specific person and once he spotted them, he closed in. The lights lowered as he got closer as if waiting for him specifically. 

Only one light remained, the one cascading down from the high ceiling, above the strategically placed welcome arch.

When the door opened, he could faintly hear the guard's voice apologizing to their boss as he led him through the dim room. Shindo noted the patriarch’s tight, downturned and sour expression as they led him below the arch, his eyes yet to adjust.

Suddenly the lights flipped on and every voice in the facility shouted out “SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Nishikiyama was startled to stone. 

He didn’t intend to stand there for as long as he had. It took him a while to process what he had walked into, even as he scanned the sea of familiar, smiling faces in the room. Everyone was well dressed, even his boys that he typically had to reprimand for being slouches. Even the room had been dressed to impress. For a moment, he didn’t even recognize it as the shabby event hall, he coached Koji through purchasing. 

It wasn’t until he spotted the long banner hanging above the stage that read: “Happy Birthday, Boss!” that he dipped his head and let out a soft chuckle. 

He could recognize that handwriting anywhere.

“You idiots…” 

The muscles in his face relaxed ever so slightly and though a smile didn’t break across his face, it did curl his lips and wrinkled the corners of his eyes. 

“I… appreciate it.” he nodded, and was immediately met with whooping cheers.

He spotted Koji halfway across the room in a suit not dissimilar from his own and heads taller than the man beside him.

“Koji…” 

Taking his cue, he emerged from the crowd cautiously leading a man many years his senior across the room. A rare gentleness softened the boss’ features as he watched Koji lead the elderly man to the arch, one hand around his wrist and the other resting light against his shoulder. 

In truth, once his eyes locked onto the man’s face, everything else practically gained invisibility. Finally, he allowed himself to smile, a real genuine smile, when the old man parted his lips to speak and though it took him a while to get the words out, Nishikiyama predicted what was coming.

“Well… happy birthday, ya lil’ shit!” the old man smiled a toothless grin back at him.

“Old man Uehara, what the hell are you doing here?” he asked through a hearty laugh and had he not been so locked into this moment, he might have noticed the silence that swept across the room in response to that rare sound.

“The hell am I doin’ here? Ya think I’d suddenly forget your birthday? My mind ain’t gone yet–” he scolded but there was an affection behind his rough tone that matched the affection in Nishikiyama’s. “It takes one of these chuckleheads ta show up at my door just so I can celebrate with ya?”

He chuckled, lowering his head in a bow to the elder. “Sorry...” and he meant it.

“Forget about it. Lemme give ya–” Uehara turned to look over his shoulder, his hand gently shaking from tremors. “Where’s that boy with the damn box?”

Nishikiyama’s eyes flicked across the faces of those still watching on, silently trying to figure out what Uehara was talking about. Someone stepped forward with a small, rectangular, diligently wrapped box and placed it into the old man’s unsteady hands. 

It pained Nishikiyama to see the man trembling before him. He knew that it was largely the result of the stroke the old man suffered half a year ago but it still sent a pang of guilt surging through his chest.

“Here,” Uehara said, extending the box with both hands and Nishikiyama recognized it immediately. “My wife’s recipe… It’s not nearly as good as her’s were but–”

He placed his hands on each of Uehara's, temporarily steadying them. The old man said the same line about his homemade confections for as long as Nishikiyama had been receiving them– a good 15 years now. He’d never even had his wife’s confections but if they were even better than what the old man was capable of, he’d wager it was a good thing he didn’t or he might have been toothless too.

“I’m grateful, Uehara-san…” he nodded, holding his gaze. “I’m sorry that I made you travel such a long way, but thank you for bringing them to me.” 

“'The hell is this formal shit? And maybe if ya’d come by on your birthday like I tell ya then I wouldn’t have to!”

He chuckled, “Yeah, yeah…”

Uehara allowed him to take the box from him, then tapped his cool, shaky hand against Nishikiyama’s cheek, who leaned down to keep him from straining.

“And get some damn rest sometime, kid. Ya look like ya ain’t had a decent night’s sleep in years!”

“So you always say.” He chuckled again, “I’ll try my best, old man.”

When he removed his hand from his cheek, Nishikiyama straightened his posture and his expression hardened when he met Koji’s eye. He didn’t have to say a word. He relied on Koji the way he did because he knew how to anticipate his needs without much direction. 

Koji bowed his head, “I’ll see to it that Uehara-san arrives home safely, boss. Don’t sweat it!”

“The hell ya will!” the old man snapped, “I ain’t leavin’ til his punk has a drink with me. He owes me that damn much.” 

“Some things never change, do they, old man?” Nishikiyama sighed, shaking his head.

“Too late for me to do any changin’. I’ll be set in my ways til I die.”

“Good thing I’m used to dealing with your big mouth or otherwise I’d have a long life ahead of me, huh?”

“Ditto!”

“Oh, then, uh..” Koji stretched his palm outward. “Let me show you both to your table, boss.”

“Sure.” he said, now accepting the responsibility of escorting the old man through the crowd.

By the time the party cleared out, Nishikiyama was downright exhausted. He couldn’t remember the last time he tossed back a few and let loose, well… As loose as one could be in a room full of people. Parties and nightlife just weren’t for him anymore. The fatigue that always set in afterward was bone deep. 

Tonight, though? He didn’t regret it.

Since losing the trio: Yuko, Yumi and Kiryu and cutting back on stopping by Uehara’s he couldn’t remember the last time he celebrated his birthday properly. It wasn’t for lack of others trying. He’s trashed all of Reina’s invites, he’s chewed out Koji more times than he could count just for asking and he screened all of his calls from the sixth to the eleventh for a couple of years. He didn’t even remember the last time he told someone his birthday. After a while, he had ignored it enough times that it could pass him by and he wouldn’t even notice.

Hell, it wasn’t until that initial fright right below the welcome arch that it even crossed his mind today!

Nishikiyama looked up from the sprawl of empty bottles and glasses to spot a coatless Koji with his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, sweeping up the aftermath all on his own and as if he could feel eyes on him, he immediately turned to meet his gaze and silently asked in that dependable way that he did: You okay, boss?

Then, knowing that he’d been summoned, he walked in his direction, broom and dustpan still in tow.

He scooted further toward the corner of the booth to allow the younger man to take the seat at the far end, “Sit.” 

Without a word, he quickly obeyed. Apart from the low pop music in the background, the two sat in a lengthy silence, but it didn’t alarm Koji, not like when he could sense a scolding incoming. Folding his arms onto the table, he rested his head back against the banquette allowing himself to fully relax for the first time in what felt like weeks until he heard the boss' voice.

“Hard to believe that you set all this up… It’s not your style at all," he joked, but the words came out harsher than he intended.

“It’s not. But it is yours, boss.” he said.

“Koji…”

“Sir?”

Nishikiyama’s eyes slowly trailed from counting the tables that were now half empty to finally settling on him. “I never told you my birthday...”

Koji stiffened. A pinkish tint rushed across his face as he chuckled, rubbing at the fuzz at the back of his head. “Yeeaah, I, uh…” he trailed off. 

“You, what?” he asked, folding his arms on the table similarly to how the captain had been just a moment before.

“I read it on the paperwork you filled out… When you helped with the purchasing agreement.”

Realization widened his eyes.

All evening he had juggled ideas in his head about how he found out. He wondered if he had been so exhausted lately that he couldn’t recall revealing the "secret" to finally shut him up. Though, he knew deep down that had that been the cause, he might not have said the actual date. Then, he considered if maybe he had left his I.D lying around somewhere or if the boys had gotten so desperate for an answer that they started asking around. Not once did he think that maybe, just maybe he had gotten sloppy and passed off paperwork with his birthday written on it.

He had to hand it to the kid. Koji was nothing if not resilient with an amazing eye for detail. He wouldn’t have been named captain without it.

He dropped his gaze to his clasped hands and squeezed just enough to define his veins. Another lengthy silence lingered between them…

Once again, it was Nishikiyama who broke the silence. 

“Thirsty?” he asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he reached for one of the clean glasses, placed it in front of Koji and then poured a double shot into it.

When the young man reached to return the favor, he raised his palm in a halting gesture. Then, poured his own drink. Lifting the glass, he watched as the brown liquor swished and swayed as he parted his lips to speak before quickly pressing them back together and gesturing his glass toward Koji’s. 

Clink…

The captain watched for him to take the first sip and when it didn’t come, his eyes bore into his. There was a small phrase on the top of Nishikiyama’s tongue, but he couldn’t spit it out. Instead, he raised his glass with a nod then finally took a sip. 

Still, Koji didn’t drink and a solemn expression took hold of his features. “Boss,” he began. “Now that I know your birthday, I’ll be sure to never forget... You’ve never forgotten mine.”

He couldn’t ignore the dull tug in his chest or the twitch in his brow upon hearing those words– seeing that expression. 

Sure, he did acknowledge his birthday every year, but Koji was just a punk kid the last time he had gone all out for him. Just last year, he’d given Koji no more than an old watch of his that he always seemed to obsess over anytime he saw it on him. Well, he had to give him something, right? He was the closest thing to “family” that the kid had left, really. 

“Happy birthday, boss.” he said, bowing his head and Nishikiyama didn’t miss the reverence in his doing so. When he finally raised his head, he flashed him a goofy smile then took a large gulp of his whiskey. 

“Woo, shit!” he coughed, pounding at his chest, “Shit, that’s strong! How do you drink this stuff?!”

Without thinking, he tossed his head back in laughter at the younger man’s dramatics. 

“That’s–HACK– MESSED UP, BOSS!” he continued to choke, “I’m really dyin’ ove— Here!”

“That’s because you’re supposed to sip it, dumbass!” he cackled. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he's laughed as hard and as much as he's done tonight or how long it had been since he shared a true belly laugh with someone else, but once it began he could hardly stop it. Perhaps it was the alcohol? 

Despite that and the inevitable hangover that would surely follow, he knew that he’d think back to this night for all the birthdays to follow. 

When you and Masato finally became intimate, it was so spectacular that you couldn’t have imagined in a million years that the two of you could fall into such a rut. He was always so passionate, so excitable, that when the routine was exactly the same, it still felt fresh. However, lately, things have become more than a little stale. 

You loved how gentle he was with you, how he always touched you like you were the most precious thing on Earth, how he looked at you as if he’s never met a being more wonderful than you in this lifetime.

No one ever made you feel so loved and appreciated before… but, and of course, there was a “but”....

Sex has begun to feel a little monotonous– not yet clinical or robotic, but the sense of novelty was long gone. Your attraction to him was far from dead and the feeling was indeed mutual but once the element of surprise disappeared, it began to feel as if something were missing. You just couldn’t quite put your finger on what that something was.

So much so, that you lost the excitement to engage whenever he made advances, and of course it didn’t go unnoticed. He could never continue once he sensed that you had begun to drift away from him. It was hard, telling him that you hadn’t exactly felt “satisfied” in a while. 

You had been having orgasms, sure, but they were brought about with meticulous intention. You couldn’t recall the last time they came naturally, with very little to no coaxing. 

He was all too keen to open the floor for suggestions. He must have felt exactly the same but couldn’t bring himself to say the words to you out of fear of hurting your feelings. 

Since then, you've tried it all– bringing toys into the bedroom, new positions, roleplay, watching porn together, sexy board games, so-called ‘aphrodisiacs’ and while it helped a little, you weren’t quite feeling the spark you were hoping for! There was one other thing left to try but you learned at the very start of your relationship with Masato that it was a firm no-go. 

You’ve read so much raunchy erotica recently that even when you were busy at work, you found yourself fantasizing about various scenes where he treated you less like a fragile work of art and more like a worthless hole made for his pleasure alone. You tried your best to present the idea to him in a way that didn’t sound too extreme for his palate– being a little rough in the bedroom wasn’t a unique ask by any means but aside from so light ass spanking and him ever so slightly ghosting his massive hand above your neck, he simply wouldn’t go for it. 

He explained to you from the start why the idea of treating you as if you were anything less than delicate treasure made him uncomfortable. It made perfect sense and the idea of pressuring him into something he was so staunchly against made you feel grimy. So, you dropped it immediately albeit slightly disappointed.

Tonight though, he surprised you. 

When you entered the bedroom and saw the satin tie and various other toys laying out, your heart nearly leapt out of your chest. However, when he explained his idea, you couldn’t help but find yourself a bit…. Taken aback. 

“If you wanna play rough, we’ll play rough but I won’t be the one in charge.” he said, passing the tie over to you. “You will.”

You blinked quietly until he led you in by the waist, “Think you can boss me around?”

Admittedly, the idea brought fire to your cheeks, but that didn’t mean that you were opposed. After answering with an affirmative, you kissed him with fervor. 

Masato broke the kiss and whispered, “I want you to do to me what you’ve been imagining me doing to you. I can handle it.”

He held your hesitant gaze for a moment and when you didn’t make a move, he took your hand and guided it to his thick neck. Then, he urged for you to press your fingers down as firmly as they could. You swallowed down a comically loud gulp before squeezing gently at the sides, crashing your lips into his and he moaned into your mouth. The sound coupled with his willingness to surrender to you brought a flutter to your belly. 

Shoving your tongue into his mouth, you straddled him, occasionally biting his bottom lip, earning more moans and hisses from him. Beneath you, you found him ridiculously hard in his boxer briefs– Perhaps even harder than usual, twitching in a silent plea for freedom but you had a different idea in mind. 

You broke the kiss and ordered him to close his eyes. His brows raised at your quick adjustment to your new role, but it wasn’t long before he allowed his sparse lashes to flutter down, all too happy to submit to you. 

“Wrists in your lap.” 

Naturally, the man obeyed and you did your best to tie them as tightly as possible. He took this opportunity to press loving kisses against your neck and shoulder which were presented so prettily before him. You weren’t even sure what came over you until you heard the crisp smack crack across the room and you were left staring at one another both your faces varying in mild to moderate stages of shock at what you had done. 

Masato’s expression darkened, nostrils flaring as he looked at you through new eyes. It filled you with a fear unlike anything you had ever known before. It was the twitch in his thick cock that beckoned the tenseness in your shoulders to release. 

“What? Am I not allowed to kiss you then, _____?” he asked, eyes darting between your eyes and lips like it was all he could do not to lunge at you and take them against his own. 

“Y-You don’t get to do anything unless I say so.” 

His smirk returned, “Then, you’re gonna have to try a lot harder than that to punish me… I can take it.”

Your palm still stung from the slap! How was he insinuating that you didn’t do it hard enough? Frustrated, you gripped at his neck and gave him a firm squeeze eliciting a gravelly growl from him before he whispered, encouraging you to use both hands for added effect and when you did, he moaned, grinding into you as his fingers grazed at your belly– clearly so desperate for more friction than you sitting stationary in his lap could offer. 

You smacked him again. 

“Did I tell you to fucking move?”

“That’s the spirit, amorzinno.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, even when he was meant to be submissive, he was still acting as if he were the one in control. You shoved him back onto the bed, urging him to raise his joined wrists above his head and then you slid your way down between his legs. His cock jerked with excitement and while you thought that it might’ve been fun to make him wait as long as possible, you felt a wetness pooling between your legs that you couldn’t possibly ignore. 

Freeing him, you pressed your thumb against the head of his dripping cock and rolled it over it in a circular motion. When he started to grind his hips in time with your thumb, you smacked hard at his thigh and ordered him to remain still. 

“Fuck, s-sorry!” he panted. 

You leaned into him, stroking agonizingly slow from base to tip. You could hear him begin to issue an order but he thought better of it and groaned out of impatience instead. As a reward, you spit at his cock, droplets of the filth making their way onto his chest and thigh and he twitched into your hand so hard that you were almost certain he’d nearly come from just that. 

How was he so receptive to this? And why the hell did you enjoy this as much as you did when it was originally you that wanted to be treated like this?

A harmonic moan lifted from his chest when you dragged your tongue against his clenching balls then made its way along his length until you could wrap your lips around the engorged head. For every sound he made, you responded with a teasing sound of your own, vibrations surfing along his length as your mouth glided as far as it could along his length. 

His toes crackled from how hard he’d begun to clench them. 

It must have been killing him, not being able to touch you as you sucked him off or being able to praise you for how much of him you could take. You had to admit that part of you was missing his sweet nothings and the loving way he would caress your cheeks and remind you to only take in what you could manage. 

When your lips reached the base, you held him there in your throat and his body began to tremble. He repeated your name as if he was offering a prayer to the heavens. His hips involuntarily bucked, choking you in the process and his abdomen twitched. 

“Oh fuck, amor–” he managed through a whine. “Please, I’m so clo–”

The moment you heard his pitiful plea, you removed your mouth with a loud groan of frustration. 

“I never said you could cum, Masa.” you spat, sliding your panties down your legs before mounting him once again. This time, you made a point of gliding your wet slit along his length. Up and down, down and up and though you only meant to tease him, the sensation of his throbbing hardness against your clit had you singing a similar tune. 

You positioned the head just against your slit but instead of sliding down, you remained there, leaning down to capture his lips in a sloppy kiss. The man could only handle so much teasing before he had to buck his hips to claim you in a singular thrust. You broke the kiss to smack his cheek, now slightly tinged with a reddish hue.

“Sorry, ____. Couldn’t help it. Mm, y’feltsogood!” he managed through a slur. “C’mon, fuck me! Please, I need it.” 

His eyes rolled at the feeling of your walls fluttering around him. He would talk to you when you had sex but it wasn’t often that you’d get to see him a babbling mess like this. It turned you on beyond belief. What two were doing now was nothing compared to true rough sex, but perhaps it was novelty that had your bodies responding like this?

You wrapped your hands around his neck, securing your feet beneath his knees and pulled him back upright. Knowing that he was a little too heavy to maneuver, he raised into you. 

With him so close to your face again, you could see up close the state that he was in. His right cheek tinged with rouge, drool glistened at the corners of his lips, his eyes narrowed with a pathetic need that was unlike anything you’d ever seen on him before.

You began to roll your hips into him, doing your best to mimic his signature method. His thin brows twitched as he alternated between allowing his head to loll back and trying to catch your eye, silently begging permission to kiss you as he whispered incoherence in a different tongue. 

After several minutes of this, you found yourself wrapping your arms around his neck, sobbing against his broad shoulder as you helped yourself to his thick member over and over again, trying your best to delay the orgasm that waited around the corner for you. You sank your teeth into his olive skin and the wave of pleasure washed over you as your orgasm announced itself in a gush. 

You wanted so desperately to keep riding the wave but your high was so unbelievably intense that your trembling thighs couldn’t manage a second more of this. Suddenly, you felt warm, massive hands at your ass, gripping and aiding your glide and once more, you felt yourself awash in a pleasure even more intense than the first. 

Lit with bliss, you rested in his arms, loose-limbed and eyes so heavy you felt like you could’ve passed out right then and there. 

“Nuh-uh, amorzinho.” he startled you. “We’re not done here. It’s my turn.”

Before you could even register what was happening, Masato had you on your back, a hand clenching your cheeks as he hovered over you, forcing you to meet his dark gaze before crashing his lips into yours. 

He pounded into you at an unrelenting rhythm. Predator-like growls leaked from his mouth and into yours as the sound of applause filled the room, selfish thrusts seeking to do nothing but find his own release. You had broken him, in his fervor he seemed to have forgotten the rules he’d set himself but you were thrilled to remind him. You wrapped your hands around his throat again and when his hips bucked, Masato filled you with a loud roar that would’ve alerted the neighbors if you had any. 

Spent, he whispered an ‘I love you’ before falling on top of you in a shudder. 

It took a moment to compose himself but once he did, he managed to roll onto your side and effortlessly flipped you back on top of him, holding you close against his sweaty chest. His heart raced, you could see it thrumming the veins in his neck. 

MASATO AIZAWA

Nothing made Masato happier than making you happy! So, when you made the impromptu decision to drag him into the arcade on your date, he dug through his wallet to make change and vowed to win you as many plushies as your heart desired, no matter how long it took him. And he meant it! However, he’d never been known for his patience and he had run through more cash than anticipated when he made that promise to you. After feeding the crane game his last crumbled note, he gripped the joystick with more force than was probably necessary and you swore that you could hear the plastic crackling in his grip. Between the sweat beading along his hairline, the now visible vein along his temple and the pit stains, you thought it best to assure him that you didn’t really need the plushie that you joked favored him after all, but Masato could no longer hear you. This had become personal and you were forced to use dirty tricks to reel him in before he punched a hole through the glass to manually get you what you wanted.

AKIRA NISHIKIYAMA

While he personally believed that crane games were nothing more than a scheme to farm easy money from well meaning customers, he didn’t mind giving it a shot since you asked so sweetly! He predicted that the two of you would leave the arcade empty-handed and even offered to take you to that tourist trap in the city to buy you as many plushies as your heart desired to make up for it, but after the first try, Akira was pleasantly surprised. He not only got you the cute doll you requested, but he even lucked out and grabbed two at a time. Perhaps it was the result of hearing you shriek with delight and clinging on to him as your new plush friends fell into the prize box or maybe it was the dopamine that came from winning– either way, he’d forgotten all about that secret reservation he’d made for the two of you… Oh well?

KAZUMA KIRYU

MASATO AIZAWA

As a well endowed guy, his biggest concern is always his partner’s comfort– first and foremost. He prefers to let them decide the position, or at the very least, dictate the pace. He listens and adapts accordingly. But… Prone positions will forever be the death of him. Logic abandons him and he (and his strokes) are guided by raw instinct. If ever he chooses to fuck his partner in a prone position, they should know that it will be the last positional shift of the session because he will be moaning and groaning and pounding into them until he’s ready to come– which may not take very long. If he gets to cum inside when he’s got them like this, they’re going to hear the phrase, ‘I love you’ so many times it will cease to sound like actual words.

AKIRA NISHIKIYAMA (0)

When it comes to penetrative sex, he’s pretty adaptable and is happy and willing to do whatever it is that his partner likes. However, if he was forced to decide, he would probably opt for anything that puts his partner on top! He likes being able to relinquish all control to them and let them use him to their heart's content. Plus, there’s the added benefit of getting to watch their hole greedily swallow his dick over and over and over again until he gets bored of it (which he won’t) and then he can shift his attention to their body or the faces they make. When they tire themselves out, he lures them forward, then wraps his arms around them and picks up where they left off. But… Of course, this is King Munch Akira Nishikiyama that we’re talking about and it’s going to be hell getting him to forgo at least a few minutes of tasting his partner. Truthfully speaking, he could cum untouched. Standing, sitting, kneeling– doesn’t matter to him! As long as he gets to demonstrate his talent, he’s a happy camper.

AKIRA NISHIKIYAMA (K)

If he were to rattle off his favorite positions, almost all of them offer some form of g-spot stimulation because likes to make gooood use of that curve and of those, most of them require taking his s/o from behind. The position he ultimately chooses is heavily dependent on the mood he’s in at the time. The flatiron position is good for when he wants to be as close to them as he can get– kissing their lips, kissing their back, talking dirty, he gets it all! He could use the flatiron position when he’s in one of his moods and wanting to be a little rougher, but why should he when he could shove their head into the sheets and fuck them with their ass up? It’s perfect for hair pulling, perfect for ass smacking. Really, what’s not to love?

KAZUMA KIRYU

He’s a fan of tried and true classics with an extra umph! So, yes, missionary BUT have you ever heard of the CAT method? When he gets to be intimate with a partner, he likes to slow things down and permit himself (and his partner) to just enjoy the feel of one another. CAT helps him get in niiiice and deep while also stimulating them, using a steady rhythm. It’s sexy! It’s intimate! It can be perfect for placing his lips riiight against their ear to whisper the dirty things that only his horniest state of mind can conjure up and it prevents the embarrassment of having to say it while maintaining eye contact! So many wins!

GORO MAJIMA

Truthfully, he’s not very picky. He goes with the flow and doesn’t care about sticking to any one position more than others. However, would he really be The Mad Dog if he didn’t enjoy a little doggy? With his partner laying on their belly, one leg hiked over just so and him straddling their straight leg as he fucks them from behind, saying he enjoys Lazy Dog would be the understatement of the century. He likes what the position provides him visually. After all, having half the perception ability has made him very, very greedy.

TAIGA SAEJIMA

When it’s up to him, he’s almost always going to go for a position that allows him easy access to his partner's legs. Be it a simple legs up variation of missionary or the eagle position. As far as he’s concerned, there’s not much in the world that gets better than having a sexy pair of legs dangling over his shoulders while getting to take in the even sexier faces his partner is making as he splits them time and time again. With positions like this, he’s able to drive in deep while holding their gaze as he kisses and licks their calves. He… may be a little more likely to make out with their legs than their lips when he’s got them like this, but cut the man some slack. He’s in heaven!

GENERAL

MASATO AIZAWA

LEISURE 

Masato hates shopping. He absolutely hates it. It’s not something that he would ever really do for leisure. If he’s out shopping, chances are it’s because he’s in need of something. With that being the case, each instance is him going to whatever store happens to be on this radar with the intention of going in and getting out. He knows exactly what he’s in there for and he will allocate an allotted amount of time to dedicate to that. He prefers to not go over that time, if he can finish with time to spare it’s like bonus points. He will not shop for clothes unless he has to shop for a special event of some kind. (His White Suit Purple Shirt? Brand new. It was a special occasion, after all.) Otherwise, he will walk around in pairs of underwear long after they’ve started to show signs of wear. Unless his clothes look/feel like they need to be replaced, he simply won't. This is why, when he does shop for clothes, he tries to make sure it’s pretty solid quality so that it lasts.

ERRAND

He’s more patient when shopping for say, groceries. He needs to eat. If he can help it, he’s not skipping a meal. He’s got favorite grocery stores/markets. He will spend the extra money to get the freshest ingredients when he can but he does still keep a budget. He does NOT play about his proteins and produce AND he always shops with a list.

RELATIONSHIPS

LEISURE

Sorry but Masa’s idea of fun quality time does not include shopping. If he’s taking his partner shopping, it’s likely because he would like a second opinion on something he’s in need of. Or, they just so happen to be out and about, remembered he needed something and thought why not? Two birds, one stone. If he’s convinced (dragged out of the house) to accompany his partner while they’re clothes shopping, they should expect him to only be in a good mood for the first 30 minutes to an hour. After that, any request for his input will include a heavy sigh, shrug and some mutterings of whatever his answer may be. If he goes shopping for a gift for his partner, it would mean he genuinely loves/cares about them because he wouldn’t even do it for himself if he didn’t have to.

ERRAND

He’s really helpful if he and his partner are tag teaming household necessities. He makes sure a list is made before even hopping in the car (or whatever transportation is being used). He is happy to grab things off the top shelf when need be. He lifts all the heavy things and puts them in the basket/cart so that his partner doesn’t have to. He’s pushing or carrying the basket/cart and he’s happy to carry all the bags inside when all is said and done. He’s affectionate in general but he won't be able to stop trying to hold hands, touch or smooch his partner while out doing household shopping. Something about the domesticity of it all just makes him feel light and happy. When he’s doing household shopping, he might even be on board with a little extra browsing so long as it doesn’t take too long.

GENERAL

AKIRA NISHIKIYAMA

LEISURE

Akira LOVES shopping. It’s literally one of his most treasured past times. He shops to freshen up his wardrobe regularly– a word stronger than “regularly” is needed here. He will take himself shopping just to lighten up his mood sometimes. He’s really big on retail therapy. He will shop in person and he would shop online. When he was younger, he used to subscribe to a ridiculous amount of catalogs and best believe he was ordering something every time. He does not skimp when it comes to clothing. He doesn’t do budget retail. He turns his nose up at it. He does have small local boutiques that he fancies but he’s mostly a brand snob- you would think there was a cult the way he shows his loyalty. He hardly looks at a price tag and if he does, it’s because he knows something is pricey and wants to remember so that he can boast about it later. Even so, he is very opinionated about the quality of the clothes he buys. Like, sometimes he’ll buy things because X Brand released it and he wants to say that he owns it but he may never actually wear it because he recognizes when the quality is shit. 

ERRAND

When it comes to food, he cannot be trusted to buy groceries. He has a horrible habit of assuming that a higher price tag means that something is better– and it’s not. He hardly cooks anyway. The only thing he’s actually good at shopping for is the produce he likes. Other than that? He’s probably just gonna eat take out, take himself out or make something instant anyway. He doesn’t use lists. He just eyeballs the aisle til he spots a thing he remembers needing. There is a handful of items he swears by regardless of price but that’s likely because he grew up with it or someone else put him on. 

RELATIONSHIPS

LEISURE

His love for shopping doesn’t change just because he’s got a pretty little thing on his arm. If anything, chances are he’s more into it because he gets to not only spoil them but he gets to use them as a doll, his to dress up any way he pleases- they might not be up for it at first but he’s good at convincing. His partner kinda has to be open to dressing well. It’s a really big part of him and he would want a partner that can share that with him. He doesn’t want to be dressed to the nines while his partner ‘looks like a slouch’. He’s really honest too– Picked something unflattering? They’ll know. He may be gentle if they have the temperament that requires him to be but otherwise, he doesn’t really mince words. He takes a bunch of liberties when it comes to shopping for his partner too. He might have to be told to tone it down once or twice in order to get the memo. 

ERRAND

When it comes to groceries/household shopping though? He could NOT be bothered to care. He will join his partner if they need his company but the actual shopping part is on them. If they ask for his opinion on something he’ll just shrug and go “Your call, babe.” His mind is likely preoccupied with something else so he’s not really reliable when it comes to recalling what’s needed for the house. That’s his partner’s job, essentially. There are perks to having him there though! He contributes by lifting, carrying and paying. 

GENERAL

GORO MAJIMA

LEISURE

Goro doesn’t really do a whole lot of shopping. He doesn’t have the time, and when he has the time, he doesn’t have the energy. When he was younger, he had a habit of buying things he liked in bulk so that if he really liked it, he didn’t have to go to the trouble of hunting it down when it was time for a replacement. He doesn’t care about trends when it comes to his own personal style. So there’s not much of a need to update the ol’ wardrobe. 

ERRAND

He has a garbage diet and he pretty much eats the same things regularly. So, if he does wind up grocery shopping, it’s pretty in and out. He may be unpredictable but his internal grocery list really isn’t. He prefers to keep things simple in his fridge if he is planning on cooking. He’s no chef by any means. So, the less complicated the ingredients, the better. There did come a point though, where when he was in need of anything, he’d basically pawn the responsibility off to one of his men. 

RELATIONSHIPS

LEISURE

There are much better things to do with a partner than wasting time shopping. He will shop with his partner if asked but it’s not something he would personally set out to do. There are two exceptions– if there’s an event that both he and his partner are attending (and if he’s not wearing his usual snakeskin/leather getup). He wouldn’t mind shopping together for something like that. Or, it’s a super special occasion, like an important anniversary, he’ll go out on his own to hand pick a gift. Only special occasions, though. If it’s just something as simple as a small token to show his partner he’s thinking of them, yeah, he’d definitely pawn that shit off on one of his men. “Oi, go get my __ somethin’ pretty! An’ make sure it ain’t some tacky ass shit like last time!”

ERRAND

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He’s different depending on the relationship with his partner. If he’s just hooking up with someone, he’ll give them an appreciative kiss and compliment them on the time spent, even help them clean up but unless he’s really into them, they probably shouldn’t expect too much affection from him. If they’re his significant other, he’s the most snuggly monster in the world. He wants to be in their skin. He’s showering them in kisses, praises and whatever other affection he can fit into the time he has before he needs to help clean up. He’s quick to ask if they’re in the mood to eat afterwards- he always works up an appetite and he would like to have that meal together. In either case, if his sexual partner is a smoker, he’s happy to share an after sex cigarette.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

If not his torso, just because of how hard he worked to build his body, definitely his hair because he knows how nice it is. He loves for his partner’s fingers to make their way into his hair during sex. He puts a lot of effort into making sure it looks nice everyday and most would think that he’s really sensitive about it getting messed up but if it’s getting messed up because he’s putting in work– he can handle it. Yank and pull, stroke and twirl, he loves it all.

He’s the guy that if ever asked, “Ass or tits?” He kisses his teeth and answers with “Pussy.” He’s going to adore his partner from top to bottom but that part of them holds a power of him that should be studied. It’s all he can think about and when he does think about it– just think about it, he begins to drool. More on this later!

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He’s unlikely to cum inside unless the risk of pregnancy is as close to 0 as humanly possible- which means, unless he’s wearing a condom, it’s pretty unlikely. Other than that, he doesn’t care where he cums as long as he gets to. Typically, he pulls out and strokes himself onto whatever is right above the hole he’s been fucking- stomach/back but he’s ALWAYS open to requests. It might be worth noting that his diet isn’t the best it could be, he’s been smoking for several years and probably doesn’t drink as much water as he should.. He’s not upset if his partner doesn’t swallow. He gets it but of course he’s always appreciative. And as far as his partner is concerned, his motto is: The Wetter The Better. He LOVES a squirter. Loves it! If he can, he’ll make it happen time and time again until there’s a massive mess left behind proving how good of a job he’s done. Bonus points if his lover didn’t know that they could squirt until they met him.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Wet panties turn him on beyond belief. If his partner spreads their legs, still in their underwear and there’s a wet spot, he’s going to start leaking himself. Again, the wetter the better. If they’re soaked, he may get down on his knees and start begging for a taste. He doesn’t even care if he’s pathetic in the moment. He’ll address his shame with the man in the mirror at a later date.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Not saying that he’s a slut but he’s far from inexperienced. He’s had more than his fair share of partners. He’s been at it for a while now and he’s someone that learns from all of his experiences. While he’s confident in his abilities, he learned a long time ago that everyone is different and what tricks might work on one might not work on the next so he’s got an…extensive repertoire. 

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

There is nothing in this world that can get him off faster than having a lovely sitting on his face. He enjoys 69’ing and all, but he muuuch prefers this- having his partner standing over his face, his arms locked around their thighs, keeping them from running away from him. If he needs stimulation, which he will, he can simply reach down and fist his own cock to his heart's content. With this position over something like 69’ing, he can seek stimulation at his own pace and not have to worry about cumming before his sweet baby does. He can focus of the task at hand first. This is literally the ONLY time he accepts hovering. If he’s asking to have his face sat on, he’s going to get pissed if they hover. “Babe, I said sit the fuck down.” In the case of penetrative sex, he loves cowgirl. Someone that knows how to ride is sure to make him lose his mind. He’ll leave them mostly in control to use him however they like but if they get tired, he doesn’t mind taking charge.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

It depends on a few factors. The type of person his sexual partner is, his relationship to them, the circumstance behind the sex, etc. If he’s having sex with his significant other and he’s feeling particularly jealous, there won’t be a damn thing on this earth to crack a smile about. If he’s with a hookup that he hit it off with and they accidentally elbowed him in the head while shifting positions, then yeah, he’ll chuckle it off. If he’s with a partner that he feels truly and deeply safe with and connected to, anything can make him giggle before a couple kisses. It really just depends.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He’s got a thin happy trail that turns into full on thick, straight pubes. He tries to keep everything shaved down as best as he can because he hates how hot he gets when he’s rocking a full bush.  When he’s not doing well though, he lets it go and doesn’t really think about it. Chances are during this time, no one is seeing what’s going on down there anyway. Not even if he has a significant other.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

Just as mentioned before, he’s different depending on the relationship with his partner. Now, there is an elephant in the room. Akira Nishikiyama was known to be quite the casanova. He did treat all of his partners as if they were the most special people on the planet. That was what left them so smitten afterward but it’s different for romantic partners. His voice is softer as is his gaze and touch. It’s not a mask that he can simply put on to impress them. This is genuine. He’s not being a playboy. He’s simply a man in love. They know that he doesn’t want to let them go. 

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He’s quick to masturbate if he’s giving head. Hell, he masturbates at the thought of giving head if he can’t get to them fast enough sometimes. He prefers jerking himself to actual penetrative sex when he’s got a wet pussy sliding across his tongue. He’s not really afraid to yank it if he has to. It’s a natural part of life as far as he’s concerned. He likes to wrap a pair of his partner's panties around the base of his dick as he strokes himself when he can.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Pussy worship- Akira is obsessed with the female form but most specifically the pussy. He can’t get enough of the taste, the smell, the juices mixed with saliva running down his chin. He could eat his lover’s pussy a million times and he’s certain he’d be on his knees begging to go a million more. 

Praise/Body worship (receiving)-  Sometimes when he’s feeling low, he enjoys being on the receiving end of worship and praises. He wants to hear that his body is the one that’s perfect. He wants to be the one touched delicately. He wants to be marveled at. Deep down, it’s not even a want. It’s really a need. And is that too much to ask?

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Wherever the pants fall. If his partner isn’t afraid of sneaking a quickie in somewhere quiet but public, he’s all for it. Hell, he’s not above fucking in his car if the mood strikes but the post nut clarity does make him stress out alot about the mess afterwards. So, he’ll try to make it to whoever’s place is closest or even a love hotel, when he can. If he’s in a lodging of some kind when it’s time to take action, he’ll take the bed, the floor, couch, table– he doesn’t care. He does have a really soft spot for shower and bathtub sex though. He typically reserves that for his romantic partners but hey, if he’s showering with a hookup and either of them are raring to go another round, he won’t be opposed. 

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

As long as he’s attracted to his partner, it doesn’t really take a whole lot to get him going but there are a few things that will get him sending those eyes in their direction: He’s very fond of tight dresses that stop around the mid-thigh and a pair of heels. He may have his poker face on but chances are he’s thinking about ankles dangling over his shoulders or those thighs squishing around his head. He’s got a thing for the color red, too. Red lips, red nails, red heels, a red dress or skirt- hell, even pants and shorts work. (Not all at once obviously- he appreciates style before all else.) It really turns him on. He’s not even sure why it riles him up like that. It’s a certain shade of red though. Bright, cherry red. Another thing is really mental stimulation- he wants someone that can keep up with him. As long as there’s mutual respect, there’s going to be a lot of banter but sometimes he’ll (playfully) get fed up with the shit talk and once the opportunity presents itself, he’ll be challenging them in another way. 

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

There’s not a whole lot that he won’t do. When it comes to sex, he tries his best to be as open minded as possible. He’d hard no something like scat but he’d consider watersports before eventually coming to a soft no. If it sorta happened by accident or something he wouldn’t be upset but he doesn’t see himself being super excited about it. One thing is for certain, he’s definitely not into having sex with someone who hasn’t given enthusiastic consent. If he can’t tell that his partner is 100% into it, he’ll go soft immediately. Maybe it’s an ego thing, but he needs to be able to tell from beginning to end that they’re dying to be with him.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He can appreciate receiving good head. If he’s got a partner that’s got him whining and curling his toes, he would remember their name and number by heart forever. But he will dream about the lover whose pussy made him cum all over himself in minutes. There is no aspect of sex that he enjoys more than pussy eating and he’s fantastic at it. He doesn’t share this fact, he lets his partners learn this themselves… or through the grapevine. He’s passionate, enthusiastic– perhaps even overly enthusiastic, leaving one to question who is the one really on the receiving end of the pleasure. There was a period of time when he thought that there was something wrong with him, since not many of his friends shared the same passion but once he realized how appreciative his partners were afterward he came to terms with it. He’s got an abnormally long tongue and he’s not afraid to use it in ways that he’s certain the creator never intended. About the length of his tongue, he often jokes that when he was being created, something got messed up and the inches meant for his dick went to his tongue instead. Age and experience has helped him shed insecurity over it. He’s grateful for it now and he’d have it no other way. He enjoys penetrative sex, absolutely, but he can cum just as hard- if not harder while performing oral.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Pace depends on the factors at play- Who is he having sex with? Why is he having sex with them? Where is he having sex with them? If he knows exactly how the other person likes it, chances are, he’s just going to fuck them whichever way they prefer. However, it goes without saying that he’s a jealous romantic partner, and sometimes he has really territorial sex that consists of marking like, biting and hickies and his strokes are typically just harder by default. Sometimes, he’ll even have sex with the intention of relieving stress and even then he’s rough. If his partner is okay with it, that’s going to consist of a lot of smacking and slapping- this could be as mild as the ass or thighs or even a little more intense like the face and chest. He tries to get the majority of it out of his system well before he cums because he’d like to show his partner some gentleness and appreciation. He doesn’t want them to feel used by the end. 

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Sometimes a quickie is all he has time for before he walks out of the door. Sometimes the mood’s struck in an “unfortunate” setting and he and his partner have to make do where they are– Akira Nishikiyama is not opposed to quickies by a long shot. If there's an opportunity to get it in and he’s in the mood, he’s down. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

If the risk is semi-public sex, he’s doooown! No questions asked. If the risk is unprotected sex with a random hookup– no thanks. Not only is he terrified of catching something, he’s not a fan of the idea of having a kid he’s not prepared for with a person he doesn’t even know. Even if he’s with someone he’s known a while or been with for a while, it takes a lot for him to forgo a condom. Once he finally does, he’s going to be stressed about it the first few months after the fact. 

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He’s got pretty high stamina. He can last a good while but once he cums he’s going to definitely need a break. He’s rebooting. If his partner hasn’t been taken care of yet or is still wanting more in the meantime, he’s more than happy to pleasure them any other way that doesn’t involve his dick. It’s on break and not to be disturbed. He can definitely fuck a few times a day when they’re separated by hours but back to back rounds (just minutes apart) aren’t a daily occurrence. He’s got to really be fucking out some pent up rage if he’s fucking through a previous orgasm or something. 

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’s cool if his partner has a vibrator but he’s not cool with a dildo that’s any larger than his cock. It will trigger insecurity in him that he refuses to discuss. It’ll be obvious what’s happening. So, does it really need a conversation? Anyway, he’ll couple their vibe with whatever it is he’s doing. He’ll put it against their clit while he’s sending his hips forward to knock and knock against their g-spot. He’s had someone use a vibrating cock ring on him before and he enjoyed it but it was way too much stimulation for him. He became overwhelmed with all the sensations. He sometimes makes his lover hold their vibe against their clit while he tongue fucks them. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Akira is a fantastic lover but he’s a cruel fucker. He loves making his partners squirm. The more hardened a person they are, the more hellbent he will be on breaking them down until they’re nothing but a begging slut. He takes great pleasure in making people beg to be touched, to cum, to have him inside of them. It strokes his ego knowing how bad he’s needed. If he can get someone to say words they’d usually never utter in any other circumstances, he’d be on top of the world. As much as he likes to tease and make his partners wait for what he’s going to give them, he’s screaming and crying on the inside because he needs it just as bad if not more than they do. He’ll have a good game face but he cracks the moment he’s inside them or his tongue is met with slick- whichever comes first.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Unless he’s eating pussy (because he’s really too far gone then), he really tries to hold back when he’s with someone who’s not his romantic partner aside from panting. He’d much rather hear the result of what he’s doing to him than vice versa. However, if he’s comfortable enough? He’s a moaning groaner. His sounds start out as soft moans and he punctuates them with loud groans. He talks a good bit too, no matter who he’s with. He’s asking if his partner is feeling good. He’s teasing them. He’s complimenting them. He’s telling them what to do. 

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

To backtrack to the letter M– his affinity for the color red on his lover is serious. He will pay for them to get their nails done biweekly if they let him and regularly put in a special request for the color red. When they’re done, he wants them to show them off, but he wants them to model their pretty fingers by wrapping them around his dick. He doesn’t know what his problem is but there’s something about seeing pearlescence dripping down that glossy red paint that drives him nuts. Don’t even get him started on having red lipstick smeared across his cockhead…

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Akira is a little less than average in length erect coming in at just over 4 ½ inches and uncircumcised. His shaft is tan while the head is bright pink, looking more reddish when he’s erect. He’s got a nice girth with it but the tastiest part of his dick isn’t the girth, it’s the curve. That curve!! His penis is formed as if it was special ordered to stimulate a g-spot. There was a very long period of time when he found himself extremely insecure about his length. He still does battle with it sometimes. If he has to be honest, he attributes that insecurity to how he gained his cunnilingus skill. He wanted to make sure that he pleased his partners somehow and he didn’t think his dick was the way to do it. Over time, he came to really, really enjoy the activity. Eventually he learned through exploration that his dick can stimulate that spot even better than his fingers can. He’s unstoppable now. 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

His mental health affects his sex drive a lot. Sure, when he’s frustrated and angry, he does find himself wanting to do it for a bit of stress relief. When he’s down though, he doesn’t want to be touched nor does he want to touch himself. He can sometimes go months without any sort of sexual stimulation/activity. It’s just the last thing on his mind. When he’s doing well mentally? It’s pretty average. He does notice a spike in his sex drive anytime he’s in a relationship, though. He could have them multiple times a day if they’re open to it. Funnily enough, his desire is highest in the mornings and if he gets it out of his system when he first wakes up, he’s fine all day. If he ignores it, he just has to struggle with need nagging at him nonstop. 

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s never been a saint but for as long as he could remember, he had been casted as the righteous man. The one who was resolved in doing the right thing in spite of all of his flaws and imperfections– in spite of the type of world he lived in. Intentionally or not, he played the role well. He managed to convince everyone, including himself, that he was exactly who they believed him to be. He structured his life around a just moral code. He knew the difference between right and wrong and preached those words to anyone that didn’t.

But you saw right through him from the start and that chilled him to the bone. 

Since the day he met you, he's fought a losing battle with himself to prove that he wasn’t this man– a man who could betray the one person in the world who believed him to be the most loyal. He wasn’t the type of man to fall for the one person on the planet who should have been off limits. Regardless of how many contradictions filled his book of morals, not a single one of them condoned his getting with a friend’s ex. 

Kiryu always did hate how expressive his eyes were. Too often did they give him away and he was a fool to believe that his cold and aloof act could hide that from you. 

Not you. 

Your body trembled beneath his, warm hands extending to take hold of his glistening face and you did your best to pant his name. Beneath the rustling sheets, the cheap, whiny springs and the rhythmic knock of the headboard against the thin, poorly painted wall, he shouldn’t have heard it but when he was buried in you like this, it was as if all of his senses heightened to the extreme. 

He knew wrong from right and he preached those words to anyone who didn’t and that made him a hypocrite of the highest order. 

He would drive his twitching cock into you and tell himself that he knew what he was doing was wrong. He told himself that he wouldn’t make excuses for it. He reminded himself that had the tables been turned, even he would have been shattered by a betrayal of this magnitude.

Then, you would call his name and suddenly excuses were all that he was good for. 

How was he capable of anything else when you pulled him in to kiss you like this? When you squeezed and tugged at him like being filled by him was your birthright, like you owned him and anything he had to offer.

Breathless whispers spilled from his mouth and fell into yours. He rolled his hips in a languid pace that made his own toes curl and as his eyes fluttered shut, he could hear a siren’s song beckoning him to sink deeper and deeper and deeper. 

Stake your claim. It sang. Drown. This belongs to you. 

Forget the consequences. Forget them. 

Forget him. 

This… belongs to you.

No one would ever believe him if he spoke of its call– if he blamed it for him destroying with one hand what the other carefully built.

With his tongue entwining with yours, feeling your nails cascading along and further marking his ink covered back, he could trick himself into believing that every stroke brought him closer and closer to rewriting the past– wiping both your memories clean of the man whose name you refused to remember.

Akira’s dark hair danced in the gentle wind, tickling his cheek while stray strands caught in his eyelashes. Each time he brought the car to a halt, the hand that had been guiding the steering wheel reached up to brush it back, fingertips tender as they grazed his scalp. He had been wearing a short sleeved shirt that showed off his carefully toned arms, biceps bulging with each maneuver. The summer air was dry and it kept him licking his lips to provide them with a bit of moisture.

Soon, he would be asking you to share your chapstick by way of a kiss. You were sure of it.

 The fine hairs on his right arm, relaxed across the window molding, stood, as the air teased through them giving him goosebumps. His self-manicured fingers drummed onto the door panel to the tune of Koi no Disco Queen, a few years old now but just as catchy as the first time he heard it. 

A soft smile lifted at his pink lips, corners twitching in a threat to widen and bare teeth. He fought against those muscles though, knowing that if he gave in, you would tease him. With his right hand, he wiped at his damp lips, smiling into his knuckles then kneaded into his bottom just a bit before returning to his attempt at stoicism to no avail. 

Akira flipped up his blinkers then nibbled at his thumb nail, smirking. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t help himself. 

You were going to help him wash his car and he couldn’t be more excited! If he didn’t count the times that Kiryu begrudgingly tagged along, he only ever washed his car alone. So, there was something about the prospect of watching you take care of something so dear to him in earnest that made him sort of… giddy, perhaps.

Every so often, he would switch the hands at the wheel so that he could reach over to your bare thigh and stroke at your supple skin. The gesture was twofold; partly to remind himself that this was really happening and the other to assure you that although he hadn’t said much since he picked you up from the station, he was thinking of you and so very grateful for your company. 

When he reached for you this time, you placed your hand atop his and gave him the slightest of squeezes. It concerned him. So, he turned down the radio before glancing over at you with a raised brow– the car again in motion. 

“You alright?” he asked, the sudden break in near silence between you two was almost startling. 

“I am,” you nodded. “But I guess I’m a little worried.”

“Really? What are you worried about?” he asked, his thumb massaging into your warm thigh.

“I don't know… What if I mess up, or something?”

“C’mon, what are you talking about? It’s just a little soap and water. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“I could ruin your paint job.” you suggested.

“What are you planning to wash it with? Bricks?” he chuckled. 

“Yeah, real funny.” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’m being serious!”

“I know, babe. I can tell and I’m listening.”

“It’s just that...” you began, eyes dancing along the dashboard. “This car is like, your most prized possession or something!”

Akira scoffed, “Is that what you think?”

“Well? Isn’t it?”

“Sure, it’s pretty important to me… Yeah,” he began, now gripping at your thigh. “But I can think of other things that I’d say mean more.”

Approaching a traffic light, Akira slowed the car down to a stop and he used it as an opportunity to face you. His eyes were as gentle as the fingers he brought up to caress your cheek then stroked your jaw. Finally, he smiled at you. 

“Babe,” he began. “Let’s try not to overthink this, alright? We’re gonna have fun and I promise that I’m gonna make it worth your while once it’s all said and done. Just… Try to relax for me.”

“I’ll try.” you sigh. 

Almost immediately after the breath escaped you, a glimmer of mischief glimmered in your eye and his own widened a tad in response.

“But only if you promise that there’ll be a reward.” you smiled.

He laughed, shaking his head and returning his focus to the road as he began accelerating. “Everyone in this town wants something. Fine, I promise. Whatever you want.”

Folding your arms, you shimmy in your seat and spoke in your most pompous of voices, “Very well, then. I require financial compensation.”

“Understood. Name your price.”

“¥100,000.”

Akira’s neck nearly snapped when he glanced over at you, “O-Oi, isn’t that more than a little steep for someone that’s not even sure they can do it right?”

You gasped, “No way, Akira! You promised that I could have whatever I wanted! Did you not?”

“Uh, yeah, because I was expecting you to say something cute like, ‘a kiss~♥️’ or something like that!” he argued, lips tugging downward. “Ha, ‘¥100,000.’, y’know I don’t pay nearly that much for a professional car detail, right?”

“Huh… So even the ever-flashy yakuza have their limits?” you mumbled, stroking your chin. “Fascinating.”

“Oi, don’t talk about me like I’m some sort of test subject! You know, I expect to get ripped off by randoms in Kamurocho but to be ripped off by my own girlfriend… Fine, if that’s what you want.”

You looked at him with a faux-shocked expression, “That’s all it took for you to cave? Geez, put up more of a fight, why don’t you Nishikiyama! They’ll wring you dry in this town.”

“Listen, a man’s got his pride to look after… Can’t have you underestimating my wallet.”

Laughing, you rolled your eyes then turned to look out of the window. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

He pressed his palm at the top of your head and smirked, “Maybe so.”

The harsh sunlight forced you both to squint. You mentally kicked yourself for not packing a pair of sunglasses or two beforehand, the sun visor didn’t seem to be helping much. He made his final turn then pulled the car beneath a concrete bay, hindering the sun’s rays at last. You rubbed at your eyes, then darted them around at your surroundings taking note of the faint artificial floral notes wafting through the windows and passing your nose. You had never been to this place before and yet the scent was vaguely nostalgic, a strange combination of summer rain and canned peaches but not unpleasant.

There was only one bay and across from it a vacuum canopy on the lot, surrounded by overgrown trees and a single desolate building. It… “belonged to a friend,” Akira told you, a private car wash and from the looks of the location, you couldn’t help but wonder if it used to be public and later sold because the original owner couldn’t make a profit. 

When you looked over at him, he was stuffing his keys in his pocket and tugging his t-shirt over his head, seemingly eager to expose his fit build while he worked. The colorful koi on his back caught your attention when he reached toward the door handle to let himself out and you wondered if it would be okay for him to be brandishing his ink out in public like this. Before you could bring yourself to ask, he tossed his top onto his seat behind him and winked at you, a flirtatious grin on his lips.

“Time to get to work, _____.” he said, adjusting the waistband of his burgundy board shorts. “You can check me out later.”

“Ugh, please.” you groaned, narrowing your eyes at him but that didn’t change the fact that his comment made heat radiate off your cheeks. He always knew how to fluster you.

You exited the vehicle and stripped down to what you were prepared to get wet, just in case and then you slinked your way to the trunk where he was rifling through his supplies. When you were at his side, Akira sized you up and you could tell from the twinkle in his eye that he approved of your change of clothes. 

Very much so.

“Alright.” he said, reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

“Oh, you didn’t need to pay me in advance!” you joked.

“Ha, you wish I was paying you at all.”

“Ah, so you are a cheapskate!”

Akira cut his eyes at you so sharp you might have bled then curtly handed you two ¥1,000 yen notes. “Shut it. I got a job for you, alright?”

“Right!”

His eyes danced over to the plaque hanging on the wall behind your head as you reached for the cash. “Change this out for me, will you?” he asked.

“Sure thing!”

When you turned away from him, you felt a crisp smack at your bottom that startled you but still, you laughed. That must have been repayment for teasing him so much. You didn’t mind. You glanced back at him to find a smirk playing upon his lips, utterly pleased with himself for managing to cop a feel and get back at you all at once. Shaking your head, you bounce over to the change machine. 

It took a little fighting but eventually it ate the notes and spat out a bunch of coins in the equal amount. The money clanked down into the coin return and since there was no surrounding sound to rival it, the clanking made your ears ring. You grabbed the change and returned to your boyfriend, who swiped a long finger along the roof of his car and frowned at the buildup of dirt he collected. 

“Here you go.” you said, startling him out of his train of thought, attempting to hand it to him.

“Nuh-uh,” Akira shook his head, “This is your job, babe.”

“My job?”

“Yeah, I’ll show you. C’mon.” he said, grabbing the bucket of supplies sitting at his sandaled feet with one hand and leading you toward the control panel with the other. When you reached the wall, he guided you forward, his hand lingered at your lower back. Even without his shirt, you could still get hints of his cologne, a scent that's always been so uniquely him. It nearly made your knees buckle. 

“That’s a lot of options.” you said, attempting to distract yourself from his torso pressing against your arm.

“It’s not so bad once you get used to it. For now,” he began, nudging you close toward the panel, “give it about ¥500.”

And you do.

“Now, you see that dial? You’re gonna turn it to the sticker with the tire.”

Carefully turning the knob, you found yourself slightly started by the resulting hiss followed by a crack or two behind you. Akira rubbed at your back as if to assure you that it was nothing to be concerned about. Soon, there was a buzz and then the hissing lowered.

“Okay, now you see that gun looking thing hanging up over there?” he said, pointing at the opposite wall. There was a nozzle mounted on the wall that had begun to leak a green fluid. You nodded. “You’re just gonna grab it and use it to coat the tires.”

Sandals smacking the soles of your feet, you set off to collect the nozzle. Your eyes followed the hose up toward the ceiling and noted that the boom followed your direction, knowing that you could relax about accidentally disconnecting something. You pressed the trigger of the wand and frowned when it initially jerked.

“It’s fine, just give it a sec.” he said.

“‘Kay.”

The second pull of the trigger was smoother and you finally began to aim for your targets- the grimy tires and rims. At a glance, you wouldn’t necessarily say that his car was all that dirty. The silver that you were slowly coating seafoam green didn’t appear to have much oil aside from its innermost crevices. Even so, Akira has been speaking about doing this- taking his car for a wash, almost as if he had been anxious about it. You thought, if it would help him relax, you were happy to lend a hand.

When you noticed him closing in on you, he had a brush in tow and he used it to diligently scrub each tire you sprayed. Occasionally, you would catch him staring at you, a faint smile resting on his lips and he would offer you a couple of words of encouragement or check in to make sure that you were okay. It was almost like he was coaching you at a friendly baseball game or something. 

After you were done spraying the tires, he directed you to hang up the gun and join him on his scrubbing spree with the additional brush he bought specifically for today. 

“You’re doing great, _____,” he said, joining you at the final tire. “But don’t be afraid to really get in there, alright? Sometimes you’ve gotta be a little tough in those crevices. Otherwise, you’ll be there forever trying to break down that oil and gunk.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss at your temple before returning his attention to the rim. “Cut yourself a break. Like I said, you’re doing great. ”

Once he was certain that the rim had been thoroughly scrubbed, he took your brush from you, returned them both back to the bucket then led you back to the control panel. 

“I never use this one but I’m gonna get it a try today. Wait here, alright?”

He turned the dial, grabbed the sprayer and aimed at his windshield. It wasn’t as if the task took very long but the way you took him in almost seemed to make time stand still. His clenched jaws drew your attention to, for the millionth time, how handsome his facial structure was. His flat high cheekbones, near hollow cheeks coupled with his thin pointed brows made him oh, so pretty but it was his strong jawline and sharp chin that gave him that more rugged appeal. 

The one that initially made you worry that getting involved with him would’ve been dangerous somehow and it was, but not quite for the reasons you expected. The only trouble he caused you was putting you under his spell, by doing nothing but moving about as candidly as this and still managing to steal your breath away. 

Wind blew through the bay, sending his shiny black hair, so full of healthy volume, all over his head and with an annoyed click of his tongue, he brushed it back with his fingertips and that was when he caught you staring. 

He smiled and with the wind in his hair, he was picture perfect. 

“There you are again,” he laughed. “I’m gonna have to start charging you for checking me out like this.”

You couldn’t help it. He truly was breathtaking. 

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. “You wish.”

“So you’re saying I’m wrong?” he said, finally satisfied with his task. “You weren’t checking me out?”

“Very wrong.”

“Funny,” He stepped over toward you, deliberately slow, muscular shoulders swaying with each step. “I could’ve sworn you were undressing me with your eyes over here.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? That’d just feed your little ego, wouldn’t it?”

He smiled goofily, wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you back against the wall, “Maybe a little bit.”

“Oh, well that’s just too bad.” you huffed.

“C’mon, humor me a little.” he pouted, pressing his forehead gently against yours. “You’re too harsh when you get embarrassed.”

“Who says I’m embarrassed? I’m not embarrassed..”

“Liar.”

“Am not.”

“You so are.”

“Says who?”

He pressed his lips to your right cheek. “Your face is so hot it could fry my lips off, you know.”

“Whatever!” you laughed, pushing against his taut chest half-heartedly but he didn’t budge. 

Despite the less than kind temperature, you didn’t mind being sandwiched between the warm concrete wall and his sweat-sheened body. He caged you in, angular brown eyes glistening as they focused on your lips before darting upward to meet yours. 

“You’re too cute,” he whispered, leaning in until his lips were a mere breath apart. You anticipated his kiss but instead all you got was: 

Simple answer: Nishiki.

To elaborate: I think that Nishiki is the type to sorta freeze when he's suddenly hugged but quickly melts into it when he realizes what's happening. I also see him pulling them in as flush to him as he can without it being too forward. He's firm, but he's gentle. He lingers. Or, if they linger, he's perfectly content with that and doesn't begin to let go until he can feel that they're ready to let go first...

In the case of Kiryu, I think he's so touch starved that he doesn't really know how to relax into a hug. Unless this is a person whose warmth he's been desperately craving, he's probably stiff when they first wrap their arms around him (and probably still a bit then). It's not because he doesn't like them, or because he doesn't want to be touched. He's just... out of practice. He could get better with time, I think.

So, yeah! I think Nishiki would be the most huggable here, and I also think that between the two of them, he gives the best hugs... Plus, he smells like he's been spritzed with a scent sourced straight from heaven.

MASATO AIZAWA

He can multitask just fine but since he relies heavily on checking his partner’s expressions to make sure they’re okay, he does get concerned over whether or not he's gone overboard with thrusting into their mouth or if they’re taking more of him than they can handle. He probably won’t last in the position for very long and might suggest just taking turns pleasuring each other so that he can keep his eyes on them. 

AKIRA NISHIKIYAMA

Are you KIDDING? Any time his partner is offering to smother his face is a good time for him! He LOOOVES 69’ing. He treats it like a competition– an olympic sport in which he brings home the gold. If he hasn’t rendered their mouth useless, then he hasn’t done his job properly! He needs to feel their breath hitting the head of his dick with ragged pants as they try and fail to take him into their mouth because they can’t stop moaning at how good he’s making them feel.

REINA HATTORI

Reina, Reina, Reina… The poor thing. She cannot multitask to save her life. She does try her hardest, but if they’re talented, she essentially winds up laying across them like a weighted blanket with claws. By the time it’s over, she’ll have fully sat on their face and rode until her thighs are trembling against their cheeks. On the bright side, she would offer to return the favor. After all, it’s only polite.

OSAMU KASHIWAGI

He thinks about it often. He just doesn’t know how to ask for it. That’s the case for a lot of things when it comes to getting physical with his lover. If his partner is more open and honest about their desires than he is, and they ask for it, he’ll agree before the words are fully out of their mouth. The moment his partner swings their leg over his face, his dick starts twitching with excitement. Once it meets their mouth… Well, he may have to take five because he may very well cum in less than that.

KAORU SAYAMA

She loves 69’ing because she sees it as an opportunity to take charge on both ends. While she’s rolling her hips to make use of her partner’s tongue as she sees fit, she teases them as she works them over. She’ll give them what they like but never at the pace or the pressure that they’re so desperately craving– not until she’s done playing her little game at least.

KAZUMA KIRYU

He does his best. He does, but trying to juggle a combination of the two things that drives him craziest has the potential to undo him completely. There might be many times where he’ll stiffen and pause and pant as he tries his best to fight his hips’ urge to shoot forward in that finishing thrust. Having his partner work at him so diligently makes him want to repay them in kind. So, he’ll lock his arms around their hips to force all their weight onto him and won’t let up until he’s just seconds away from suffocation.

GORO MAJIMA

Oh, he loves that shit! It’s not unusual for a blowjob to turn into 69’ing. He loves getting blown, but damn does his mouth start to water when he thinks about what he’d like to do with them next. The thoughts overcome him and he loses his patience long before ‘his turn’ is over. He’ll lure his partner up and over his face, while running his hands up their back as far as it’ll go to guide them down. He loves being smothered by them and he loves the feeling of his cock gliding down their throat over and over. If he’s not looking to cum yet, he has to stay away from this position because he’s one choked moan away from digging his fingertips into the backs of their thighs and grunting against them as he fucks their face.

I just wanna thank all 69 (and hopefully counting) of you for the love and support since I came back to Tumblr! Y'all have made running this blog something to be excited about again. I don't think I have the words to explain how happy all of your sweet and funny messages have made me! I hope to keep sharing stuff that makes you happy <3

Nishiki could feel the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he watched you sway in your seat to the music, a jazzy cover of some pop song that’s been played to death by him and everyone else in the country for that matter. He always enjoyed that song but now, he’s got a specific memory he would like to attach to it. You, with your eyes closed, head tilted back exposing the length of your neck, rolling your bare shoulders to the melody. 

Just like him, you had become quite tipsy and toasty. So, you slipped out of your jacket. He did you the favor of hanging it up on the coat rack with the excuse of needing to finally do the same for his own but while he sat there studying every inch of your skin, he had to be honest with himself; it was entirely selfish. 

You had been four deep of Daisuke’s newest signature cocktail and he wasn’t sure what you were feeling more, the alcohol or the music but one thing was for certain, you definitely didn’t feel him ogling you.

And he was grateful for that fact. 

He just couldn’t help himself. He felt kind of guilty about it especially when you seemed so disarmed and unaware of the unsavory thoughts permeating his mind but not guilty enough to stop them. 

On the other hand, you appeared to have mellowed out quite a bit since you first arrived. While he wanted to take the credit since he offered a listening ear, he knew the effects of Daisuke’s mixing. He drank a few of what you had before being granted his bottle and it all hit him at once. Hence why he tried to encourage you to slow down and swap to water like he had done by glass number two but his plea fell on deaf ears.

You didn’t toss them back like this at the club and it made him wonder if you often drank like this in your off time or if you were drinking your stress away. Perhaps, even nerves. If it was the latter, he wished you would let him help with that instead. 

He wondered for what felt like ages what you tasted like, how you kept yourself, what got you going and how wet you got. He fisted his dick after leaving your club more times than he could count. Having seen you so stressed out lately had been working him into a frenzy. 

Worked-up women always tasted the best. 

He could never figure out when was the right time to make his move on you though since you never showed him any indication that you were into him. Usually, that was a breath of fresh air but on nights like tonight, he was desperate for a sign.

Inviting you out tonight was never about making a move on you but he did think to himself that if he saw the opportunity, he wouldn’t pass it up. After all, he waited a year and four months for ‘the right time’. However, if your slurred rant about some idols he never heard of was anything to go by, you were too sloshed to be making any sort of decisions aside from what you’d like to eat to sober up. 

Now that he knew he could steal you away from that club, he came up with a new approach. Something nicer than this. Perhaps, he would even work up the nerve to use the word “date” when extending the next invitation.

As if you could hear that thought, you looked at him with a glazed over expression. You were gorgeous but your eyes were so glassy, you looked as if you were on the verge of tears. He looked over to Daisuke who had been washing dishes on the opposite end of the bar and waved him over.

“You’re not looking too hot, ____.” he whispered to you. “Daisuke, can we get her one of your nasty sober bombs and some pickled veggies or something?”

“Must you insult my concoction?” Daisuke sighed, drying his hands. 

“Your ‘concoction’ is gross as hell and you know it.”

“Whatever.” the older man sighed playfully, rolling his eyes before gliding along the bar for the ingredients.

You frowned. “Why are you getting me something you call ‘gross as hell’?”

“Because you’re drunk and it’s getting late.” he said, looking at his watch. “Remind me what city you said you lived in again?”

“Nerima,” you said, tonging your straw.

“Good luck finding a taxi that runs all the way over there that doesn’t cost you an arm and a leg and your spleen.” Daisuke chuckled, placing an orange tinted cocktail in front of you. 

You shrugged, “It’s fine, I’ll just take the train.”

“When’s the last train?” Nishiki asked.

“12:30.”

Fuck.

“And the next one?”

“After five.”

Double fuck.

He didn’t mind covering your taxi fare but he knew that at this location at this hour, not only would it be difficult to hail a cab but the drivers would gouge you once they took you where you needed to go. He felt guilty. He should’ve asked you all of that the moment you sat down but he was so stunned that most of the things he planned to talk to you were wiped from his memory as if you pressed a button. 

You were in no condition to figure it out on your own. He never would have forgiven himself if something happened to you. From then it was decided that making sure you made it home safely was his responsibility and sobering you up was the first step. 

Almost as if his thoughts willed it, Daisuke placed a plate of pickled veggies and a bowl of soba in front of you.

“And a water, too,” he ordered.

“No problem.” his friend nodded, then placed a glass of water on the counter not long after. 

You stared at the spread in front of you as if you were confused and if he weren’t so worried, he might’ve found it cute. He grabbed the orange cocktail, stirred it with the spoon the bartender left on a napkin for you then handed it over.

“Here, start with this first.” he said.

You looked at him with curious glass eyes, “What’s this?”

“I’d say don’t think too much about it but you’re a lady– listen, it’s not very good but it’ll sober you up pretty fast. Just toss it back and if you have to burp, burp. Don’t worry about manners. It’s turmeric, ginger, soda water and some other weird shit he’s tossed in there. It helps if you pinch your nose.”

You seemed to register his words moments after he said them which was all the more reason for you to drink the damn thing. Thankfully, you didn’t fight him on it unlike a certain stubborn friend of his. Pinching your nose, you took a sip.

“No, ____, trust me. It’s worse if you do it that way.” he laughed. “Just rip the bandaid.”

Clenching your brows, you lifted the glass and took big gulps of it until it was empty then you shoved it into his hand and clenched at your chest.

“I’m so sorry.” he smiled apologetically. “Pretty bad, huh?”

You nodded before letting out a loud belch. His eyes widened at both the sound and your surprised expression before tossing his head back and laughing. 

“That happens.” he said, pressing his hand to your back. “You don't need me to help, do you?”

You laughed, swiping his arm away. “Knock it off, Nishikiyama-san. I’m not a baby.”

“Geez, don’t be so feisty.” he chuckled then pushed your food closer to you. “Alright, now eat up and make sure you drink all your water, okay?”

You nodded and immediately began to dig in. The two of you sat in silence for a while as you worked on the small meal in front of you until you suddenly spoke up.

“Nishikiyama-san?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry that I let myself drink so much and now you’re having to take care of me.” you said.

You were too precious. 

He really could eat you up…

He would be lying to himself and the fire that’s been roaring inside him since he pressed his hand to your warm skin if he told himself that he meant that figuratively this time. 

“Don’t mention it, _____. At this point, I’m practically returning a long overdue favor. Just how many times have you helped me or my drunk friends sober up?”

“It’s my job.” 

“No,” he said, placing a new cigarette into his mouth and lighting it. “Your job is to let me get wasted, take my money then push me out so that you can repeat the process for the next guy… The fact that you care so much is what keeps me coming back.”

“Nishikiyama-san…”

“So,” he exhaled, watching as his smoke danced up to the ceiling. “Once you’re sober enough to tell me how many fingers I’m holding up, how do you wanna do this? He closes up shop at 3 but he lets me stay after hours til I’m good all the time. We could stay til around time for the trains to start running again.”

He watched you slurp up a noodle before washing it back with some water, “Oh, I don’t want to be a bother.”

Nishiki waved his hand, “You’re not. He’s a good buddy of mine. He gave me a key to the place. I’ll just lock up when we’re done. He leaves when he’s ready. Don’t let his polite speaking fool you, that guy does not care once he flips that sign around.”

“I can hear you, Nishikiyama.” Daisuke said from behind you where he had been wiping down a table.

“If you’re going to eavesdrop on my conversation, at least cosign for me.” he groaned.

Daisuke chuckled, tossing his towel over his shoulder before coming to stand behind your chairs. “I’m not so sure about ‘me not caring’ once I’m closed but… I do trust Nishikiyama. So, if you need to seek refuge here until it’s safe for you to go home, I truly don’t mind.”

“Thanks.” he said sarcastically before the other man wacked him with the towel as he walked away. “The hell was that for?”

“Because I felt like it.” 

Nishiki turned his attention back to you, who had been finishing up the last of the warm noodles. “I would’ve suggested a ramen shop I know but…”

“Honestly, Nishikiyama-san,” you said, pushing the bowl away from you. “I’m getting sort of sleepy. I’m not sure how much longer I can stay awake here.”

He turned toward the empty bar behind you, “Want me to pull those tables out and let you stretch out on the banquette back there? He’s got some blankets in the storage room.”

You twisted in your seat then pressed your palms together as you lifted your shoulders. He wasn’t sure if you realized that you had done the same with your breasts but he wasn’t complaining.

“I’m… sorry.” you said, gritting your teeth.

“What’s up?”

“I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with that.” you said in an apologetic tone.

That was fair. 

“Okay,” he said, but he wasn’t sure how much more comfortable you would be with his second proposition. “Then, how about I take you home once you’ve finished your food and had a bit more water?”

He watched you think it over. When it took a moment too long, he opened his mouth to offer up a taxi. He knew it would be expensive but he spent far more at your job. He just wasn’t sure if he trusted you running off in a car with some strange man this late at night after you’ve had this much to drink but you interrupted him.

“Okay.” you said in a small voice. 

He could feel your hesitation. He wanted to give you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder but he considered if maybe being touched right now would be the least reassuring thing to do. Instead, he rested onto the counter as close to you as he could without entering your bubble and looked deep into your glossy eyes. 

“I promise to take you straight home, alright? No pit stops. I won’t suggest anything weird.” he said quietly, not wanting his friend to hear what was meant for your ears alone. “I meant what I said earlier.”

“About me not getting into your pants?” you said with a confused look.

He nearly spat with laughter, “What? No, about me wanting to help you unwind. You feel pretty relaxed now, right?”

You nodded. So, he smiled.

“Then, I guess my job here is done. Mission accomplished.” he said, patting himself down for his wallet forgetting that it was in his coat near the entrance.

“I see…” you said. “Then, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” he said, getting out of his seat. “But you’re still slurring a bit. So, let’s wait it out some more. I’m gonna settle the tab. Finish up the last of your food for me, alright?”

“Alright.”

—

You would have never imagined in all this time after hearing such stories about the man that he was so attentive. Had you not witnessed it firsthand, you probably wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told you. His behavior tonight was such a stark contrast to what you had been hearing about him. This wasn’t just about him making you eat bar foods and the most rancid drink you’ve ever had in your life to help you sober up. Anyone would do that, you thought. 

No one really wanted to deal with a drunk. 

It was everything following that that made your head spin and made you feel higher than whatever buzz the Hitonomi Special ever could. It was the careful way he helped you out of your seat once you were finished, the gentleness in which he slipped your jacket back onto your arms, the way he offered the muscular arm that you could feel through his coat to hang on to as you walked down the hall, to the elevator, out the door and down the sidewalk to his car. 

It was how he opened the door to his car for you and offered his hand for you to hold, then placed the other at your head out of caution to keep you from thumping yourself when you lowered inside. It was the way he kneeled beside you to click your seatbelt in place and when you laughed and told him that you were perfectly capable of doing it yourself, it was the soft way he smiled at you as he patted the top of your head and whispered, “I know you are.”

The drive had been mostly silent aside from you offering him directions and for good reason. While you enjoyed the hell out of yourself tonight, you had been fighting a losing battle since cocktail number three and though you were pretty much sober now, it seemed the damage was already done.

You always knew that you thought Nishikiyama was a handsome man but the more you got to know him tonight as _____, the woman and not the hostess, you had to come to terms with the fact that you had been lying to yourself for a very, very long time. 

You didn’t want to be one of those girls that started to get involved with one of her customers. You didn’t see anything wrong with it– Shit happened, but you heard stories and you never wanted to be the main character of one of your own. 

Tonight, though, after feeling the rush of bonding with him on a different level, learning how much you really had in common and of course, after evil cocktail number three, you felt drawn to his mouth. You hung on to his every word. Every time you watched him take a sip of his drink and pull back to reveal wet, pink lips, you felt a pair of your own growing wetter. 

The fourth cocktail was a mistake– you hoped that you could have enough to make you stop these salacious thoughts but instead, it seemed to have worked like an aphrodisiac and now, even after the alcohol was gone, you were still fighting with your rampant imagination. 

Those rumors found their way to the forefront of your mind and the thoughts you forced yourself not to think about were marching about. 

Loud and proud.

You should have been ashamed of yourself. All the man wanted was to treat you to a couple of drinks because you had been having a rough go of it at work and here you were thinking about whether or not he was truly as talented as they say. 

“And so, was it a left or right turn here?” he asked, breaking the silent streak.

“Huh?”

“You said to turn at the intersection, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Left or right.”

“Oh, sorry.” you chuckled nervously. “It’s right.”

“Got it.” he said, cutting the wheel to the right.

You couldn’t help but notice how big and pretty his hands were with the moonlight dancing across them. He maneuvered the steering wheel so delicately. Nishikiyama looked over at you, briefly before returning his attention back to the road. 

“Falling asleep over there?”

“A little.” you lied.

“Sorry,” he laughed. “I’d tell you to rest up but I sorta need you to get there.”

“I know.” you smiled, “We’re close though. It’s just down this street. Then, you’re going to turn left in between the alley of those two brick buildings.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He followed your instructions and then slowed once he got in between the buildings before looking at you. 

“Uh, straight through here?” 

“No, actually you can just let me out here. I’ll walk the rest of the way.” you said, rubbing at the chill on your shins.

Nishikiyama slowed to a stop and hesitated before putting the car in park. “How long of a walk is it?” 

“Maybe a few minutes.” 

“I can’t drop you off any closer than this?” he asked. “Want me to walk with you at least?”

“It’s okay.”

He watched you carefully, his brown eyes glistening. The moon shone into the car just right, kissing the side of his face and showing off just how beautiful of a man he really was. You could see the gears in his mind working. It was as if you could see him come to the conclusion that you weren’t comfortable with him knowing where you lived before he nodded.

“I’ve got a nosy neighbor, I–”

“It’s okay. Will you be safe?” he asked.

You nodded. 

Gosh, why didn’t everyone talk about this side of him? It was always about Nishikiyama the Stud, but this protectiveness was so much more attractive than whatever playboy picture everyone had been painting of him. 

“I will.” you smiled. “Oh, so hey. Will I see you at the club or were you serious about not coming anymore?”

He opened his mouth to speak. Then, he immediately shut them and rummaged through his armrest for a pen and paper before scribbling something down to hand to you. 

“Call me and we’ll go from there. I want to see you again, but I prefer that the next time I do isn’t at that place.”

You stared at the paper. Your heart began to pound. 

“O-Okay.” you said, then slipped the paper into your purse. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Anytime.” he smiled before unclicking your seatbelt. 

While you slid your seatbelt back up, he unclicked his own then reached over your lap to open your door. Your heart began to do as it had done right before you saw him for the first time tonight, pounded so loud that you could hear it ringing in your ears. Every single thought you had about him tonight plagued your mind, in rapid succession.

That faint sensual scent of his cologne still hadn’t worn off after all this time. His silky hair framed his face flatteringly as he tilted his head at you, high cheekbones lifted as he bid you goodnight with nothing but a smile while leaning on the armrest separating you. He was so close and yet, your desirous body longed for him to be even closer. He wasn’t asking for it but you couldn’t fight against your thoughts any longer.

You pressed your hands to either side of his stubbly face and you could see when his eyes went wide before you slotted your lips between his. Nishikiyama’s mouth was stiff against yours. It was as if you were practicing kissing with a Nishikiyama sized doll until he chuckled against your lips. Then, he brought his hands to your shoulders and gently peeled you away.

“____, I’m flattered, really.” he said before inhaling sharply. “But, you’re drunk.”

“Don’t.” you said. “I’m not. Not anymore.”

Nishikiyama scanned your face like he always did but this time it was clear that he was trying to make a decision. After all, he knew you had sobered up. He wouldn’t have let you leave unless you had. He took his own bottom lip into his mouth as he stared at and traced yours with his thumb, breath growing more and more erratic by the second. His gaze darted from your eyes to your lips and from your lips back to your eyes again. His dark brows needled together and a weak moan slipped past his lips before by seizing yours.

His lips were hungry against them. 

He kissed you as if he were desperate for it or something, if not for his track record, you might have wondered if it had been a while, but instead it seemed like something else entirely. Had it not been for the way his tongue slipped into your mouth, you would have continued to think about it– get to the bottom of it but instead he hit a mental reset button with his exploration.

While your tongues tied and drool rolled down your chin, you started to notice that Nishikiyama’s tongue seemed to go on and when you sucked at it you confirmed what you began to suspect. 

His tongue was quite long.

As if choreographed, each of you reached a hand beneath the fabric covering the other’s chest and let out breathy chuckles against each other’s lips before continuing the passionate tongue twisting affair. While the pads of his fingers ghosted over your nipple, you slipped your hand down to snatch his tucked shirt out of his pants, then snaked your own nimble fingers beneath the fabric. When you raked your nails along his tight abdomen, Nishikiyama let out a growl then broke from your lips to kiss wildly at your chin and along your jaw as he palmed the warm mound in his hand. 

You leaned onto the arm rest to give yourself enough leverage to repeat to him what he had done to you: plush lips, prickly chin, sharp jaw and then you began to kiss and lick at his neck. He gasped, tilting his head back, allowing you more of him and you gleefully accepted the invitation by sucking at his bobbing Adam's apple. A long, pathetic and shaky sigh escaped his lips as he stroked your head.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” he muttered. “_____.”

He grabbed a handful of your hair, a commanding move and yet still so tender when he pulled you back to look into your eyes. “Close. The fucking. Door.”

“Ok-ay.” you managed through a gulp.

—

While you reached for the door, his hand had made its way to your knee and slowly began to creep up your thigh. He was slow and deliberate, wanting to give you plenty of opportunity to stop him before things escalated any further. Instead, you joined him in watching as he slowly bunched the fabric beneath his thumb, even offering yourself to him by spreading your legs more so that he had no obstructions when his fingertips came to reach what you both wanted touched most. 

Nishiki stopped just an inch short of your womanhood. The heat emanating from you was so much warmer than the skin just below it and he fought the urge to dig in. He glanced up from your lap to meet your gaze, propositioning you with nothing but a quirked brow.

“Please.” you sighed out desperately.

Delaying you would have simply been denying himself. He lacked the discipline for that anyway. Now that you’ve placed yourself on the offering place, it would have been impolite not to graciously accept. 

A shudder rippled through him when he found that you were completely soaked through your panties. He didn’t even need to lift them to get a gauge. You told on yourself. 

Oh, sweet fucking girl.

He skimmed your pretty face, wondering how long you had been sitting next to him with this viscous mess seeping through your underwear. 

Nishiki’s fingers glided over your panties with ease as he rubbed at you, taking in the lewd cacophony of arousal trapped beneath fabric– panting and moaning. Each time you bucked into his hand, he felt a sliver of his sanity slip away from him.

He thought back to those nights when he returned home to his lonely apartment after seeing you– you in your form-fitting dresses and leg accentuating heels, looking as if someone had poured you into them. He wanted to drink you down until there was nothing left. He thought that night after night when his hand tugged viciously at his angry cock, wet and weeping for none other than you. 

He imagined the melody you would sing to him but his fantasies had done you a severe injustice and he almost wanted to apologize for it. 

Yeah, fantasy would never compare to the real thing. He screwed his eyes shut and mentally recorded you on cassette for him to come back to any time after tonight. He would never allow himself to forget.

“Mm, Nishikiyama-san…” you moaned, your hand finding its way into his hair as you threw your head back into your seat. 

Every pant passing through his parted lips was contributing to his fogging windows but he couldn’t help but find himself breathless while watching you get lost beneath his fingertips. 

Finally… 

The realization stunned him into inertia. 

The location wasn’t ideal. 

Truly, he felt he afforded you much more dignity than this, but seeing you sprawled out in his passenger seat like a centerfold– legs and lips parted, jacket and dress strap half slung off your rising and falling shoulder with a tit exposed, he was slowly convincing himself that you were right where you belonged. 

Finally, he had you and he has never found a better use for his car until now.

He savored every moment and if he was having one more wet dream about you, at least he wouldn’t wake up disappointed.

Hooking the soaked fabric with his thumb, he slid it over and ever so slowly slipped his middle fingers between your puffy lips. A groan came from deep within him. The situation was far more dire than he realized and he refused to believe that you were this responsive from a bit of kissing. 

Really, just how long had this honey been seeping into your panties?

The way you crashed into him made him believe that all of those times you would stare at him in the bar with far away eyes, there was something filthy swimming around behind them but he was just to blind to see it. 

It pained him to think that he had nearly let you go home in this condition.

You had a good poker face, even after getting a little drunk. He commended you for that but it fired him up thinking of all the other times this might have happened right under his nose while he had no clue. 

He traced your slippery folds, dipping a pad into your entrance but never fully slipping inside. He didn’t care how much you whined for it.

—

The lewd schloping of Nishikiyama’s fingers playing around in your slick filled the air beneath your heavy breaths. He glided along your heat with a feather light touch and you ached for him to apply more pressure. Each time you attempted to roll into him to help yourself against his touch, he eased up. 

He was taunting you. 

Teasing you. 

Your nails bit into the foam on the door’s armrest as you let out a frustrated groan.

He leaned over the middle console enough to wrap his free arm around your back, nestling his face in the slope of your neck while he kissed his way up to your ear. With just a sliver of his fingerpad against your slit, you could feel your muscles pathetically contracting– begging for something, anything to fill you. 

“Not very satisfying, is it?” he whispered, tonguing the shell of your ear.

The bastard– he knew what he was doing? 

Of course he knew what he was doing. You might have made the first move but you were at his mercy now, like a fly caught in a spider’s web.

You shook your head.

“No?” he sang quietly against your earlobe. “Hmm, then, how should I take care of you?”

He broke away from the attention he was giving your ear to look you in the eye. The moon cast its gracious light on a man with the face of an angel but he wore the smile of a demon. If you have fought against your whining you might have been stunned into silence.

“Nothing?” he teased, now pinching your chin with his free hand as he lingered dangerously close to your face. “C’mon, you didn’t get this wet by being a good girl. Talk to me. Tell me what you need.”

You tried to lunge forward and capture his pillowy lips in another kiss, an attempt to physically communicate how badly you needed him but he dipped back, evading you then smirked at your desperation.

“Ah, ah.” he tsked, fingers circling your opening. “I want you to say it, babe.”

“Ugh.” you rolled your eyes and sighed, “Please, Nishikiyama-san. I need more.”

“Hmm~ more?” he cooed, “More of what? Pressure?”

He slid his fingers along your folds with added force, avoiding your clitoris. Still, the sensation was far more gratifying than what he had been doing before and you're sure your cries told him that. He tilted his head back as he lifted yours, looking down his nose at you while he studied your expressions with a gaping mouth.

“Mm, better, huh?” 

You nodded.

“But is that enough to get you off?” he asked, that wicked grin spreading across his lips once more.

It wasn’t. 

He knew that it wasn’t. 

Nishikiyama, the bastard. 

The devil.

You rolled into his hand and once again, he lightly pulled away. 

“It’s not, huh?”

“No, please!” you cried. “I need them inside me.”

“That’s more like it.”

He slid his middle fingers along your pussy once again, gathering up more of your slick. This time he lazily rolled over your clit before making his way back down to your eagerly awaiting hole. 

“I guess I have been kinda cruel, huh? After all, it’s not like I can just send a pretty girl home like this.” he said, then pressed both fingers inside you to the knuckle. 

“Ah!”

“It’s bad form.”

You could feel the relief washing over your features as his fingers reached deep within you, stretching you out. He smiled before finally pulling you in for a kiss, sucking and nibbling at your lips as he slowly dragged from knuckle to tip and tip to knuckle over and over again. Your moans tumbled into his mouth. 

He barely gave you a chance to breathe. 

His fingers reached into a part of you that you often struggled to reach on your own. You snatched at his shirt, not knowing if you wanted him to back off of you or come closer. You couldn’t keep up. 

Your mind was in a haze.

Nishikiyama angled his fingers inside of you and the movement that followed made you jolt.

“Oh, my fucking–”

“Mmhm, theeeeeere she is. Nice and honest. I like that.” he whispered, “I’ve found your spot, haven’t I?”

You sank your nails into his forearm as he hastened the pace of his fingers, “Yes!”

You were on fire. 

You felt like you were going to combust. 

You didn’t know if it was due to the heat building up inside of the car or because of the heat building up inside of you. This was all so overwhelming but exciting and equally as confusing.

There you were, legs trembling apart further and further by the second. Your body was shaking in the passenger seat of none other than Akira Nishikiyama’s car, in the still of the night just feet away from your apartment. The transition from not knowing whether or not the man even found you attractive to having him knuckle deep inside you was one that you would ruminate on for ages. 

Truly, how did you even get here?

Did you not hear yourself explaining to him the horrible shit you had to deal with simply because people thought this was happening all along? Now that you really had messed around with him, you couldn’t imagine what people would say if they found out. 

Right as you felt your mind slipping, the silk ribbon that had been tied so tightly inside of you slowly began to unravel itself. 

Loop by loop. 

“Hey,” he whispered against your neck as you tossed your head back. “How about you hop in the backseat with me and let me really take care of you, hm?”

If you crawled into that backseat there would be no turning back. No more ‘nothing has ever happened’ between the two of you. Reality was beginning to set it. The moment you started to consider if perhaps you might regret this, you thought maybe you should quit now while you were ahead. But as Nishikiyama’s fingers tapped against that spot inside of you as if he was sending you a message in morse code, you knew that you were fighting a losing battle.

“Yes,” you gasped, a pleasure current surging through your body. “Yes, yes! Oh, fuck! I’m c– Nishik–”

—

As beautiful as you sounded in a frenzied state, shouting his name while your pussy snugly contracted around his digits, he couldn’t have you drawing any undue attention and cutting your little party short. He did his best to silence you with another kiss, at the very least allow you to pour sobs into him. 

He wasn’t going to stop thrusting his fingers inside of you until your convulsing body settled calmly back into its seat. Until then, his job was not yet done and he was rewarded for that diligence by you arching off of your seat once more and the feeling of his hand being coated in warm fluid. 

You squirted for him. 

Oh, now you were just begging him to lose his shit. 

He felt himself spilling drool against your mouth and he couldn’t help it. He was thrilled. Finally, he would get to satisfy his craving. He was absolutely certain you would satiate his palate. 

He’s dreamt of this. 

Once you calmed down, he slowed his plunging fingers, slipping them out and broke away from your lips. 

You sat there, panting– eyes fluttering in a daze as you looked around the car. 

At the foggy windows. 

At him. 

His sweet _____ was a disheveled marvel after she came, he thought, taking you in. 

A pretty little wreck and all because of him.

Absolutely stunning.

He wondered just how many people you allowed to see this side of you then felt heat rising. Much different to the heat of passion and desire he felt just a moment ago. 

No, this was different.

Suddenly he had this desire to protect this image of you, lock it away so no other could see what he witnessed tonight. To think you had the audacity to be with anyone before him– to think you had not waited for him to come for you and show you a pleasure you might have never known possible.

He had to make sure you knew better by the time this was over with. Akira wouldn’t let you leave until you knew that no one else would make you feel the way he could. He had to hypnotize you so that the only man you would ever want would be himself. 

“Come back to me, babe.” he said, snapping you out of your euphoric daze. “Climb on back. I’ve got you.”

“Oh, okay.”

Nishiki didn’t waste too much time joining you in the back once he pushed both seats up to capacity, ensuring the most space possible. While kissing you passionately, he helped you out of your jacket and dress then took a moment to hang them up with his coat. When he returned to you, he recaptured your lips with the same fervor as before as he wrapped his arms around you, guiding you back until your skin kissed the cool leather. 

“Comfy?” he asked, nibbling at your jawline as he hovered over you, dark silk strands tickling your face.

You nodded.

His heart was pounding in his chest. His fingers felt like they could cramp just from the anticipation as he settled himself between your legs. He knelt onto the floor behind the driver’s seat, it was a little snug but nothing could keep him from his mission right now. He stretched your legs out as far as they could go, caressing them with his gentle hands as he slipped them beneath your ass to finally remove the barrier that had been keeping him apart from the place he was most eager to meet. 

The moon cast its spotlight right on your beautiful body, confirming what he had already known to be true. You were just as breathtaking out of clothes as you were in them, if not more so. This was your most natural state after all and here you were baring it all for him. He couldn’t have been more grateful to bear witness to this sight.

“Ohh, fuck, _____.” he said, his voice deep, reverberating off the windows as he slipped his balmy hands beneath your thighs until he’d hooked them under your knees to pry your legs open further. 

His cock was leaking in his pants, absolutely sobbing with need at the sight of your glossy folds. 

You were perfect. 

Dangerously so. 

You were the incarnation of sin. Your pussy was the forbidden fruit and nothing in this universe could stop Akira from having a taste of it. 

He wanted to say something reassuring to you– ask you if you were ready for him but he was lost in tunnel vision and couldn’t contain his drool to his mouth. All he could think about was putting an end to the mystery: what did _____ taste like? 

He couldn’t help the obscene moan that came out of him when he dragged his flattened tongue along your pussy.

Fucking exquisite, mind-alteringly so. 

He knew you could never disappoint him. He wrapped his hands around your thighs and gave you a squeeze at the thought. 

Speaking of disappointment, he knew that he had big shoes to fill tonight. All those blabbing girls who never learned not to kiss and tell had filled your head with who knows how many lovely little fantasies. 

He never went into these things caring about protecting an arbitrary reputation. Nishiki enjoyed performing oral on women. He sometimes preferred it to penetrative sex– diving between the legs of beautiful women, tasting their most intimate of places, hearing the lovely sounds they made as they came undone by him, it gave him a high more potent than any drug. 

Even so, the skill came from practice rather than a desire to push himself for the sake of any one partner. 

Tonight though, he was in competition with himself. He had to outdo whatever you thought possible of him. He wouldn’t pry himself away until your brain turned to mush or you were practically begging him to stop– whichever came first.

—

Nishikiyama’s languid figure 8s sent shockwaves through your already spent body. He fought against your thighs, threatening to tighten around his head by digging his fingers into the meat and keeping them pried open. 

For all of the prior neglect of your clitoris, he adamantly made up for tenfold as he made out with it. Passionately sucking and licking as if apologizing to it for not showing it such affection and tenderness before. He alternated between that and darting his long tongue along your heat, shooting past one hole and damn near touching another. 

A pornographic sound would escape him after every other gesture and you had to wonder: just who exactly was receiving the pleasure here?

You were sensitive from the earlier orgasm. Your legs grew weaker with every nudge of his nose against your clit. You were more limp than the soba you were sucking down at the bar. He was devouring you, an incubus bent on taking your soul down to hell with him, one sloppy slurp at a time– and goodness was he fucking sloppy. 

Just when you thought that the silky little bow had been neatly tied back up inside of you, Nishikiyama’s dancing muscle caught itself in the strands and the only way to get him out was to unravel it once again. 

You felt that same warning from before that something electrifying was coming and you were trying to scoot away but he simply wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you closer.

“Nuh-uh, babe.” he said, the words were in his throat and they vibrated against your pussy. “Don’t run from it.”

His grip was tight when he punched the point of his tongue past your slit, burying his face even deeper into your warmth. He was reminding you once again that you were but meager prey trapped in his web. The more you thrashed around, the more you got caught– the worse you made things for yourself.

You brushed his hair back from his face and the sticky mess that glistened over it. He was so pretty there between your legs, long eyelashes fluttering over high cheekbones as he rolled his eyes to the back of his head. It was as if he found his own taste of euphoria in your hole. He rocked your body into him, forcing you to fuck yourself on his tongue.

This was too much. 

It was all too fucking much.

You nearly screamed when you threw your head back into the seat.

He pulled off of you with a kiss and panted, “You’re so fucking hot, babe. You’re about to cum again already?”

“I am.”

Nishikiyama let out a clipped huff before frantically working at the buttons of his shirt. 

Tossed, then forgotten. 

The buckle of his belt and then the fasteners of his pants quickly followed. 

“_____.” he whispered, “You’re gonna make me cum too at this rate. How about we cum together?”

“Okay.” you nodded, spreading your legs wider, offering yourself on a silver platter for him to take however he would like. 

You didn’t care. 

You would deal with tomorrow, tomorrow.

You watched him frantically pull his dick out his pants, you couldn’t see much with him kneeling in front of the seat but you did make out a curve that you could just taste. You were certain it would feel glorious knocking against that same spot he hit within you just a bit earlier. 

You expected him to climb onto the seat with you, line himself up at your entrance and rock the car as he pounded you. Instead though, he spit in his hand before wrapping his fingers around his cock with a soft gasp then leaning back in return to his sloppy kisses and tongue fucking. 

—

Nishiki wanted so badly to time his peak with yours but the slightest sound you made made his dick twitch with the threat of shooting his load all over himself. In any other circumstance, the idea of getting cum stains stuck in his carpet or on his leather sounded like more of a pain than it was worth but hell, he planned on getting a detail soon anyway. 

Why not get his money’s worth?

He had to stop touching himself more times than he could count. He didn’t put in all this work just to cum before you. He needed you back on brink, just teering over the edge like you were a moment ago. 

He wrapped both arms around you again, now reveling in the feeling of your warm skin against his. He inhaled you in though he pressed his face so far against you that he was nearly suffocating himself. He seesawed between assaulting your sopping passage with his incisive muscle as he’d done before or swiping at your hard clit. 

“Mm, shit, Nishikiyama-san!” you cried, grabbing at his hair, in what seemed to be a greedy attempt to pull him closer but he was already as close he could be. He couldn’t help but chuckle against you and allow you to guide him where you needed him most.

“Hm, you getting close again for me?” he managed between kisses.

You let out a whine of affirmation and his right hand immediately wrapped itself back around his twitching dick. 

When he looked up at you, you were grabbing a tit with one hand and biting into the palm of another trying desperately to silence yourself but you were doing a pathetic job at it, which meant that he was doing his well. Watching you toss your head back and all but introduce him to your neighbors with the way you nearly shouted his name was enough to bring him there ten times over. 

This night was one for the memory bank for sure.

“Come for me, babe. I’m right there with you.” he whispered before sucking at your clit. 

“Fuck!”

He could hear your toes cracking behind him, your thighs were closing around his head and there was a sting at his scalp from the way you pulled at his hair. He matched the stroke of his member with the rock of your body against his face and finally…

Finally…

He tried his best to keep working you over with his tongue but a euphoria worked its way through him that made every muscle in his body fall listless as he panted and sobbed and moaned against your pussy. Warm streams of semen had shot their way up his chest, against the back of your legs and he was too lost in nirvana to care how much had found its way onto the seat and floor. 

Finally, Akira Nishikiyama had gotten a taste of his favorite girl in town and for once, he was the one left with mush for a brain.

He let out a long trembling sigh, savoring the pleasure like rolling a fine wine over the palate and then he crawled up to nestle himself between your legs. He hoped you didn’t mind the mess. He’d clean you up in a moment but now, he had to have one final taste of you. 

Nishiki swiped the sweat from your upper lip with his thumb, smiling at how cute your spent face was. He pinched your chin and tilted your gaze to meet his then pulled you into a long, languid kiss.

“Guess it’s not a rumor anymore, is it?”

By the time you stepped into your post-shift shower, the decision was already made. You put on the performance of mulling it over to an audience of you alone while massaging your favorite creams and oils into your skin. Once you pressed out the folds in the comfy, jersey knit dress that you packed into your work bag that afternoon, gave yourself a final once-over in the oversized mirror then slinked out of the back door, your one woman show had successfully concluded.

Your race to the curb of Senryo Avenue was slowed by the crowd. The moment your eyes locked onto a free taxi, you dug into your bulky crossbody for the business card and folded yen that he squeezed into your hand with a pat and a wink just before parting ways. 

“Your cab fare for the night.” he told you, pink lips gently curved upward. “Either to get home from work or to go have a couple of drinks on me.”

A doting couple seemed to have their sights on the same ride as you but they were a little too enthralled in their sweet PDA to join the challenge. You hurried to the open taxi and all but threw yourself into it, banging your head against the exterior along the way.

That… may leave a mark. Why did you forget to duck?

“Ah,” the driver sucked air through his teeth, “Please do be careful, Miss.”

“R-right,.” you sighed, grimacing as you rubbed at your forehead. You wondered if you would wind up at the bar talking to Nishikiyama with a giant, cartoonish knot at the center of your forehead. Was the thump your sign to turn tail and go straight home? After all, if he saw you like that, you might’ve just lost your highest paying customer! Right?

Right?

“Where are we headed this evening?”

Without even a second of hesitation, your arm extended toward the driver so that you could hand him the business card. 

Dammit. Betrayed by your own reflexes.

“This address, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, of course.”

The driver passed the card back to you shortly and you began tracing its thick edges with your thumbs. Originally, you looked out of the window to admire the awe-inspiring grit of the city but eventually your mind began to wander. 

Just what were you doing going out to meet a customer? This one, especially. You usually declined offers to meet after hours. Sure, he had been nice enough but if anyone happened to see the two of you out together, the treatment you were receiving at work was sure to get worse. Just the thought was enough to make your stomach flip with anxiety. 

That was, until you thought about the feeling of his big, warm hand above yours when he gave you cab fare tonight and how could you forget that damned smile? 

You weren’t kookoo over him like the others were. 

No, but not even you could deny how attractive the man was… Not enough to make you lose sight of yourself or anything. Of course not but well, you did have eyes. 

That thought reminded you of your state of dress. You had only packed an outfit that was comfortable enough to wear on your commute back home, certainly nothing to wear on a night out on the town, especially not next to him. When he was at the club, he’d been wearing a maroon suit with a patterned black and gold shirt and a silver pendant. He was gorgeous. You supposed he always was. 

You saw the way the girls dressed up to go bar hopping. You could understand why he would have been drawn to any one of them– they fit, tonight you were just… 

It wasn’t as if this was a date or anything but you thought that any reasonable person would be concerned about how they would be perceived. You worried you would stick out like a sore thumb if you got too close.

“Miss? Miss?” the driver said firmly, snapping you out of your daze.

“Huh?”

“It would seem that we have arrived.” he chuckled awkwardly.

“Oh,” you nodded, unfolding then counting the notes. “So we have. Thank you so much, sir.”

“No problem at all.”

You handed him the cash and quickly exited the cab, this time being mindful of your head. Fighting with the strap of your bag, you almost couldn’t believe your eyes. The bar was on this side of town? You read the Ginza address on the card and you weren’t even sure what you expected but you knew you didn’t picture him inviting you here!

People passed your stiff daze dressed in vibrant, stunning clothing, many of them still holding large, luxury brand shopping bags at their sides as they chatted amongst themselves. They must have been at this for hours. You were right, you weren’t at all dressed for the occasion if these strangers were anything to go by. 

The sidewalk was clean, garbage cans beneath every tall zelkova tree wrapped in lights that lined the curb. The buildings were neat brick and stone and glass almost completely bare of gaudy posters advertising seedy back alley shops, just tidy little sandwich boards here and there. 

Even the barkers were different, meeker. 

It was like a different world compared to the ever classy Kamurocho.

You read the column of business signs on the midrise building before you until you spotted the name that matched the one on the business card. According to the sign, the bar was situated somewhere on the first floor. You nodded to yourself and slid the card back inside of your purse then started toward the building.

The closer you got to the frosted door though, you felt a heaviness in your legs and when your fingers wrapped around that gilded handle, you couldn’t even bring yourself to pull. Your arm instead went limp and suddenly the hustle and bustle of the city behind you was drowned out by the beat of your heart. You felt the muscles in your face contort, those in your forehead working the hardest with deep brow furrows. 

Oh? 

You were nervous. 

But how could you be nervous?

“It’s only Nishikiyama-san,” you mumbled to yourself. “What the hell is wrong with me?” 

It was your job to drink with him. You didn’t want to be arrogant but one must remind themselves that the man paid for your time. It might have been after hours but this was no different than what you had done mere hours ago. It was just a couple of drinks! How bad could it be?

You would drink. Chat. Go home.

Was there really any reason to be noodle-armed and lead-legged outside in the cold? Worst case scenario, he had invited you there to see if he could convince you to work at a club he’s got dealings with or something. He never gave you the poacher-vibe before but you couldn’t be too careful. It wasn’t uncommon for his type to pull stunts like that with hostesses. 

You’d drink. Say no. Go home.

Releasing one, long stuttering breath, you straightened your posture then found the strength to pull the weighty door. You navigate your way through the ornate ground level of the building until you could find a directory to point you in the direction of the bar. You had the option of stairs or an elevator but you opted for the stairs simply to prolong the amount of time it took to get you there.

At the top of the stairs, you spotted the bar in the middle of the corridor thanks to the sign that hung above it. Hitonomi written elegantly in black kanji through the stem of a gold-lit martini glass.

You could feel the lead in your legs returning but you persisted until you reached the manual sliding door. Affording yourself one more deep breath, you slid the door quietly and slipped inside. 

Funky jazz tunes greeted you, easing you into the mellow atmosphere. Two tall, vivid money trees framed the white frosted door and on the wall just ahead of you was an oversized painting of a silhouette of what could have been a woman looking down at something, but you couldn’t be sure. There was a metal abstract divider acting as a partition to separate the gap between the entrance and the main dining room. You continued along the deep red carpet, noting its subtle diamond pattern until you passed the divider.

You could see why someone like Nishikiyama would find this a nice place to unwind. At this location, it fit the bill for the luxurious outing that he seems to pride himself on being able to afford but it was still modest enough to fly under the radar– perhaps it didn’t exactly catch the attention of the types that went to places for the sake of being able to say that they’ve been… People like Nishikiyama himself. 

It had a warmth about it that wasn’t the slightest bit intimidating. It was quite cozy in fact. Perhaps even a bit more intimate than what you imagined on your way here, what with the tight seating and dim lighting. 

The bar was just to the left of the entrance and you spotted him there in an instant. 

Nishikiyama was dead center, smoking one of his usual Cabins as he stared up at the bartender with the same parted-lipped, amused expression he gave you when you were in the middle of an anecdote. Smoke was forced out of his nose as he blew a raspberry in what seemed like an attempt to stifle laughter. Then, he tossed back his head, hair flying back with him as he laughed heartily before pointing his smoking hand at the bartender and chuckling out something that you couldn’t make out with the distance.

His maroon coat had been hanging behind him on the royal blue bucket barstool and he had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbows. He brushed his hair back from his face, allowing more of his side profile.

He really was so–

“I don’t recall seeing you around here before.” the bartender’s gruff voice said, interrupting your thoughts and you’re grateful that he had.

Nishikiyama had been about to take a sip of whatever was in his rocks glass as his delayed reaction turned his attention to you but once he spotted you, he lowered the glass and smiled. It seemed as if his eyes had a bit of a twinkle in them when he noticed you, much different from the look he often gave you at the club.

He rested his chin on his fist. “She’s with me.”

A flurry of microexpressions that you couldn’t quite read crossed the other man’s face, “Of course. Well, welcome, Miss…” he trailed off.

You and Nishikiyama answered him with your name in unison which for some reason made the man chuckle as he looked at the other. Then, returned his attention to you.

“_____-san, then? What’ll you have this evening?”

Nishikiyama looked at you, his expression one of geniality as he placed a menu in your hand. “Whatever you want, okay? Don’t be shy. It’s my treat.”

You skimmed the menu. 

You hoped it was his treat! 

The prices at this place were nothing to sneeze at. You felt duped by the atmosphere– there was nothing inviting about the potential tab! If you didn’t regularly run his pockets you might have questioned if he could actually afford casually drinking at a place like this or if it was simply posturing to impress you. 

But… Why would he want to do that anyway?

You ordered your usual drink of choice. Depending on how the night went, you might venture out and try one of the signature cocktails later. 

“Of course. Just a moment.” the bartender said with a bow.

“C’mon, get comfy. Or do you see somewhere else you wanna sit?” Nishikiyama turned to face the fairly empty bar before shifting his attention to you, “Want some privacy?”

You were used to being out in the middle of a mostly packed room, in the light where everyone could see you. It wasn’t as if you were afraid of him or anything but somehow, sitting in one of those darker corners made you nervous beyond belief. It made you feel as though this would turn into something you weren’t prepared for it to be.

Privacy felt intimidating.

You shook your head. “I’ll just join you here at the bar.”

“Suit yourself.” he said as he slid himself off of the bar stool with a soft grunt.

“Left or right?”

“Huh?”

He stood in front of you as he gestured with his thumbs. “Which side do you want to sit on?”

Has he always been that tall? More importantly, he smelled good at the club but why did he seem to smell even better now? You shook the thoughts from your mind and frowned. 

“Oh, I don’t know! You pick.”

He smiled as he pressed his palm to the top of your head and used it to gently maneuver you back slightly, “Then, I’ll sit you on my good side.” he said, then slid out the seat to the left of his. 

The bartender sat your drink at your newly assigned seat then Nishikiyama waited until you sat down so that he could push you in before returning to his own. 

Cheers!

“So, you think the left is your good side?” you asked, lightly swirling your drink in its glass. “I would have thought someone like you would believe all your sides are good.”

“I can’t tell if you’re complimenting me or calling me a cocky dick.” he chuckled, finally taking a sip of his drink. 

“Mmm,” you hummed, “I’m just saying that, having sat on both sides of you, I don't think you have a bad side.”

He folded his arms on the bar then stuck his neck out to you so that only you could hear what he was saying, “Listen, _____, I know you’ve heard a lot of stuff about me but let’s get one thing clear: I am not easy. Alright?”

You could feel horror twist your face. Did he really? Was he? Did?

“What?” 

“Butter me up all you want, but you’re not getting into my pants.” 

Your entire body had begun to heat up from bottom to top. You could feel it radiating off your ears even. “I never– I don’t want to get into your pants!” you nearly shouted, drawing the attention of the bartender, who did an awful impression of a guy who hadn’t heard anything when he clearly did.

“That so?” Nishikiyama wiggled his eyebrows and smiled, “Say it louder so the people in the bar across the way can hear it too.”

The realization crashed down on you like a tsunami, you already began to sweat. “Oh, you were joking.”

He scoffed as he placed his cigarette back in his mouth, “Of course I was joking. Don’t make it so easy for me to tease you. I won't let up so quickly next time.”

You let out a heavy breath. “You scared me! I really thought you thought I was coming onto you or something.”

He stared at the bar then mumbled, “Would that be such a bad thing?”

He didn’t look directly at you when he said it so you couldn’t read his expression, nor could you decode his tone but you assumed it must have been another one of his jokes. He told you not to make it so easy. So, you decided to not take it seriously. Instead, you brought your hand to your mouth and laughed a bit as you swung your foot at his under the bar.

“What are you saying, Nishikiyama-san?”

He blew a breath out of his nose and there was a tiny curl to his lips before he tossed back the last of his liquor. 

“Hey man, I think I’m good on these.” he spoke abruptly to the bartender. “It’s definitely a good cocktail.”

The other man wiped his hand on a towel before taking his empty glass. “But is it good enough for the menu?”

“I’d say it is.” he said. “Maybe make it a little stronger though and add a dry vermouth or something?”

“Ah… vermouth. Okay, just one more. Last one, then I’ll give you your bottle..” the bartender said, rubbing his hands together.

Nishikiyama groaned, laying his head onto his forearms. “You said that last time!”

“Quit your whining! It’s free booze!”

“Who cares if it’s free! Let me drink what I came for, dammit!” He turned to you with a slightly pouty expression, you never saw him look like this before but it sort of stunned you that he could make such cute faces. “The guy forces me to be his taste test dummy every time I stop by and he holds my keep bottle hostage.”

“You have a keep bottle?” you asked.

“Of course I do.” he said. “You’d never know it with the way this guy acts though.”

You laughed. “You’re really giving him a hard time.”

“Ahh, he’ll be fine.” he said, plucking away his cigarette ashes. “We’re usually worse than this but….”

“Oh?” you sipped your drink. “Well, don’t let me stop you from having fun.”

“Who said you were stopping anything? The night is young.” he asked, leaning back onto his chair as he traced his lip with his propped hand. “If anything, I would say the same to you. Loosen up a little. I thought getting you out of that damn club would help you relax but if anything, you seem more tense.”

“I do?”

“Work’s been stressing you out these days, hasn’t it?” he asked, giving the bartender an acknowledging nod when he heard him place a new glass beside him. 

His chocolate eyes scanned your face as if he had been searching for something before finally settling on yours. As lovely as the rest of him was, there was something about the way he looked at you that always made you feel a tad uneasy. It wasn’t as if you disliked it, on the contrary, you just found it difficult to maintain eye contact for very long. If there was one thing you could say about Akira Nishikiyama, when you had his undivided attention, he made it known. 

Anyone would feel as if they’re under threat of melting and losing their composure. Right?

Right?

Your brows tightened at the thought, and the feeling, “Is it really that obvious?”

He brushed his knuckles gently against the sleeve of your jacket and feigned offense, “C’mon! I know you try your best to play it up and all, but no matter how good you are at your job, there’s bound to be someone there that’s paying enough attention to spot the cracks.” 

“And that someone is you?” 

“Of course!” He smiled a big, goofy grin before taking a sip of his drink and nodding at the bartender. “This one’s the winner.”

“You’re not just saying that?” he asked, hopefulness in his voice.

Nishikiyama scoffed, “Since when was I the type to spare your feelings?”

“Dammit, you’re right.” The man’s face lit up as he whipped out his notepad and walked through the door behind the bar.

You traced your finger around the rim of your glass absentmindedly until you heard him snap his fingers at you. “Back to me, princess.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve gotta know though,” he asked. “What’s got the best hostess in town bogged down?”

Taking in a long, sharp breath, you thought about what could have possibly given him any indication that something may have been wrong with you. Had you not been doing your job properly?

“What makes you think anything has me ‘bogged down’?” you asked.

“Plenty of things.”

“Like?”

“When certain girls sit in our section, you seem like you tone yourself down– like you’re trying not to upstage them or something.” 

He was right. “That’s silly.”

“You’re tense as hell when you’re next to me but you’re limp as a noodle next to any other man in my party.” he said, studying your face then his lips curled into a smile. “Which means, either one: there’s something going on backstage where I’m concerned or, two: you’ve fallen for me.”

He was… partially correct. “Alright,” you laughed. “Let's not get ahead of ourselves.”

Nishikiyama’s smile melted into something more serious as he placed his hand on the back of your chair and turned you so that you had no choice but to face him.

“But, I think the thing that bothered me the most– what made me invite you out tonight so that I could get to the bottom of it, is that your eyes aren’t shining the same.” 

He was so close to you as he looked into your eyes as if he was checking one final time to confirm his suspicions and while he did that, you lost yourself in him. You could see every pore, line and bit of stubble coming in. You should have been upset by this closeness, frustrated that he was in your bubble. 

Instead, you were fascinated that he had been watching you so closely for who knows how long when all you thought you were to him was the girl that poured his drinks and talked to him while he was bored. You wondered if any other customers saw you like this or if this was all him. Before you could even finish that thought, you wondered if you even cared if other customers saw you like this. Part of you wanted it to be unique to him…

“Huh…” he huffed, then flashed those pearly whites. “Cat got your tongue?”

You blinked out of your daze and shook your head, “Sorry, I’m just a little surprised you pay that much attention to your hostesses.”

“I don’t.” he said, finally settling back into his seat to take a drink of his whiskey. “I pay attention to you.”

What the hell? 

Your heart skipped a beat– None of your customers have ever made your heart skip a beat. You didn’t allow it. You kept each of your customers at an arm's length specifically so that they couldn’t get too close but even doing that couldn’t keep Nishikiyama from seeing through you. 

And why would he even care to see through you?

“Me?” was all that you could really manage.

He nodded, “So, again, I ask... What’s the problem?” 

You fixated on one of the candles lining the wooden bartop as you contemplated what to say next. 

You were conflicted. He pretty much hit the nail on the head, but he was still your customer. So, you weren’t quite sure how wise it would be to open up. Sure, he noticed a couple of things but his impression of you and your club was what kept the lights on. 

He was no small spender. 

Losing his patronage could prove detrimental… But, it was perhaps for that reason that you considered if maybe honesty was indeed the best policy. 

After all, he noticed all those things even when you had been trying your best to hide it. Maybe if it continued on like this, he would decide to go for someone else that could better keep it together. You winced when you felt the pang in your chest brought on by that thought.

While this entire situation brought on a bunch of undue, (unspoken) ire, you knew in reality that it was misplaced. You were simply frustrated and though it was his fault, it wasn’t his fault. Deep down you wondered, if you lost him as a patron, wouldn’t you have actually been devastated?

Current events aside, the truth was, Nishikiyama was one of your favorites– even after you closed your eyes and removed his bottomless wallet. 

But you weren’t allowed to admit that– Policy and all.

“Hmm?” he hummed, tapping his pointer finger on the bar in your line of vision. 

When you glanced at him, he tilted his concerned face at you. It was hard to conjure up a lie when he watched you like that. You wound your shoulders and silently prayed to whomever may be listening that opening your mouth wouldn’t backfire.

“So, uh, do you remember earlier…when I mentioned that there are rumors going around about you?” you asked, thumbs playing in the condensation on your glass.

He nodded, a ghost of a smirk kissing his lips. 

“Well,” you sighed. “I’m… also, included in the mix.”

“How do you mean?”

You frowned, not sure if he was messing with you or if he genuinely needed you to spell it out for him but his face betrayed nothing. 

“People are thinking that you and I have hooked up, Nishikiyama-san.” you said bluntly.

Nishikiyama was silent for a while, his eyes bouncing between yours before he inhaled sharply and then went for his drink. Still, his expression told you nothing.

You weren’t quite sure what to do with that. So, you stopped looking to him for indicators on whether what you were saying was okay or not and just kept talking hoping that maybe he would stop you if he didn’t like what he was hearing.

“I’ve denied it, of course.” you clarified, “I didn’t want people getting the wrong impression of you– or me, but… It doesn’t really seem to matter what I say because they all prefer sensationalism and getting good gossip out of it rather than the actual truth… At first, they were just whispering about it like, ‘Oh, do you think they–’ but then, the more you showed up and the more you requested me, they took that as their proof that we had. That’s when they started telling me about you. I guess thinking that it would upset me or get me to crack but, I don’t care what you do in your personal life.”

He seemed to have flinched a bit at your final sentence but still he didn’t say anything. Instead, he finished up the last of his cocktail. 

“I-I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

Nishikiyama smiled a barely there smile at you then waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Go on. Let it out.”

“Oh, uh, just that…” you sort of forgot what you said last.

He seemed to be able to tell.

“They tried to get you to crack…” he said, pushing his empty glass away from him then reclined back into the blue chair.

“Right, and I suppose that since I never came out with a story of my own to satisfy their lust for gossip, they started to assume I was lying. The cattiness has always been there– It’s a part of the culture but… Then, they just got mean.”

“Mean?”

“Yeah, childish stuff too. Like, notes in my locker, writing stuff on my mirror between customers so I’d see it when I got back, hiding my clothes after shift showers. That sort of thing.”

Nishikiyama had gone from being totally unreadable to mildly upset to something resembling guilt. 

“All of that over some fucking rumors that they started?” 

You smiled sheepishly as you nudged him with your fist, “What can I say, you’re a popular guy.”

He shook his head while pinching the bridge of his nose and released a long shaky sigh. Nothing but the jazz from the speakers behind you filled the gap. He tilted his head back, running both his hands through his voluminous hair as he stared up at the pendant lights hanging from the ceiling. 

He seemed stressed. 

Should you not have told him?

“You know,” he began. “____, when I saw that you were worn out in the beginning, I hoped that it was a money issue. So, I started spending even more than I needed to, just to make sure you were covered. Even if I didn’t touch half the shit they brought to our table. I thought I was helping you… But to think that all this time, I’ve been the reason for your trouble all along–”

“You’re not.”

“I am, though. I am.” he said, his gaze went so deep you felt as if he was peering into your soul. “Listen, I’m… I’m sorry about all of that. If I had known that all of that was happening, I would’ve just stayed away from the damn club.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted that!” you said, reaching for his wrist. “I love it when you come around and I’m not just saying that… I’m off the clock, so.”

He chuckled, “And I lo– I enjoy your company, you know? But not at that cost.”

You sighed, it felt good getting it all off of your chest but it brought you no joy that he blamed himself for any of this. After all, he never cut your bra with scissors and left the pieces in a toilet for you to find later. His only crime was that he had been too sought after for his own good– that and well, perhaps, whatever it is he truly does for a living but that’s a different conversation. 

“So, where do we go from here?” he asked. 

You shrugged, “I’m not sure. I’ve been flirting with the idea of leaving and going to a new club.”

He hummed, placing a cigarette in his mouth. You grabbed his lighter from the bar and he leaned toward you so that you could light it for him.

“Alright,” he exhaled. “We’ll go to a new club, then.”

“We?” you laughed.

Nishikiyama beamed, “What? You didn’t think I was just going to lose out on a drinking buddy over this, did you?”

“What was all that about ‘staying away from the club’?”

“Yeah, that club!” he said. “If you go somewhere else, you’re starting out on a clean slate!”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “And what happens when I start there and you show up and find that you’ve hooked up with 10 of those girls?”

“Oi, oi. Just who do you think I am anyway?” he said with a faux shocked expression.

“You’re going to get me bullied out of every hostess gig in Kamurocho at this rate, Nishikiyama-san.” 

“You’re going a little insane with this hypothetical situation, ____.” he teased. “But, alright, fine. Then, what’s the alternative? Say I don’t come to the club anymore–”

“Why do you keep suggesting that?”

He held up his finger at you. “And I don’t follow you to whatever new club you end up at, are you saying that that’s it? I won’t be drinking with you anymore?”

He seemed to be so fixated on that. 

“We’re drinking together right now, aren’t we?” you smiled. “We’re not bound to any club.”

The corners of his eyes lifted, and there was a very subtle scrunch just below the bridge of his nose as his pink lips curled. There was something so tender about his expression and you weren’t sure if it was the drink you’d nearly finished or if he worked some weird magic on you that made parts of you flutter.

“Then, I guess we shouldn’t let the night go to waste,”  he said.

“The night is young.”

There were names that one became familiar with after spending time in the Kamurocho nightlife scene. There were the names of those to watch out for- bad news, dangerous, some of the last people in town you’d want to cross paths with. There were those who were known for simply throwing their weight around- flashing their cash, accompanied by muscle, having a hissy fit whenever they didn’t quite get their way. There were also the names of the guy or gal you went to when you really needed to know something or to have something done. Or perhaps they just had a bit of a… reputation– word got around about them. 

Depending on who you spoke to in town, Akira Nishikiyama could have fit into any one of those categories.

You never saw much of his violent side but you knew perfectly well that he was capable of it. He offered a hand to security once when a customer got a tad too “friendly” with you. He never quite threw a tantrum but he wasn’t above spilling a wad of cash on the podium to get ahead of the line when there was a wait. However, there was one thing you couldn’t deny without a shadow of a doubt: Nishikiyama had quite the reputation.

He wasn’t the most popular with men from what you could tell. Even the men he’d come into the club with seemed to give him a hard time. Sometimes he took it in stride. Other times, through his sharp glare you could see the silent promise of a brawl before the night was over.

The women, however, fell over themselves to get to him. 

You couldn’t say that you didn’t see the appeal. He was handsome– beyond handsome, sometimes when you sat with him, watched him lower his defenses enough to smile and laugh, he was quite beautiful even. His hair had more volume than some of the girls in the dressing room. He was no slouch. Every single one of his suits were designer– you didn’t know which designers but after being in the business for long enough, you could tell the difference between a tailored, brand name suit and a shoddy, discount shop suit trying to pass itself off as one. 

There was never even a speck of dirt on his shiny leather shoes. 

And he always smelled absolutely divine-- Fresh. Woody. Something, something, sensual masculinity. You didn’t know the right words but it alone was captivating. Even you could find yourself lost in that aroma and unconsciously bow over hoping for more.

There was a draw to him.

However, it wasn’t just his good looks that had the girls swarming him like flies to honey. He had charm, too. It was hard to miss, especially when he routinely surrounded himself with buffoons. 

He stood out, effortlessly so.

Nishikiyama had been your regular for a year, at least. Perhaps you’d been seeing him for longer but you only decided to start paying attention to how often he would request you after your coworkers began to complain. In the beginning, his visits were infrequent-every couple months or so. Back then, he took any girl he was given but after seeing you a few times, the visits increased. 

He began to show up about once or twice a week, each time with a different ensemble of men in his entourage– familiar faces but never quite the exact same group. When he was the first to arrive, and he typically was, he requested you. He wanted no one else. It mattered none if you were busy. 

If he couldn’t bri– pay to have you reassigned from whoever you were serving, he’d take a placeholder and wait until you were available. Either way, he’d see you before the night was over.

He wasn’t the most patient about it but still, he’d wait, craning his neck around the room until you made your way over to him. It began to cause a bit of a stir in the dressing room. You did your best to ignore it at first but you were now at your wits’ end. 

There were…rumors about Akira Nishikiyama.

Many of them circulated through the dressing room then made their way out into the streets of Kamurocho and vice versa. You never inquired about them. The information simply managed to find its way to you somehow; be it an overheard conversation or someone giddily whispering over your shoulder what they’d just ‘found out’. In their minds, it was vital information. 

After all, you were allegedly Nishikiyama’s “favorite”.

Some of the rumors were silly, nothing that anyone should have concerned themselves with. Things like: A friend of a friend had given him her number and he never called her! What a jerk, right? Or, how he dated some college girl a few summers ago and suddenly broke it off. Now, she’s telling everyone that she wants him back. Whose business was that anyway? Then, there were other things you would hear that, even though you pretended not to care, it did perk your ears juuust a little. 

The rumor about the hostess who quit a couple months ago. Reasons unknown. 

Word in the dressing room was that they had a bit of a ‘thing’– a one night stand. She wouldn’t stop bringing it up whenever he showed up and requested you instead of her. Essentially, every time he showed up... You supposed it was meant to make you jealous but in reality, it only made you question why he’d go after such a bratty girl to begin with. 

You questioned his taste, sure, but, jealous? Of course not.

There was another coworker that alleged to have hooked up with him too but she only mentioned it once or twice during a drunken outing. The rest did the legwork for her. 

At the risk of making the man sound a tad promiscuous, there were quite a few different stories going around about him. All from different women. And although the stories all started differently, they typically ended the same way: Nishikiyama-kun went down on me and gave me the best orgasm of my life.

Again, you didn’t care to know these things but hearing the same conclusion time and time brought about some curiosity. You had to admit. Could he really be that good? Then, you would mentally kick yourself for it. He was your regular– you shouldn’t be entertaining such thoughts, even in absolute jest. 

One had to maintain a level of professionalism here.

His notoriety amongst the ladies and his proclivity for you, though, had begun to make work a little unbearable. Where you once fell under the radar, you were now under the spotlight– right there with Nishikiyama and his wagging tongue. The gossip went from simply being about him and various faceless women in town to being about you, specifically.

And so, you became an object of resentment and envy.

In their minds, if you had been hooking up with the man after hours, why not just come clean like the others? Besides, you were raking it in when he stopped by! That had to go against some sort of guideline, right? 

You were forced to answer to managers on multiple occasions that, no, you were not having casual sex with a customer and yes, you did understand that went against club policy. The ladies couldn’t understand why the hell he would be giving you so much attention if you weren’t selling the goods on the side. You knew deep down the managers didn’t really care because whatever you were doing brought in a hefty, steady flow of cash. They were simply posturing to keep the others happy. 

You got it from both ends and it pissed you off immensely because there wasn’t the slightest bit of truth to any of it.

In fact, the infamous “Nishikiyama-kun~” hadn’t come on to you once since he started requesting you. Things were no different with him than they were with the rest of your customers. Your coworkers should have known that, considering they had a tendency of standing around, seething and staring as you worked whenener they weren’t paired off with you. 

You were the friendly hostess– the one that customers could count on to help cheer them up after a rough day! The listening ear, the shoulder to cry on! You were the one who lifted their spirits and made them laugh! 

That was your role. 

You weren’t quite equipped to play the seductress that they were all accusing you of being. Whenever your clients had their moods lifted high enough and were leaning in for something a little more playful, or romantic in nature, you called in reinforcements.

Even so, he always seemed to go at your pace. Never once have you ever had to pass him off to someone else and it sort of begged the question: What gives? If he was such a casanova, picking up girls here and over yonder, why the hell hasn’t he ever tried anything with you? Were you not his type or something? 

It wasn’t as if you wanted him to hit on you– Gosh, anything but! 

But… 

Well, you would at least like the courtesy of shooting him down. 

After everything you had heard about the guy from the others, you thought, well, it would just be polite!

The floor manager shouted your name, startling you as you reapplied your lipstick in the mirror. 

Crimson smeared past your lip line and down your chin. You looked up at him, making cold eye contact with his reflection in the mirror. He bit back a smile as he pressed his palms together. 

“One of your regulars is here to see you,”

You cleaned the smeared lipstick, continuing to look up at him. “Alright, who is it?” But you didn’t really need to ask, you had a hunch.

“Nishikiyama-sama.” he said curtly.

“I see.” you said, fixing the neckline of your dress. “Let him know I’ll be out in a bit.”

“Of course.”

The woman at the vanity next to yours, a veteran at the club, shot you a dirty look. “‘Of course’, ugh.”

You were exhausted with the cattiness, but you tried your best to respect hierarchy, as much as it pained you. You lifted off of the stool and excuse yourself to meet your client. 

Before turning, you scanned your vanity for items previously gifted to you by him and decided to wear them instead of your current set of accessories. Instead of your emerald and gold necklace, you decided you would greet him in the pearl pendant he brought you the week prior, a spritz of the perfume from last month and the bracelet from the beginning of it all. You passed over your reflection one last time before then strutted through the velvet curtains.

— ---- --

Perhaps it was a little embarrassing to say but Nishiki felt at home whenever he came to this place. The drinks were a bit watered down and overpriced but the food wasn’t half bad. Plus, the service was phenomenal! 

He didn’t always feel that way though. In fact, it took more than a few tries to get it right. Usually, he gave up on a place when it failed to satisfy him the first time. After all, every 10 paces, there would be another hostess club with the same damn drink menu with the same damn food with the same damn tropes of women to pawn off to the men stupid enough to waste their time and money.

But not every single one of those clubs had a girl like you in it. 

To say you were cute would have been an absolute understatement, but that wasn’t what kept him coming back. 

Kamurocho was the land of beautiful women. It was the way you did your job. You suspected that he had money– he saw you size him up when you first greeted him but you never tried to upsell him on anything. If you were attracted to him, he sure as hell couldn’t tell. You never pushed yourself up on him or puffed out your chest, grabbed onto him or played in his hair– None of what he had gotten used at places like these. 

You simply filled his drink, kept him company and looked absolutely stunning doing it. 

Sometimes, you helped him relax– other times, you were the reason that he couldn’t but he never let you see him sweat… 

Sure, he did have nights when he wanted to go out and have a cute something go all out flirting with him every once in a while but he had other places for that. This place was where he went to take it easy or schmooze or both and he sang its praises (and yours) to anyone that would listen. 

Hence why he brought so many people here– that and, he did have days where… and he couldn’t explain it but he just had a strong desire to hear your voice and to see you- that smile, that laugh, those eyes and when you wouldn’t notice, that figure. 

Tonight was one of those nights. The desire to just have you near him was so unbelievably strong but he feared his party this evening wasn’t the most hometrained. They just might’ve blown his cover if he wasn’t careful enough.

He sat back against the teal, chenille banquette, arms stretched along the back while his right leg crossed loosely over the left, foot rocking above his knee. He had been smirking as his two old buddies from middle school debated inappropriately about what they would and wouldn’t do in bed. He reached forward to grab his lit cigarette from the ashtray as the conversation pivoted to oral sex. 

These guys were absolute goobers with no game at all. He hoped they would stop by the time the girls arrived to keep them company or else they would start telling on themselves without realizing.

This should be good. He thought, right eye narrowing a bit as he softly hollowed his cheeks on inhale.

“I just don’t get how guys can stomach it for that long. A couple of licks and I’m over it.” said his buddy Miura with a wife and two kids.

Muira was a loyal friend but he wasn’t so much as a husband and to hear he was also a selfish lover, Nishiki could see why things turned out the way they did. He released his smoke and chuckled.

“‘A couple licks’?” he repeated incredulously. 

His other friend, Takagi, folded his arm over his rounded belly and smiled proudly, “I do just enough to get ‘em wet then I stick it in.”

Nishiki’s eyes widened. 

He shook his head as he rubbed at his bottom lip with his cigarette wielding hand. “You guys are horrific. I don’t even want to imagine the horror stories those poor girls are going back and telling their friends about you.”

Miura clicked his tongue, “Who cares what stories they tell. I know what really happened!”

Nishiki raised a brow at his friend and teased, “What, that you didn’t make them cum?”

“That’s not true!” the man denied, his face quickly growing red. “I’ve made loads of ladies cum! I always make them cum! Every single one of them!”

“Somehow I doubt that, Mr. Two Licks I’m Out.” Nishiki laughed. 

Takagi rested his arms on his knees and stared at their friend with a look of concern. “Say, Miura, why’re you makin’ it sound like you get so much pussy or somethin’ anyway? I’m really thinkin’ of tellin’ your wife at this point. I mean, think of the kids.”

“She’s the one that started screwin’ that damn rice farmer!” 

“Awww.” Nishiki and Takagi said in false sympathy. 

Muira long forgot that he drunkenly admitted to his wife finding out about his regular cheating and agreed to stay together for the sake of their children but she would be stepping out in the meantime. 

No one felt bad for him. 

Great friend, horrible husband.

Your voice, as lovely as the last he heard it– two nights ago to be exact, cut into his banter with his friends and he tried to make sure he wasn’t too responsive when he turned to meet it. He was glad you didn’t have a stethoscope attached to his chest or otherwise you would hear his heart playing blast beats. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting!” you chirped, your hands clasped in before your thighs as you bowed deeply.  

You were wearing that cute, knee length dress you bought last week. He remembered you being so excited about it when you described it to him. He was subtle about his eyes when they scanned you from top to bottom before you swiped your pretty, manicured hands beneath your perfect ass to pull your dress taut and taking your usual seat beside him.  He softly took his bottom lip in between his teeth and tilted his head to the side as he tried to regulate his breathing. 

Fuck, you looked amazing tonight. You looked amazing every night but tonight you had a certain glow about you. He could just eat you up… 

Figuratively, of course.

“It’s alright.” he said, finally releasing his lip and noting that a couple of unfortunate girls have paired off with his friends. “You’re a popular girl. That’s what I get for going after the best in the house, right?”

You gave him a polite smile, fumbling with your hands which were still in your lap as your eyes darted in between your coworkers. You never went for flattery but usually you would at least brush him off with a laugh. Instead, he sensed tension and this wasn’t the first time.

He removed his arms from behind the booth, positioning his clasped hands into the lap of his spread legs. He wasn’t even sure why he’d done it just that he was compelled to do it. 

“So, Nish–” 

“By the way–”

You giggled, so precious, then offered him the floor. 

He searched your face before leaning in, you smelled amazing. Familiar. He knew that he smelled the scent before but this wasn’t what you typically smelled like. He would have remembered. 

When did you change perfumes? 

Wait, was this the one he got you and if so, why did it smell better now than when he smelled it at the store? 

“Nishikiyama-san?” you called, when he continued to subtly hover next to you in silence. “Are you okay?” 

Shit. 

He needed to get himself together. He was better than this.

“Sorry, I just noticed that you…” he mumbled, rubbing the tip of his nose as he realized he was at risk of losing his ‘flying under the radar’ game with a comment like this. “Smell different.”

He watched you beam as you tucked your chin into your shoulder, bringing your manicured fingers to your chest, “You noticed! I didn’t think you would.”

“And why wouldn’t I?” he asked, folding his arms across his own chest playfully. You were the only damn girl in the place he paid any attention to. He’d notice if you plucked/waxed your eyebrows, if you dyed your hair or even if the color painted on your fucking toes was different since he’d last saw you.

You were his favorite.

You teased your hair, eyes dancing between his, “I don’t know. Most guys give us gifts and don’t remember that they’ve given them to us. Some give gifts just to curry favor or out of obligation– Or shut certain people up.”

Your voice lowered, and you rocked yourself in his direction to whisper that last part. He laughed. He usually hated workplace gossip when he went to these places but he would listen to you tell him who was getting tatami replaced if that was what you had on your chest that day. 

Speaking of chests, it wasn’t lost on him that your neckline was sort of plunging. You had some of the most gorgeous skin that he’s ever seen, amongst other things– except, he’s not supposed to be seeing it. 

If he had been playing this properly, you had no inkling that he was even into you. There should be no reason for you to suspect that the reason that the sweat beading around his hairline had likely come from the stress of avoiding any undue glances at the valley of your breasts and not the heat of the building.

“You think I don’t notice things, huh?”

He lost. 

He snuck a peek but it was perfect– as were you, by the way. 

“I got you that necklace, didn’t I?” he asked rhetorically, eyeing the necklace and absolutely nothing else. “Let’s see…”

You hid your folded hands in your lap once again and he reached delicately for the decorated forearm.

“That bracelet….”

You gasped dramatically.

“C’mon, I point that out every time you wear it…” he said, attempting to fight off the sheepish feeling creeping up on him. “The perfume is new, though.”

“That’s because I wore it for the first time just for you tonight.”

His heart skipped a couple of beats. 

His ears rang. 

He had to look away. 

He didn’t really care where his gaze fell but he wanted to make sure he appeared as disinterested as possible. 

Fuck. The room was spinning, though. 

He scanned his friends who had long since forgotten his existence just as he had forgotten theirs. He half rolled his head to crack his neck then stretched his arms back out onto the booth as he called to his friends.

“Miura, Takagi. We’ve been sitting here a while.” he said. “I say we order something.”

“You're paying right, Nishikiyama?” Miura laughed then tapped his hostess with his elbow. “Sweetheart, bring me the most expensive shit you got!”

When he looked at you, you went into your default, robotic menu presentation. 

He hated doing what he had just done but he was never sure what to make of the things you said. He was sure you said sweet things like that to every customer that gave you gifts. You weren’t the only one he’s given a gift to either, but you were the only one that made him feel things when he saw them again– the only one he actually put thought into shopping for.

He lowered the menu in your hands and smiled, “You know what I like. Take care of me, yeah?”

You nodded, then turned to raise your hand to call over a server. 

Nishiki reached into the pocket of his maroon coat to retrieve his cigarettes and lighter then watched as you placed his usual order. He should’ve waited to let you light it for him but he had gone into a trance. Even when doing something as simple as asking for liquor and greasy food, you looked like a divine being. 

Simply otherworldly. 

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off… and had been off for some time now.

He blew out a puff of smoke that obscured the view of your side profile and once you were facing him again, it faded and he could see it clear as day. 

There was a crack in your transcendence. 

What were you in need of?

How could he relieve you?

—

The usual 90 minute session plus one hour extension that Nishiki tended to get with you flew by as usual. His friends left 30 minutes earlier- Miura, to get back to the wife and kids and Takagi to not risk cutting it close for the last train of the night. So, there was no longer any need for the other two hostesses that accompanied you during the session. That just left him to spend the remainder of the time alone with you and naturally, he had no complaints about that.

He contemplated all evening when or even if, he should bring this up especially since he wasn’t certain at the time. Now that there was no one left but the two of you, it was too blatant not to. 

When your coworkers were there, you were anxious. Quiet. You seemed to go into a quiet panic when he would say certain things– which were never bad but if he had to wager, you must have been worried about them being taken out of context. 

Now that the girls were gone, you were calmer albeit still a bit tense.

He couldn’t leave it alone.

He wasn’t sure what was going on but he suspected this place had much to do with it. He would whisk you away if he could, even if only for one night.

“Say,” he said, placing his empty, sweating glass onto the chaotic table. “Where do you take up after hours anyway?”

Your confused expression was one of your cutest ones but his question was quite clear. You could fool anyone else but he wouldn’t let you try it with him.

“You’ve told me about some of your hobbies and stuff but you never really told me what you like to do after work. How do you unwind?”

“Uh…” you trailed off and nothing else followed. 

You shared a lot about yourself but there seemed to be many things that you preferred to keep private. Unfortunately for you, he wanted to know all there was to know about you. He longed for a day when you would become an open book and show him all of your pages, even the unrefined, ripped and scratched out ones that you hid from everyone else. 

“Don’t tell me you go home and do nothing?” he teased. “You know, your coworkers go out to hit the bars and clubs right after their shifts are done.”

You stared at him in silence for a moment too long then muttered, “Of course you would know.” Then, you looked away.

Something in that expression worried him. This time, he couldn’t even hide it if he wanted to. He felt his brows twitch together as he turned toward you on the banquette, resting his forearms on his knees. 

What the fuck has he done now?

“What do you mean?”

You shrugged, rolling your fingers over your thumb as if indifferent. “I’ve heard about you…”

Oh. That. 

He could almost laugh but he didn’t.

He has been your regular for a year and 4 months yet this was only now coming up? It made his lips curl, his ears perk and his mouth salivate. 

What was it to you anyway? 

What, did you want to know if the rumors were true?

“Yeah?” he tried his best to contain his smile and so, he licked his lips instead. “And? Tell me… What am I famous for?”

He wanted so badly to tease you for the way your eyes popped and averted. He could feel the heat rising from you just from where he sat. Anywhere else, he might’ve given you a really hard time. But you were working, after all and he wasn’t sure if you realized it but, the two of you seemingly had an audience.

“The girls say that you’ve invited them out to hook up and never call them back or something.”

Or something, but something told him you knew the whole story. 

Cute.

“That’s the scoop, huh? I see… So, I’m no good a hostess hopper, then?” He tightened his lips as he ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Alright, well. Do you want the truth or a lie?”

You scrunched your nose up at him, “I don't care to know your business but if I did, obviously I would prefer the truth. What kind of question is that?”

His eyes scanned the room, noting your coworkers staring not-so-subtly as he swayed his back against the teal seating, “I did recognize at least two girls here that I’ve been with before.”

“‘At least’?”

He nodded, tilting his head as he looked at you with a tired expression. “The thing is though, I didn’t realize they worked here until after it happened. It’s not as if I found them here and asked them out– They just so happened to be where I was. We talked. One thing lead to another–”

You waved a dismissive hand at him, “Okay, I think I get the jist. I know how hook-ups work, Nishikiyama-san.”

Nishiki straightened his posture and looked you square in the eye. “Just know that I never met them here and invited them out anywhere.”

“You know, Nishikiyama-san, I’m not really sure that I care all that much…” you said scratching your temple. “I’m not even sure why you’re telling me this.”

He had a buzz that helped him gather the confidence to do what he was about to do but it dissipated the moment heart began to pound against his chest again.

“Because I want you to understand the difference when I tell you that I won’t pressure you, but if you’re looking for a change of pace once you’re done for the night…” he began, reaching into his wallet to retrieve a business card with an address, number but someone else’s name on it. “I recommend this bar. It’s run by a friend of mine. It’s a really nice place to unwind– never gets crowded. I’ll be headed there some time after this.”

He handed you the card and when you grabbed the other end of it, he continued to hold his end as he scanned your face. “This is what it looks like when I actually invite someone out.”

“Um,” you started. “I’m not promising that I’ll be there but–”

You’re nervous. 

You’re questioning his intentions. 

He can see it in your eyes.

“Excuse me sir but your session extension has expired.” a server interrupted but Nishiki ignored him. This was far more important.

“You’ll think about it?” he asked, finally releasing the card with a hopeful smile.

You smiled one final time before standing to do your session closing. “I’ll think about it.”

He rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants and nodded. “Then, that’s all a guy could hope for.”

MASATO AIZAWA

Masato is 6’4 himself. So, that only makes them an inch taller than he is. He’s become a little too secure in himself to get preoccupied about silly details like that. As far as he’s concerned, all that means is not having to duck to kiss his partner and everything lining up damn near perfectly when he wants to cuddle them, amongst other things. A win is a win is a win! 

TAIGA SAEJIMA

He’s said it once and he’ll continue to say it til he’s blue in the face! He’s a sucker for long legs and his 6’5 partner has got them in spades. There’s never a time when he lets an opportunity to remind them of that go to waste. Aside from spending a little bit more time drooling at the sight of them in something other than pants, he can’t really say he does anything differently.

KAZUMA KIRYU

He may mentally acknowledge it when they first start dating, but unless they voice concerns about their height, it is quite literally not even a factor. He’s another of those often mentioned here that fall for the whole of his person and that, to him, means not criticizing and critiquing anything about them unless it’s an amenable quality that is entirely in their control.

(HIS IS SILLY, BUT I ASK THAT YOU PLEASE DO NOT READ MAJIMA’S IF BEING TALL IS A SORE SPOT FOR YOU)

GORO MAJIMA

To my readers,

As a selfshipper, I am an avid believer in the idea that my f/o no matter who they are, are going to love and adore me from top to bottom!

It doesn’t matter what I look like, what I’m shaped like, what I sound like, what I do for a living, where I’m from, what language I speak, what flaws I have, what battles I fight and so on-- I could be an ant living in their cupboards or a 5-headed humanoid creature delivered straight from hell, my f/o LOVES ME!

No one else's opinion matters!

I STRONGLY encourage everyone, be it fellow self-shippers or just those that dabble in the odd xReader fic from time to time to believe in that for themselves as well.

-While I absolutely 100% agree that his approach would differ greatly depending on the type of person he’s fawni– going after, I’m not sure if he could do so without his natural charm and charisma. That’s like, two thirds of his confidence haha.

-That said, his charm is just as natural as it is a put-on. He dresses it up or down depending on what a situation requires of him. Nishiki is very adaptable in that way. Even so, I don’t think this version of him– meaning the y0 version, will never not have some level of charm. That, to me, would be like a person changing a fundamental element of who they are for the sake of another and when that element is harmless, it seems almost… Unfair, for lack of a better word.

-As an example of what I mean by adaptable, in my fic Rumors, he’s still very much his charming self but he doesn’t really try to use that to woo our Reader character, who I wouldn’t exactly call shy but is certainly guarded. Hello– am I about to spoil my own fic? Lol, I’ll try my best not to. In one way or another, he essentially follows the reader’s lead. They don’t realize it, but they practically dictate what he does and doesn’t do– What he does or doesn’t say. 

-Believe it or not, even he deals with shyness to a degree. While it doesn’t exactly prevent him from chatting someone up, it quite literally does make him sweat. It makes his heart race even. He’s just gotten lots of practice. His shyness may differ in that it’s more so a result of the fear of rejection but that doesn’t invalidate it! For that reason, it’s not really in his interest to push anyone beyond their limits unless it’s for the greater good– and trying to get a cutie pie’s number is not exactly for the greater good, no matter how much he may feel like it could be. Lol!

-Simply put, he would meet them where they’re at. If letting them know from the start that he’s into them is the worst possible approach, he’ll operate from the opposite end of the spectrum and simply behave like they’re just a person to him. No more, no less. While it’ll be clear from his actions that they are far more than that, much of his direct behavior would say otherwise. Now, I’m not saying that’s the right way to go about it, but that’s just how things tend to pan out. 

-He would spend less time flirting and more time trying to get to know who they are as an individual, figuring out what makes them tick– what doesn’t, and using that to make modifications, I guess you could say. 

-Shyness is nothing, though. He can figure that out. Don’t be pushy, operate on their timing– no matter how much it pains him, keep his distance but not too much distance. Done, done and done.

-It’s the guarded part that would give him the hardest time. When he’s genuinely into someone, his desire to know the whole of them is what drives the pursuit. That’s honestly how anyone can determine whether what he’s after is a fling or if the feelings are more genuine: the persistence of the chase. 

-His main goal would be to do what he must to indirectly encourage them to let down that wall. Sometimes, that means disguising his romantic interest beneath the guise of complete disinterest. Not in a way that makes him come off like a rude asshole, but more so in a way that would lead them to believe that there’s not much behind his random inquiries about who they are and what they’re about. What’s he doing here? Is he just talking to them to pass the time or what? Meanwhile, he’s hanging on to their every word and mentally begging for more.

-That proooobably seems a little manipulative, but that’s what has worked so far! Now, if this person is so guarded that not even his best attempts can get them to open up, he’ll probably just chalk that up to rejection, lack of interest or incompatibility on their part. That doesn’t exactly mean that he’ll give up entirely, but it absolutely changes things.