13 Works by espada
Listing Works
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"...I'm stuck." Kiryu said, flatly, his voice clearer now but still slightly echoed from inside the drum. After a good ten minutes of struggling, it seemed as though he had accepted his fate...or maybe he was just too embarrassed to keep wiggling his ass now that he had an audience.
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"...Fine," Kiryu finally conceded. It wasn't like he had anything to lose. Who knows, maybe Nanba would be happy to hear he fucked a robot - that was on most people's bucket lists, right?
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Kiryu clenched his jaw and shifted his weight, leaning back to try and assess the situation. But between the soft, full mounds of his chest and the protruding belly beneath them, he couldn't see.
He literally could not see his own dick anymore, let alone Majima's hole.
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Kiryu stood in front of the mirrored wardrobe in his small Nagasugai apartment, the blinds drawn closed despite the cheerful morning sun outside. What had intended to be a quick one-over before he headed to work was turning into a staring competition with his own reflection. He'd lived in a baggy sweatsuit most of his days here, and it had certainly been doing a good job of making him feel like he hadn't gained a substantial amount of weight over the past few months.
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"Fuck me, Rikiya," Kiryu reiterated, frustration colouring his tone. He shifted, sitting upright and pulling Rikiya with him, hands splayed firmly on his shoulders. His face seemed to be getting redder by the minute, and it wasn't because of the weather. "It's...it's been a long time since I've dealt with this properly."
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Kiryu didn’t particularly enjoy sucking dicks. He wasn’t doing this to appease some deep, depraved part of him. No, this just happened to be the only "job" he could think of that allowed him to earn some money while remaining anonymous. Ryukyu was small, and many locals recognized and respected him as the director of the humble orphanage by the shore. Somehow, that was even worse than being recognized as the Dragon of Dojima - at least in this particular context.
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Kiryu continued this routine for a week. A shower at Tachibana's, increasingly daily, and sometimes stupidly late at night. He felt like he was some kind of wild animal that Tachibana had taken pity on, crawling back to the only place that fed him and kept him warm. It was sad how true it was, at least on Kiryu's part.
One night, Tachibana nonchalantly stepped into the shower himself.
While Kiryu was still using it.
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All I Want For Christmas by espada
Fandoms: 龍が如く | Ryuu ga Gotoku | Yakuza (Video Games)
10 Nov 2025
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Unable to face Hironaka after an underwhelming sale of Christmas cakes as Ono Michio, Kiryu resolves to take the unsold cakes back to the temple and consume them himself. Not a single cake would go to waste, especially if Hanawa had anything to say about it.
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Did Kiryu even realize how hot he was? Sitting there in his favourite old shirt his daughter had brought from Okinawa, formal pants traded for washed-out jeans, and a comfy-looking pair of brown loafers on his feet. His shoulders were wide as ever, but without the muscle mass of yesteryear, Ichiban found himself admiring the way his softer, droopier chest looked clinging to the fabric of his shirt. The swell of a modest belly sat below, made of love.
Kiryu's body was different, but it meant that he had survived. He was still here against all odds, growing stronger. Growing, in general.
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This was the last time Ryoma accepted anything from suspicious, wandering vendors. No, really. He means it this time.
He was just lucky he had caught his reflection in a nearby trickling stream before he wandered back into the busier parts of town. It had taken him a few moments to really understand what he was seeing, though, because it appeared as if his ears had become those a cow's. Floppy and fluffy, the same colour black as his hair. Small horns sat nestled upon his head, and just when he thought the surprises were over, his tail swished into view.
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Those spandex wrestling shorts digging into thick hips, soft belly spilling over the band, with thighs thicker than his head and a shapely ass to match. Untrimmed hair crawled up the expanse of his belly and bloomed across his chest, giving Kiryu a truly rugged, home-grown look, befitting of the laid back and natural lifestyle of Okinawa. Rikiya loved it.
"You've never seen me with a six pack," Kiryu playfully argued, crossing his arms over his ample chest.
"I don't need to," Rikiya doubled down. "You're already perfect."
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Kiryu Kazuma was not only known for his fighting skills, but for his herculean stature that allowed him to fight in such ways. Kiryu Kazuma was broad but slender, with rough skin pulled taut over bulging muscles, and not an ounce of body fat to be pinched.
And for Joryu, that simply wouldn’t do. For Joryu, the perfect disguise, they needed him to be the opposite of Kiryu Kazuma. What better way than to turn firm into soft? Flat into round? The faction unanimously agreed, in the mysterious, often nonsensical way they usually did.
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It was only after Kiyomi left that the absurdity of what Kiryu was doing had sunk in. Here he was, in the back room of a bar somewhere in Hiroshima, getting his impossibly swollen pecs milked not unlike a cow, lactating in the first place because he loved his grandson too much. It was probably the single strangest thing that had ever happened to him. Or, no, maybe not. But definitely in the top five.