#chainsaw man kishibe

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

WOW!!!!!!

Welcome to the new friends, and hello to my long time followers!! I can’t believe so many more of you have joined our ranks just overnight!!! I love writing and I love writing fan fiction, and I have been publishing on this account for a year now and being able to chat with mutuals and fellow fans of JJK and Naruto and Chainsaw Man!

Thank you so much for all the support and all the wonderful feedback! I am always so interested in y’all’s thoughts about my work and the fandoms as a whole!! So thank you for every comment and every ask and every interaction!!

I have other stuff that I want to write about in other fandoms but I haven’t yet gotten there, so there is plenty of good stuff to come!

Y’all are the best. Thank you so much!

-Doodle

Bottled Up (Satoru Gojo x Reader)

MDNI SMUT 18+ CONTENT

Gojo can’t cum. Too much on his mind, not enough time to himself, not enough chances to indulge. It’s becoming a matter of personal hygiene. He can't go on like this. He needs help. Your help.

Ao3 Masterlist.

WC: 7.4k Warnings: casual sex, raw sex, penetrative sex, kissing, kissing SLOPPY, oral m!receiving, discussion of anal but not present really, improper use of cursed energy, doggy, begging, crying, desperate whiny Gojo, brief mention on former satosugu,

------ Wow can you guys even believe? I actually wrote something about Gojo!! Tbh writing about/for him intimidates the fuck out of me but i have some longer form ideas about him so this was a good exercise. I hope y’all like it. -Doodle

Satoru can’t cum. He’s broken. His balls dried up. His dick died. His cursed energy overloaded and rendered him impotent. Limitless misfired and clogged him completely. It was the only way to explain why he hadn’t cum in two months.

He used to be able to cum. Fuck, he used to cum too easy. Ten years ago he would jerk off before hooking up so he didn’t cum too fast. He was so fucking sensitive, every touch or graze could send him shivering. Now he would have given anything for his days as a quick draw. That life was over.

Do people have cum caps? Like a finite amount of times they can orgasm and an excess of masturbation and experimentation in his youth had burned through his chances. He wants to believe that if he had known how wasteful he was, he would have acted differently, but it was a lie. He was too instinctual, everything in his nature, his upbringing, had taught him to trust his instincts above all else. They kept him alive, kept him going, kept him satisfied. But now, a vital piece of the puzzle was missing.

It was the sixty-sixth day in a row. He got home around eleven pm, an earlier night than most. His apartment, with its spotless, professionally tended, interior that betrayed the depraved chaos burning inside of him. Dropping his keys and shoes at the door he groaned into the silence at the way his work pants shifted against his throbbing erection trucked down his left leg. This was the part that was growing painful. The sensitivity. It started just around his pelvis, any brush of fabric or misjudged distance between himself and curses, near his hips would send a shaking beat of pleasure up his spine. But it spread, and spread. Even the car seat against his back was starting to turn him on. Last week Principle Yaga touched the back of his neck by mistake and his eyes rolled back. His black blindfold was working finding more work by the day. He started leaving limitless up constantly, well, more constantly. Only dropping completely after he had crossed the threshold of his home. Anything else was too risky.

Today had been rough, he woke up aching between his legs, the coldest shower he could stand helped to bring it down, but not for long. On the way to work he had to cross and re-cross his legs, a difficult feat at his height, over and over until he got to the school. Because of his existence in the good graces of the universe, there were no classes, only a brutally endless string of meetings. Not good, but at least…seated. By the time the final meeting was dismissed he thought he could bite through a cement support beam. On the way out, one of the higher ups patted him on the back, limitless blocking it from making contact, but he found a tantalizing urge to let it pass through, just for the contact.

He was fucking ruined.

Passing through the mainroom, up the staircase to the bedroom, he pulled his blindfold from his eyes, blinking a few times, snowy eyelashes relaxing from their position pressed against his eyelids. Finally in his bedroom, he pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor, already breathing hot and deep. He passed his bed into the ensuite bathroom, clicking the light and taking in his own reflection.

Fuck, he looked rough.

Skin sallow. Muscles strained and tense. Still handsome, of course, but drained. Like he had been wrung out.

And alone.

Satoru clicked the light off. He couldn’t go there.

He walked himself over to the bed, lithe hands finding his belt and unfastening it, slipping his pants down his legs. A relieved sigh left his mouth as the tight garment was removed. He sat on the edge of his bed, palming his desperate erection. He was shivering, the stimuli so overwhelming already. He wasn’t hopeful, but he was too desperate to stop. Keening back onto the bed, he let his eyes close. He didn’t want to see, the only sensation he wanted was to feel himself, touching himself, bringing him to the peak that felt so insurmountable. He was diamond hard now, finally he pulled himself free of the confines of his briefs. Taking his length into his hand, circling his palm over his barren tip.

He couldn’t even precum anymore.

He groaned in frustration, scooting back further on the cushy mattress, his briefs joining his discarded pants on the floor. He spit onto his hand, coating his dick from base to head, easing his strokes. He let his head fall back against the pillows, dredging up memories of past lovers to try and aid his efforts. He wasn’t really a porn guy, not above it, certainly. But it was overstimulating, bright lights, too colorful, just overwhelming to his already heightened senses. He preferred to rely on his own mind, he was in total control there. Or at least he used to be. His mind was too full of other bullshit to wander into the salacious. Work, always work. Lesson plans, missions, reports, meetings.

Fuck.

He reset, turning over onto his knees, moving one of his silken pillows under him, opting to rut against the soft cushion. One hand underneath pressing it against his length. His head hanging heavy under his shoulders, sweat dripping down the slope of his nose. The cold silk pillowcase against his cock, making his sweating body erupt into goosebumps. He slid his hips, gasping out shuddering breaths. It felt so good, so cold and soft against his begging erection. The muscles in his back rippled, swelling and beckoning under his frosty, even skin. The light of his bedroom cast gorgeous shadows on his back and hips, bringing out his excellent physique. The shadow of his spine, the lat muscles under large, perfectly worked arms, almost appearing as angel wings in the low, soft glow.

He brought his thoughts to long shapely legs, thighs shaking under his touch. Lips, wet and swollen, against his own. This was working, his breath was starting to catch in time with his hips against the pillow. He let his mind continue to wander and increased his speed. Glute muscles flexing hard as images of bodies he once held, some with features he knew well, some less familiar but still worth remembering. Some too familiar, silky, long black hair falling into his mouth. Dark violet eyes, full, strong arms.

No. Not that. He couldn’t go there either. There was nothing left for him anymore.

It killed his momentum. Still aching below but too stormy on top. Stilling his hips, slouching over the mattress. He took a few deep breaths, trying to take in the room around him in pieces, grounding himself in the present. In reality.

He wiped his wet hand over his face then on the sheets below him, gripping hard. This was getting ridiculous. He felt pathetic. Tears burned behind his blessed eyes. He felt broken. He felt shame bubbling behind his navel. He couldn’t live like this. He needed to cum. He needed to release all of this build up and get himself right.

Satoru pulled his phone from the discarded pants and tapped it a few times. Until he found just what he was looking for.

Your phone screen illuminated your dark bedroom. Your humidifier was on, your lights had been long turned out. You had just fallen asleep after some restless tossing and turning. The screen lit up again, this time chiming out a text notification. That jarred you from the warm grip of dream and made your head spring up. You glanced at the screen, trying to read the too bright notification with sleep still coating your eyes. But before you could, it changed to the dimmer incoming call screen. It vibrated on the nightstand, suddenly too loud to ignore. You sighed, and retrieved it.

It was Gojo. He was calling you. You hadn’t seen him in months. fuck was that right? You thought back. You hadn’t seen him in…six months. The last time you left his gorgeous, perfectly styled, agonizingly well put together apartment, it hadn’t been on bad terms, by any metric, but it wasn’t like you were falling into each other's arms either. There hadn’t been any blow out or agreement not to see each other anymore, it just fizzled out. You were sure you had been disappointed when the calls and texts slowed to a trickle, but it wasn’t like you were dating or anything. You had hooked up a few times earlier in the year. No more than four times total. Okay, six times. Okay, nine times. Okay, you lost track somewhere in the second month. What really qualifies as hooking up these days, anyway? Just penetration or sexting? Oral? Hand stuff? Hand stuff in public? Other stuff in public? What should even qualify if you were keeping track -- which you weren’t! You answered the call.

“Do you know what time it is?” You sighed out, smiling through your feigned annoyance.

He purred on the other side of the line, “hmmmm, what are you wearing?”

“Pajamas, because it's almost one in the morning.” your voice was hoarse, sleep having laid your vocal cords to rest.

“Sounds hot.” You could hear his stupidly sexy smile, “You should come over. Can’t waste an outfit like that at home.”

You laugh, already planning how quickly you could pull yourself together, and whether or not the trains were still running, “You’re kidding me. I haven't heard from you in months. You call at an ungodly hour and expect me to come running over at the drop of a hat?”

“You don’t have to run, I’ll send a car.” He coos.

You laugh again, stretching in your bed, letting out a soft groan.

“mmmm, do that again.” His voice grew heavier, there was some suspicious sounding rustling on his end.

You stayed quiet, wanting to see if you would hear anything else and wanting to deny him.

“Now don’t be like that, baby.” He whines, he sounds pathetic “I need your help. It’s an emergency.”

You got out of your bed, still taking your sweet time, savoring his helplessness, “An emergency, huh? Nothing fatal I hope.”

His tongue clicks on the other side, “hmmm, it’s hard to say. Could be a fever, I’m feeling…hot.”

You hate that a line so corny is making you bite your lips to keep quiet. You slipped into a cuter, but still comfy lounge set, a bit more versatile than your pajamas “Sounds contagious, maybe it would be best if I stayed home…”

“Please!” His voice changed, cracking and almost panicked, “I need you, please.”

There was no version of this conversation that ended any other way, “Send the car.”

“Already outside.” You heard his face split into that gorgeous smile you couldn't resist, not even over the phone.

When you arrived at his front door, you didn't even have a chance to knock before he swung the door open. And fuck he looked good. Bad, but good? Not bad, just…disheveled. He hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on, inhumanly muscled torso glowy and flushed, his hair matted and unkempt, a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips. The long, angled white scar healed from an injury long past going from his shoulder to his opposite hip. You traced the line with your eyes, recalling the first time you had seen it, how he had moved your fingers over it, getting you used to the feeling of it under your touch, assuring you that it was long healed and nothing to fuss over. Every inch of him was perfect, despite his pain, his history. You couldn’t resist the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world. Your ogling did not go unnoticed, looking up to his face you saw the smile you had heard so much of recently.

“Miss me?” He opened the door wider, allowing you to enter, ducking under his arm.

“Yeah.” You admitted rolling your eyes and stepping inside, leaving your shoes at the door.

You took in the sleek, cavernous town house around you. His decor hadn’t changed at all, a lovely front room, a staircase along one windowed wall, leading up to his bedroom. If you were to press further into the main floor, peeling back shoji screens you would find more bedrooms, frozen in time just as they were last left by their former inhabitants, his office, barely ever touched, a gorgeous bathroom complete with a personal sauna. For someone who spent nearly no time at home, he really did have the house dreams are made of.

“I can get you something to drink if you want.” He offers, shutting and locking the door.

“That’s okay. You sounded pretty desperate on the phone, I’d hate to keep you waiting.

He wasn’t totally ready for this part. Having to explain what was going on with him. He shifted a bit, he wanted you so bad. He needed it. He needed every part of you right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Come on Gojo, you got me out here. Don’t get shy on me now. What’s the big emergency?” You set your bag down on his expansive kitchen island, not subtly eyeing the absolutely incomprehensible bulge tenting the front of his sweats.

“It’s been so long, why the rush, Sugar?” He plays coy, approaching you with a suave gait, moving past you to the refrigerator, “Sparkling water? Still? I can go down to the cellar if you want something stronger?”

“Gojo…” You raise your eyebrows.

“I have tea or coffee if you prefer. Some sodas, you like diet right?”

“Gojo come on---”

“You know i'm not great in the kitchen but if you’re hungry I could---”

“Satoru!” You cut him off, finally pulling his attention from the icebox, “What’s up with you?”

His white eyebrows knit together in the center, making his eyes droop pitfully, “I can’t cum.”

You can barely hear his confession, and you must have heard him wrong so in earnest you ask, “What?”

“I can’t cum. For weeks, nothing. I try and I try and just…nothing.” He blurts, simultaneously relieved and mortified.

You know you shouldn't stare, that you should say something, but you’re dumbfounded. There was once a time, not too long ago even, where he had you bent over this exact counter pushing through his own leaking orgasm to bring you to tears. And that had been the third round that night. You always thought he was the untouchable man, a paragon of self control and pushed limits. To think of him unable to even pleasuring himself, it felt impossible.

“You can’t cum?” You say dumbly.

“Well now that you have repeated it, I think I must be cured, you can go now.” He rolled his eyes, leaning his shoulder against the fridge, fighting the hiss that bubbles in his throat from its chilling surface against his heated skin.

“I’m sorry!” You put your hands up like you had been caught, “It's just a little hard to believe! I never expected you to….struggle…in this…area.”

Gojo’s eyebrows flew up, every word you said made it worse. You could feel it but you couldn’t stop yourself. You were apparently determined to put every foot possible in your big stupid mouth.

“I just mean because you’re usually so good! How could this happen, are you sick? I don’t know why I would even ask that! Obviously you’re not sick, you're just….having some…dysfunction.”

“Why would you say dysfunction?” He stared at you, ego bruised but still amused at how poorly you were handling this.

“I didn’t mean like that! I Just---”

“Any other word. Any word in the world you could have said, and you go with dysfunction.” He chuckles, his own embarrassment now vacated completely in wake of how flagrantly you had just shit the bed.

“That was super dumb, and I’m really sorry. I have no idea what to say.” You just gave up on the second half of the sentence, knowing nothing you were saying was going to help.

“I don't have erectile dysfunction, the erection is not the problem,” He doesn’t have to gesture below his waist, the subject of conversation stands perfectly at attention, pushing against the flimsy fabric, “It won't go away, I’m stuck like this, and I can’t think about anything else, and I can’t get anything done. I need your help, you have to help me get rid of it.”

Your chest warmed a bit, a sly canary eating smile crossed your face, “So you called me, huh?”

“Yes I called you.” He sighs.

“Out of everyone you could have booty called to help your infinite boner, you call little old me? Gojo, I'm touched!” You sound like you're accepting a Nobel prize.

He rolls his eyes, “I knew you were going to be annoying about this.”

You took a seat at one of the bar stools at the counter, resting your head flirtatiously on your perched hands, “So like when you were choosing who to call, what made you pick me…am I just that good?”

You were, fuck you really were. He had thought about you so many times, Your perfect body, your pretty eyes, your soft hair, your legs around his hips, your fucking mouth. It had been too long over all, but it had been far too long since he had been with you. He called you because he knew you were great, and because he trusted you. He could be honest with you without judgement, your current reaction notwithstanding. He knew that he could count on you to be discreet and up front. There weren’t any guessing games when you were together, he didn’t have to guess or grasp for clues at how you were feeling. He knew you.

“That’s right.” He nodded, willing to let you have this.

You let out a teasing school yard oooooooooooooh. Batting your eyelashes and grinning widely, feeling like the absolute queen of the universe.

But he was growing impatient, “You gonna help me out, or what?”

“Sounds like I have quite the reputation to protect, how long has it been exactly?” You eyed him up and down.

“Still about twenty centimeters. Give or take.” He answers, “Oh! You mean--two months.”

“Months? Two MONTHS?” You gawked and then caught yourself, “I’m sorry I know that doesn’t help…I just can’t believe you’re upright. How are you not hospitalized?”

“If this conversation takes much longer I may have to be.” He crosses the room to you, leaning over where you are seated on the counter, putting his arm around you to grip the back of your chair.

You lean back, taking in a breath as he leans closer. Fuck, he’s so handsome. Perfect pearly skin, hair soft and fluffy, those fucking eyes holding you still under their gaze.

“Come on, Sugar, help a guy out. We’re friends right? Friends help each other.” His breath is sweet against your face.

You feel hypnotized, looking between his eyes and lips in a dizzying circle. His cocky demeanor you were so used to was crackling, you could see beads of sweat that had formed on his brow, his tongue wet and heavy kept his lips parted, drawing you closer. He smelled like him, warm and clean, the whole place smelled like him. You were completely in his arena, but you still had all the power. The Strongest asking you for help, begging even, you felt high. You tilted your head up, close to his face, catching his eyes,

“What are friends for?” You closed the distance between you, locking your lips together.

He is quick to pull you closer, making your breasts press hard against his chest, drawing a moan from both of you. His tongue slips past your lips, and maps the interior of your mouth quickly. Reacquainting himself with your taste. Even just a kiss, a real kiss, made his body shudder. His left hand holds your face, his long fingers splayed over your cheek, from your neck up to you temple, his right hand held the back of your neck, keeping you firm in place against him. You are far handsier than him in this moment. You can’t stop yourself, you missed his body, his kiss, him. Feeling his toned stomach, around his hips to his back, digging your nails in just enough to see if he gasps. He does not. Far too focused on the sloppy, dripping kiss he waited so patiently for. He’s leaning over you, pushing you further and further back, making you dangerously close to falling off the stool below you. But of course, his hand grabs your back, holding you still, right where we wanted you. Just past the point where you would have to engage your abs, but not far enough for you to want to hold yourself up. Muscles right on the precious of passive ability and focused contraction, forcing to to rely on his hold, trusting him completely, and he could feel you would relax into his palm, melting into his touch.

“Fuck, Gojo. You really are desperate.” You giggled as his kissed moved down to your jaw and neck.

He moaned against your skin as your nails clawed at his lower back, nodding his head passively, running his tongue over your pulse point.

“You’re so pretty.” He hooks your leg over his hip, pressing the problem child erection right against yours clothed cunt, drawing a shaky gasp from you.

“Not here.” He pulls himself away. “Upstairs…do this right…let’s”

He’s not finishing any of his sentences, you almost worry if whatever problem that resides in his cock could be spreading to his brain. But maybe it was contagious because you can’t bring yourself to care. Holding your hand a bit too tight, he pulls you forward and up the staircase to his bedroom. He doesn’t bother shutting the door, no one else has lived here in a long time. The house is quiet, bar from the panting breaths that drip from both of you, the rustle of clothes, and the reconnection of hot, desperate skin. You kiss him again, pushing him back toward the bed. He allows you to push him onto the mattress, disconnecting your lips.

“So?” You flirt, standing naked before him, letting him see all of you, “how do you wanna fix this?”

He has shed his sweatpants in the shuffle, propped up on his elbow, the other hand giving himself long, slow strokes.

“I’ve been dreaming about that mouth, baby.” He chews on the interior of his bottom lip, “show me if you’re as good as I remember.”

He spreads his legs, allowing you a good long look at how hard he really has become. Angry, pink tip swollen, veins along the shaft straining against the skin. The lower ab muscles are so strained you think they might pop. You had almost forgotten how fucking big he is. Everything about him was too big. His broad, strong body, his long spindly legs, built, strong arms hanging below his hips, those big hands with their knuckly fingers, his long, thick cock and the ego that accompanied. Seeing all of him, how big he was, made a shock run up and down your spine.

How the fuck had you fit this thing inside of you before?

“Oh, don’t be shy now,” he echos your earlier words, “you can take it.”

Not to be out foxed, you steel yourself and sink to your knees in between his spread legs. He stops stroking himself, leaning against both elbows now, waiting with held breath for you to begin.

Your put your hands on his knees, massaging them down and up, feeling the taut muscles of his thighs, the soft hairs under your hands.

“You think about me a lot?” You kissed the side of his left knee.

“Mhm.” His head hung backs exposing his delicious, wiry throat.

His adam’s apple bobbed as he gasped, you ran your nails down his legs, making his hips jerk upward.

“Don’t tease baby, it’s bad enough already!” He begged.

Fuck he sounded good like that. No one could swing the pendulum of pathetic and cocky quite like Satoru Gojo.

“Two months huh?” You carried on, giving open mouthed kisses up his thigh between thoughts, “you must be sooooo sensitive. Poor baby.”

He nods, his eyes squeezed right, trying to focus on every sensation you’re giving him.

Finally you reach the divot between his hip and the base of his pelvis, the internal hinge of his thigh. You ran your tongue along the muscle, tasting the salt of his body. His hips jerk again.

“Please!” He cries out, the lamp at his bedside flicker off and on again.

“Careful Satoru.” You warned, “all you had to do was ask.”

You swirl your tongue around the swollen, aching tip of his dick. Looping around the underside of the head and sliding your mouth down further.

Satoru was in heaven, his eyes rolled back in his head, he fought to keep his hips still, he didn’t want to hurt you, but fuck he wanted more.

You slide your tongue along each beautiful vein, making a perfect map in your head of the topography of his penis. Pulling off and sinking back down again you could take him all the way to the base, coarse white hair ticking your nose as your relaxed your throat to accommodate him he fell back against the bed, one hand moving your hair off your forehead so he could see your pretty face. He didn’t know what he wanted to do more, relax into the pleasure and let it wash over him, or watch you take him further. He leaned up to watch, just as your peeked on eye open to see him falling apart. But the eye contact was too much for him to bear, he felt his cheeks erupt in a blush, and he fell backward again, using one arm to shield his eyes.

You tutted, running his cock along your lips as your spoke, giving it sloppy kisses to make the syllabals, “oh Satoru, look at me, baby. Doesn’t it feel good?”

He nods but doesn’t look up. He can’t bear it. Your weepy eyes filling with tears from the lack of breath, your lips swollen, encasing his cock head. Your hair pulled to one side, giving him a perfect view of your hollowed cheeks as you suck and pull at him. With your spit coating his cock, the sensitivity has doubled. Wet, schlucking sounds fill his bedroom, alongside your haughty moans. Or wait…that’s actually him moaning like that. He doesn’t even recognize himself, he’s panting, sweating, begging. He didn’t even realize he was talking but the praises have been spilling from him continuously:

Yes

Baby yes just like that

Fuck you’re so good

You’re so pretty

Fuck you’re doing so good

Feels so good

Baby

Fuck

Sugar

So pretty

So good

I can’t I

Please baby make me

Fuck you’re

Agh

Oh

Fu

Oh

Ah

O

I

All he can manage by the time he looks back at you are open vowel sounds. It’s feels fucking incredible, perfect, if this were three months ago he would have cum in an instant. This was the closest he had felt, but it still wasn’t enough. He had to be inside you. The hand keeping your hair back rounded your face, his thumb pushing against your lips.

“I need to fuck you.” He says breathlessly, “I won’t cum until I fuck you, please.”

You pull off of him, a little disappointed that you wouldn’t get to brag about your head game, but you push it aside and join him on the bed. Clingy as he is, he pulls you close, kissing you hard again. Your mouth is wet with saliva and pre cum. He didn’t have the time to be impressed at your skill bringing forth the pearly substance, he coveted so greatly. He was too focused on being as close as two people can be. You move to straddle his lap, but he shakes his head, breaking from your lips.

“Bend over.” His mouth is wet now, both of you wet from lips to chin.

You grin and climb off him, stacking a few pillows to give you something to rest on and presenting your hips to him. Satoru is getting his bearings back, he feels more in control now that he has moved onto his knees behind you. Desperate as he is he can’t resist brushing two feather light fingers down your spine, watching you arch as he drags them further and further down. Your spine snakes, your hips sway, his fingers find the cleft where your spine meets your ass, a perfectly little dimple, waiting for his hands to paw at, your breathy moan eggs him on, sliding further down, feeling your tight asshole clench from just the lightest of contact.

“You remember when you let me back here?” He circles it, reminiscing, “you were so tight. fuck, you felt so good baby.”

“Remember when you let me back there.” You tried to sound tough but your position bent over with your head buried in your hands made it difficult.

“Mmmmhm.” He felt his dick twitch again, remembering when you had fingered him open, sucking him in tandum, he swore he saw an angel that night.

And here you were again, having rushed over in the middle of the night just to help him, trembling under his fingertips. Maybe you really were an angel. His very own guardian angel. If anyone could bed a steward of the divine it would be him.

“I thought you needed my help.” You whined.

He giggles, leaning over you, close enough that his lips touch your ear, his heavy cock pressing against your slit,“Just making sure you’re as needy as I am.”

He runs his tongue over the shell of your ear, making you squeal. Of course he remembered all your sensitive spots. He returned to his knees behind you, spreading you open, marveling at the mess you had made. Dripping honey onto the bed, onto your thighs, on his hand. His mouth floods, the desire to bury his head between your legs quickly matching his desire to cum.

“Later.” You whimpered, having read his mind, “you need my help.”

He beams, “so selfless.”

Finally, after an hour of build up since your arrival, the agonizing time waiting for you to get here, and the two months of celibacy that had brought him here, he aligned himself at your drooling hole, your spit was still shining along his cock but he ran either side though your folds anyway, making sure he was wet enough. He had fucked enough and had a big dick for long enough that he knew taking it all required some specific anatomy or a lot of prep, usually both. And while you were familiar with him, and giving yourself so willingly to him, he didn’t actually want to hurt you.

“Satoru please just—-“

The rest of your sentence would never see the air of his bedroom. It’s conclusion stolen from you and replaced with a pathetic scream as he pushed inside. He had meant to ease in but as soon as he started he couldn’t stop himself, he bottomed out in his first thrust. A loud smack of your ass hitting his hips still resounded in the room as he pulled back and thrusted in again. Your back arched evilly, dangerously close to snapping your spine in half. Despite his tunnel vision, Satoru eased his hand up your back, effortlessly smoothing it and gripping your shoulder for more leverage.

“Yes! Oh fuck yes.” He grunted, thrusting in an evil pace.

You couldn’t even speak, he was so deep, you were willing to bet his made an impression agains the front of your stomach. On your pillow pedastule you sank further, and reached up one formerly supportive hand to grip his on your shoulder.

“Sa…sa…” you panted out, not even able to string his name together.

He moved to long, languid, but devastatingly deep thrusts, the hand on your shoulder holding the side of your neck now, “that’s it, sugar. Say my name. Say my name, baby, come on.”

You tried, you really fucking tried but the letters wouldn’t come, “S—Sa—-sss.”

Your eyes rolled back, crumbling completely into the silken pillowcases, not caring if your spit or tears ruined the fabric. He spanked you once hard, making your head shoot up.

“I said say it.” He grunted.

Cocky for a man who was nearly in tears over the phone because he couldn’t bust.

“Satoru!” You finally spilled, his cock pushing hard against your g spot, “Satoru! Satoru please! Be gentle!”

Now that your voice had found you again it was hard not to beg him for mercy.

“Please baby, please! Fuck that’s so good.” You babbled, bringing a sick smile to his face.

He fucked harder, deeper into you, reveling the way your walls fluttered around him. You were so tight he had initially worried he was going to split you in two. But you are his angel, he should have known better than to deny your divinity. Satoru could hear your moans increasing in pitch and becoming choppy. He reached around your hip, finding the perfect pearl between your lower lips and circling his middle finger around. The clench that followed sent you both keening. His fingers brought forth an orgasm you didn’t think was nearly as close. Your hips shaking, biting into the pillow to keep from screaming.

“No baby, let me hear you.‘I need it.” He panted, not stopping his fingers on your clit or his evil thrusts, seeming deeper and deeper every second.

You tried to lift your head but felt dizzy, your vision wasn’t right, your clit throbbed beautifully but made you aware of how fast your heart was. Gojo pulled out turning you on your back, reinserting himself with a kiss to your cheeks.

“Don’t pass out on me, okay? I need you baby, I need your help. Help me, please.” He thrusted slower, only moving a few inches at a time as your came down from the mind fuzzing orgasm.

You nodded, coming back to yourself, you pulled your legs over his hips, your hands moving down the curves of his body. He slower thrust gave you time to admire him. He really was so beautiful. Looking at the sun and having to look away beautiful. His skin was reddening from effort and arousal, splotchy flushes that still couldn’t take away his perfection. The divots on his shoulders, the smell of his sweat, the taste of his spit. Fucking him felt like being completely encompassed in perfection incarnate. And you couldn’t feel luckier to have the chance to be so. He opened his pleasure screwed up eyes, those glowing blue irises, that contained so much of what everyone thought he was, looking down at you with so much trust, so much vulnerability, your heart lurched into your throat.

“You okay?” Satoru scanned your face.

You nodded, pulling him in to kiss you again, feeling his soft hair under your fingers. You held on as he increased his thrusts again. Speed, depth, power, all of it ramped back up to fainting orgasm levels.

Satoru was on the verge of tears, he couldn’t do without again. He couldn’t not cum one more time. He wouldn’t make it. He would bury himself into any hole you offered him again and again and again until he was free from this. Reaching back and pulling your leg over his shoulder, he allowed himself even deeper into you. He watched your face scrunch up in pleasure, your mouth drop open to catch hot, stolen breath from him. He wanted to make it easier, slotting his lips against yours and kissing you deep, tasting your pleasure. He swooned, his heart felt so tight and full it could burst, he was so grateful for you. For your body, your generosity, your care for him that you made look so simple. He knew he wasn’t an easy person to care about, but it seemed to him like you had never considered it cumbersome. Kissing you he felt the tears long built up by restriction begin to fall, wetting his own cheeks as well as yours.

“Satoru are y—-?” You worried against his lips, your hand in his hair moving from. A harsh grip to a soothing pet.

He shook his head, although you were right, “it’s okay. Thank you. Just thank you.”

He kissed you again and carried on thrusting, long and deep. He found your other hand and took it in his own, interlocking your fingers. Hips hard and fast, the friction not enough, he needed to touch every inch of you with every inch of himself. Your pressed against his chest as you moved to match his thrusts, putting aside the emotions that had arisen and remembering your purpose for being here. He had to break away from the kiss, pushing his forhead against yours, gasping out as you synced your thrusts together.

Oh.

Like a dim lantern in a barren desert, a non phosphorescent illusory light in a cave, the shine of climax came into his view. Still holding your hand, one of your legs over his shoulder, bending your body into a bizzare position, he chased it with everything he could. Drilling himself into your drooly, puffy pussy, again and again, causing you to cry out.

“Baby almost, cum with me, please! Pleasepleaseplease.” He squeezed your hand a bit too hard, your fingers felt cramped.

Well, they would, if you could feel them. And your leg would likely feel strained, if you could feel your hamstring still. But you couldn’t feel anything except the white hot pleasure bursting inside of you everytime he pushed against your gspot. Not breaking away from his hand, your other shot between your legs circling your clit, making you tighten up around him. Satoru cried out, the devilish squeeze of your walls felt like the last barrier between him and total bliss.

“Please baby, please.” He can’t control his voice, he doesn’t care, nothing matters when he is this close, “yes, cum around me. I need it. Cum.”

Your eyes flutter back, your head pushes against the pillow, your body erupts into cooling, overwhelming bliss.

Finally, his torment turns, the ache in his stomach unraveling. He can’t believe it, it’s finally about to be over, he feels your body shake underneath him, your hand gripping his so tightly, your cries filling his bedroom. Just at the precipice Gojo, steals one last look at your pleasure struck face, and he falls.

The lights in his bedroom bloom, swell, and overload. Bulbs bursting as he pumps himself through the most earth shattering orgasm he has ever known. Line after line of thick, long stored cum spilling from him into your waiting cunt. The room is plunged into darkness, he buries his head in your neck, panting hard.

You smile as you feel him filing you, and continue filling you. He had always cum a lot, he joked that it was his lineage begging him for continuation. But this was, beyond. Load after load of hot, desperate cum. He pushed his hips closer to you, his body yearning to become fused to yours. To never separate again.

You move one careful hand up his back, feeling the cooling sweat at his neck, the soft hair at the nape. His breath slows against your skin, but he doesn’t yet push himself off of you, keeping his heavy frame collapsed on you. But you don’t dare complain, committing the heat of his body to memory. The moonlight from the window is now, thanks to his discharge of power, the only light in the room. Your eyes adjust slowly, his features glowing in soft blue-white light. The air in the room is thick and full of both of you. Had you an eternity to indulge yourself in this moment, it would still feel too intangible to recall. But you try anyway.

Once his eyes have stopped spinning in their sockets like some knock out cartoon, Satoru pushes himself off of you, staying inside, just hovering above your body. His misty blue eyes look over every inch of you in a second. Taking in everything about this moment, how your skin reflects the moonlight, your eyes heavy and half lidded with sleep and bliss, your soft smile waiting for him to say something. But he wasn’t ready yet, he pressed his lips to yours again, firm but not desperate. He’s kissed you lavishly and with no burning sense of time. It could be called lazy if it weren’t for the focused decadence behind his mouth. He finally separates, thin silks of spit still unbroken between you two.

You brought your unheld hand to his face, cupping his cheek, watching as his eyes flutter shut. You could see tears drying on his cheeks, overwhelm and gratitude thier origin. The moon brought them forward for your viewing, you swiped a thumb under one eye. They both open under your touch, filling with something unreadable. He let go of your hand, opting to mirror your hold on your face, using one long finger to brush away a hair gelled to your sticky forehead.

“Thank you.” He reiterates, the frantic gratitudes from before nullified into a sincerity that made you nervous despite the juxtoposition of his cock still inside of you.

“Anytime, Satoru.” You can feel your cheeks heat, but your bliss doesn’t waver.

He slid out of you slowly, careful not to jostle his tingling, overstimulated length.

You both are left panting once he has been removed completely. He moved onto his side next to you, on his back, breathing up into the dark ceiling. You realize that you had no way of knowing what time it was. The thoughts of work and responsibility tomorrow we’re beginning to gnaw at the edges of your mind. You should get home soon, leave him to his new sexual freedom. You’d imagine he would be ready to pass out if he wasn’t asleep already. The expulsion of cursed energy enough to knock out the lights, enough to send him comatose.

You should know better than to underestimate him. Gojo sits up, stretching his long arms in front of him, allowing the formerly clenched back muscles to reset. Leaning back against his hands he looks down to you.

“I gotta change the bulbs and reset the fuse box. You wanna stay here? Once I’m done we can go again.” That flirty smile quickly irresistible, “orrrr, if you help me I’ll be done ever faster and I can thank you properly.”

You rolled your eyes, giggling, “I’m still recovering from the last favor I did for you. Come get me when you’re done.”

You settle back into his bed, the luxe duvet the perfect cloud-like weight on your shoulders. The smell of him clinging to every stitch of his sheets.

He moved off the bed, slipping on his underwear and making quick work of changing the burst light bulbs. This wasn’t the first time a miscalculated charge had knocked out the electrical system of his house. He had a private grid, it wasn’t that elegant but between the solar panels on the outside and a small self sustaining aquaphir underneath, it was nearly entirely self sufficient. So it was simple enough to fix when it did happen. When he switched the fuse box, the electric hum returned. Back in his bedroom he found you sleeping, curled up in his bedding, snoring softly. He moves some hair off your shoulder, fingers gentle on your thin, soft skin. Bare except for the duvet pulled over your shoulders. He crouched next to you silently, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek. He was lucky to have you, someone who would help him so readily, so selflessly. Someone he could trust and confide in. It had been a long time since he could trust someone like this. Still standing over you, he watched as your stirred, sleepy eyes opening to take him in, squinting against the refreshed lighting.

“Coming back to bed?” Your sleep riddled voice charmed.

“Oh I’m not done with you yet.” He moved into bed beside you, taking your body in his arms once again, his lips fighting home under your jaw.

He really was insatiable.

YAY!!! I hope y'all enjoyed this one. It was fun to write and fell together really easily. I am a lot less intimidated by writing gojo now. But I would love to hear yall's feedback on how it came off!! PLEASE! again, i have a much longer, more structured idea for him that I am wanting to build up to eventually so i would really love to know what yall think. Doodle <3 <3

[uvobreakmylegs]

Trap

inspired from that one scene from the film The House That Jack Built (tho reader gets a better outcome, all things considered)

Kishibe x female!reader

Warnings: noncon, smut, fingering, groping, kidnapping, captivity, sexual harassment, mentions of gore, mentions of death

Word Count: 13.9k

The bar that you worked at just so happened to be situated close to the main office of the devil hunters, and as a result, a fair amount of your clientele were those same people who worked in Public Safety, usually the ones that were just getting off work and were in desperate need of a drink after spending a work shift witnessing countless horrors.

Despite your job as a bartender not coming close in terms of what they went through, you saw a lot just from witnessing the state they were in when you served them: the exhaustion that had seeped into their bones after they would sit down and the far-off gazes as they relived whatever fresh hell they'd been through before downing the rest of their drinks before calling you for another. Sometimes there were even entrails that covered them which you needed to clean up; it was only possible to do so once you held a spare rag up to your mouth and nose while keeping the dustpan as far away from you as possible before you deposited the remains in the dumpster at the back, after which you would quickly scurry away, eager to escape the awful smell.

It'd be easy to be annoyed with them for things like that, but you kept yourself in line by reminding yourself that they were the ones killing the devils so people like you could live in relative safety. If the price for that was sometimes needing to clean up something gross, you could live with that.

And certainly the last thing the exhausted hunters needed was someone nagging at them about a mess.

You got used to the changing faces, of those who either left or those who had died in the line of duty. More often than not, they simply stopped coming in with no explanation, which was a good indication that they were dead, as the ones who would quit usually ended up telling you their life story: why they got into devil hunting, what had happened since that point and why they now wanted to leave. You would listen – they didn't really want much engagement from you, just for someone to hear them out. At the end of it, the hunter would usually slam down their glass and declare that they were going to quit before heading out the door and you never saw them again.

Though there were often times when they would softly put down their empty glass and decide that they needed to keep with it despite the hardship. The irony that followed was that sometimes those hunters who decided to keep going didn't come in after that.

Even though you could make a good guess as to what had likely happened, you preferred to tell yourself that they had changed their mind immediately after and decided to quit after all. Even if it was a lie you were telling yourself, it was nicer to imagine a happy outcome for them, a future that they could – and should – have had.

And the faces at the bar continued to change.

Except for one.

Kishibe.

During the entirety of your year and a half of working at the bar, the biggest constant was the man who called himself the strongest devil hunter and who always, always came in for a drink once his shift had finally ended.

He was an odd one, to say the least. In terms of looks, he stood out almost immediately from the other devils hunters in large part due to his blonde hair and the recognizable scar that ran from the corner of his mouth and across his left cheek. And in terms of what he was like as a person, from what you could see, his monotone way of speaking and his quiet demeanor was deemed to be unsettling to most who interacted with him. He was also constantly drinking, as on more than one occasion you saw him take a swig of that flask he always carried around right as he entered the bar and then again when he left. That, combined with how much he drank at what became his designated seat at the bar, left you thinking that the fact that his liver was still functioning at his age was nothing short of a miracle.

Speaking to him had been weird at first. You had assumed that he would be like the other hunters who came in on their own, the ones who were in a bad place and were trying to drown out the turbulent feelings inside of them by way of harsh liquor. Those ones didn't want to talk; they just wanted a drink and for you to leave them alone until they needed a refill. With your experience with other hunters and the general vibe that surrounded Kishibe, it seemed like the safest choice to keep your distance from him.

But despite your attempts at creating that space, Kishibe turned out to be eager for a chat whenever you were around.

Though the topics the two of you could discuss were limited, you slowly found yourself warming up to the veteran hunter the more you spoke with him. While it was hard to tell what Kishibe was feeling in general, the fact that he continued to seek out your company told you that, at the very least, he found you to be tolerable. Tolerable enough to ask you questions that were guaranteed to get him boring answers. You doubted that he cared much about what your day had been like before you arrived for your shift or what the results of your off-day shopping trips were; he must have just wanted to hear something about how the average person's normal day went, one that was free of hunting and killing.

Until he told you to stop or he didn't bother to ask anymore, you were happy to oblige.

At that moment, Kishibe was on his third drink, staring down at the dark liquid within the glass with the same blank expression that was always on his face. Just like the other devil hunters that were currently in the bar, he was finished for the day and was getting a few drinks before he'd head home. Though with Kishibe it definitely wouldn't be just a few, and it wouldn't end with whatever he got at the bar.

It was relatively quiet at the moment with the small bits of chatter throughout the room being contained to the tables where the other patrons sat, so there was no need to raise your voice when you spoke to him.

“Kill a lot of devils today?” you asked.

Kishibe glanced up at you before returning his gaze to the glass.

“No, nothing like that today,” he said.

“Oh? Then were you training new recruits again?”

“Some of that,” he answered plainly, “but today I was mostly dealing with paperwork.”

“Ah.”

While you weren't inclined to say paperwork was the worst thing to deal with considering that the man killed monsters for a living, you could easily see how trudging through documents and filling out papers could be an exceptionally mind numbing experience.

“I guess it's too bad that being the best devil hunter doesn't exempt you from the boring parts of the job,” you said.

He shrugged.

“It's something that inevitably comes with any sort of job,” Kishibe told you, raising the glass to his lips after.

You leaned your elbow on the surface of the bar as you asked “did the training with your students go well at least?”

“No,” he answered bluntly.

“Oh. Why not?”

Kishibe waited to reply as he took another swig of his drink before saying “they're motivated by money, which is the worst reason to join Public Safety. Not only that, but they're hopelessly weak as well, which makes training them even more of a waste of time.”

“But the point of training them is to make them stronger, right?” you asked.

“There's no point because they're not cut out for it.”

“Is that you saying that they're not crazy enough?”

“It is.”

“Ah.”

You'd heard him say that before. About how the only people who can make it as devil hunters are the crazy ones and anyone who was too sane was little more than cannon fodder. His words.

Whether or not what he was saying was correct wasn't something you could really judge, but considering how long he'd been at that job, it was possible that there just might be some truth to what he was saying, though you doubted anyone else at Public Safety would be willing to agree with his statement out loud.

“Well,” you began, “maybe they'll surprise you. Maybe they just need a bit more time.”

“Doubtful. You either are cut out for devil hunting or you aren't. And these ones aren't,” said Kishibe.

He took a cursory glance across the room before he added “they'd be more suitable for a job like this one.”

Then he looked back to you as he asked “you need any new workers?”

You shook your head.

“Unfortunately we're all good on staff, so I don't think we can take any of them,” you answered jokingly.

“I see.”

He brought the glass back up to his lips as he said “then I guess they'll be dead soon enough.”

Kishibe spoke those words in that same monotone voice, while part of you wanted to believe that he was just a fan of dark humor, you knew him well enough by now to know that he meant what he said. Whoever these students were, they must have been massively under-performing for his opinion of them to be so low.

“Have you tried talking to them about that?” you then asked.

“I have. They just see it as motivation to prove me wrong,” he said, “I'm not going to bother if all it does it encourage stupid behavior.”

“And you can't speak to anyone higher up about your concerns?”

“Very few apply to work at Public Safety in general, so they'll accept anyone without question.”

“They're that desperate for hunters?”

Kishibe nodded.

You smiled, taking the opportunity to joke as you said “maybe I should apply then, especially if they don't care much about someone's background. It'd probably pay better than what I get from this place.”

In response to that, Kishibe gave you a long, hard look, his glass held in midair as he stared at you. Though his expression remained neutral, you got the sense that he wasn't amused.

“…. I was joking,” you said, “I know that I'm not up for killing devils.”

Just like that, the slight bit of tension that had fallen on the two of you dissipated. and the air felt light once again.

“That's good,” he told you, bringing the glass to his lips before saying “you're smart in knowing your limits.”

“Unlike your students?”

“Yeah.”

With one last swig, he drained what was in the glass. The veteran devil hunter then set it down closer to you, silently asking you for a refill. You obliged, grabbing the nearby bottle you had opened for him earlier and filling up the glass until it reached the brim.

As you put the bottle back on the shelf and while he lifted the glass to his lips once again, you commented “it is nice that you're trying to look out for them.”

He stopped what he was doing, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Even though what you're saying doesn't seem all that kind, you must really be worried about them if you're that insistent that they need to quit,” you clarified, “I can only imagine how tired you are of seeing those white grave markers multiplying every time you go to that graveyard.”

The expression on his face remained blank after you said that, which, of course, made it hard to read just how he felt about your statement. But when he averted his gaze and took that sip of his newly poured drink, you took it to mean that you were correct.

Kishibe was pretty open, after all. If you were wrong, he would have said so. You felt certain of that.

“But maybe don't give up on them just yet,” you added, “like I said, they might surprise you.”

“….. I'll consider it.”

You smiled at that. That was as big of a win that you could get when it came to Kishibe, who no doubt had an issue of being stubborn due to age.

You really hoped those students would be able to prove him wrong.

There wasn't any more time to dwell on the matter, however, as a few more men walked in at that moment and took their seats at the bar, waiting to be served. The small moment that you had to chat with your most regular customer had come to a close, at least for now. Even if Kishibe spent a lot when he visited the bar, you would get in trouble if you ignored other customers in favor of speaking with him.

Even if this wasn't the greatest job in the world, you didn't want to face the terror of unemployment.

…. Was there such a thing as an unemployment devil? You'd need to ask Kishibe later, if you remembered.

It picked up quite a bit after that, with a more steady stream of patrons filling the seats and orders for drinks flowing in. As such, you were too busy to continue any form of conversation with Kishibe; the most words that were shared between the two of you were your affirmations when he called you over to refill his glass. And the hours would manage to pass in that way.

It was the same way it usually went. Another busy night where your feet would definitely be aching by the time you got back home.

It was near the end of your shift when Kishibe called you over to ask for his bill, settling up before he headed out for the night, presumably to wherever it was he called 'home'. The time he did so was as usual, as was the rather high bill he had racked up during the hours he'd spent chugging down drinks. He barely reacted to the high amount you had printed out for him, his face staying as blank as always as he fished out the amount needed from his wallet.

“Heading home?” you asked him.

“In a bit,” he said, “need to take care of something first.”

“I hope it's not work related; I doubt you'd be in any condition for late night devil murdering.”

“Even if it was, I'd be fine.”

You raised your eyebrows at that, but otherwise said nothing to disagree with him. If he noticed that reaction of yours, he chose not to comment on it as he handed you what he owed.

“You get off soon, don't you?” he then asked.

“Yeah, why?” you asked back absentmindedly as you placed the money in the register.

“Did you walk or drive here?”

“Oh, I usually walk,” you answered, “my place isn't too far away.”

“Will you be alright heading home by yourself at this hour?”

You smiled as you nodded at him, answering “I'll be fine. I've walked that route dozens of times and I've never had any issues. Plus, there's hardly anyone around this time of night.”

Kishibe nodded slowly once you answered, and while he spoke again just to say “that's good, then”, he said it more to himself than to you.

Shutting the register, you looked back to him as you asked “but what about you? Are you walking? I feel like it'd be dangerous if you got behind the wheel of a car right now.”

“I usually walk, too,” he told you, “both the business I need to take care of and my place are close enough.”

“I see. Well, I hope you have a good rest of your night.”

“Same to you.”

With nothing else to be said, Kishibe began to make his way out of the bar, remaining surprisingly steady as he walked to the door. You weren't sure if his tolerance for alcohol was something else, or if he was just really really good at pretending to be sober.

As he walked out, you noted the reactions of the other devil hunters as he passed them by. A majority of the ones who were still present stiffened when he did so, conversations turning quiet until he was out of earshot. Some were clearly nervous with him being so close. And then there were others who looked at him, trying to make eye contact so they could have some small bit of a good interaction in wishing him well for the night by way of a brief farewell.

Kishibe didn't pay attention to any of them, and when the door shut behind him, the visible tension in the nervous hunters lessened instantly, a collective sigh of relief hitting them.

Seeing that sort of reaction was another thing that had felt weird at first.

Despite the fact that he was constantly drinking, none of the other devil hunters regarded Kishibe as being an old drunken fool as you might have expected. Conversations would quiet down once he walked through the doors, anyone who had begun to get a little too rowdy cutting it out the moment they realized he was there. Kishibe wasn't interested in interacting with any of them, however. Once he had sat down, his only focus was on downing the many drinks he would order while he made conversation with you.

Those sorts of reactions were probably due to the respect that the other devil hunters felt for him. But it was respect mixed with something else:

Fear.

As you only ever saw Kishibe within the small space of the bar, you had no idea what he was truly like when he was out hunting devils. While you could make a guess of how strong he was based on his general aura and the way the others regarded him, you were limited to him when he was in that seat chugging down drinks like no tomorrow.

There was only time where you had gotten an inkling as to what he was capable of, and you hadn't even been around to witness it.

A while back and on a rare night where Kishibe was absent, a devil hunter who was relatively new to the job and had only recently started going to the bar with his colleagues made an impulsive decision when he was tipsy and had smacked you on the ass as you were walking by his table. The hit had been so hard and unexpected that you ended up dropping a tray full of drinks, and the glasses you'd been carrying shattered on the floor alongside the spilled liquor.

When you told the guy to get out he scoffed at you, and at that moment there wasn't much you could do other than clean up the mess while one of your coworkers got a refill for the orders that had spilled. By the time all of that was done, the group the guy had been with had left, one of the others paying for their bill while the guy snickered at you. That, along with the way your boss had berated you after for spilling the drinks despite your explanation, had caused that night to be a bad one for you. It was bad enough that it was still affecting you the next day, leaving you somber through your shift.

Kishibe noticed your mood almost immediately, and after some prying on his part, you told him what had happened. After getting the full story, his expression stayed level as it always did, and it made you sad as you thought that he didn't care about what had happened to you.

But then he asked you for a description of the man who had hit you as well as the ones who had accompanied him. That had surprised you, but you still gave him the information he wanted. Kishibe left soon after and much earlier in the night than he usually did.

Truthfully, you hadn't expected much to come from any of it. Maybe at most the bar owner would receive a letter of apology and some small bit of compensation for the spilled drinks as well as the group promising to be on better behavior. And even then, you weren't really interested in any of that. All you had really wanted was for someone to agree that the entire situation was unfair for you. Kishibe hadn't even done that, so your somber mood remained even after your shift ended.

You weren't expecting to see the guy who'd hit you so soon after that.

A few days later, shortly after you had come in, the devil hunter who had so brazenly smacked you entered the bar and gave you a formal apology, promising that he would never bother you again. The entire thing was very short, as he didn't bother making any excuses or tried to blame his actions on the alcohol. He simply apologized, left an envelope full of money as compensation for what you had dropped and then exited the bar.

Despite his apology to you, he couldn't look you in the face, and there was a distinct haunted look in his gaze as he stared at anything other than you, as though he was terrified of making direct eye contact with you.

Neither that man or the group he had been with ever entered the bar again, and when Kishibe came in that same evening, he didn't mention anything. You didn't ask about it, either. Whatever it was that he had done to get that result, you decided that you didn't want to know just in case the answer was something that would keep you up at night. Even if it wasn't something gruesome or morally questionable, it was simply easier to pretend that the incident hadn't happened.

At least those previously rowdy devil hunters were a bit more well-behaved from that point onward.

Late on the next Tuesday night, you found yourself alone as you were the last one clocking out, and therefore the one who needed to do the final clean up and shutting down of the bar. Luckily for you, Tuesdays were always slow and there was never much of a mess to take care of, so despite the late hour you were in good spirits as you exited the building, locking the door at the back while you thought of what you were going to do from here.

Your thoughts went to a new video game you had bought, having only had enough time to play a little bit before you had started your shift that day. While normally you may have felt the current time was too late for something like that, you had tomorrow off, so it didn't feel like a horrible idea to stay up late on your computer. It was very likely that all of your day off would be dedicated to playing the game.

But you were jumping too far ahead. You hadn't even gotten to tomorrow yet, you told yourself. Focus on getting home right now.

You walked along quiet streets as you did just that, at one point zipping your hoodie fully up as the chill of the night air was more uncomfortable than you were expecting. At least you wouldn't need to be out here long, though you still bemoaned the fact that you had forgotten to bring your gloves with you. The only solution you had was stuffing your hands into your pockets in an effort to keep them warm.

As was expected for how late it was, the street you were walking on was virtually abandoned. Any people that you did catch sight of could only be seen on adjacent streets that you passed, all of whom were minding their own business as they hastily made their way to wherever they needed to be. You were in the same camp as they were, and your pace increased as all you wanted in that moment was to get home where you'd be able to relax and unwind.

One walkway you passed by was particularly loud, and you caught sight of a group of businessmen who were chatting with one another. From what you could see, they had been out drinking. Socializing for work, more than likely.

So it wasn't a surprise when you rounded the corner of a turn you needed to make and you saw what at first appeared to be another businessman in the distance, moving about oddly as he walked towards you. With the distance between the two of you and the fact that you had only spared him a brief glance at first, you assumed that he was one with that group, making his way back for one reason or another.

But as the person was walking in your direction, you were compelled to look up at him as he came closer.

It wasn't a businessman at all.

And as the picture before you became clearer as the person continued walking towards you, your pace slowed before you came to a stop as recognition turned to confusion upon realizing just who it was on the path before you.

Your most loyal regular at the bar, Kishibe, was out on the sidewalk by himself. His height, hair and the scar on his face made it easy to identify him. That he was out at night wasn't much of a surprise, but what made you confused was the fact that he was stumbling, barely able to keep himself upright as he went forward. The only explanation for him to move in such a way was that he was drunk.

You were in disbelief. How was that even possible? You'd seen that man consume enough alcohol that it should've been fatal and it had never affected him, yet now he wasn't even able to walk in a straight line – just how fucking much did he have to drink to get that way?

When he nearly fell to the pavement was when you snapped out of your stupor.

Holy fuck

“Kishibe!”

You ran over to where he was leaning against an adjacent wall, lightly placing your hand on his back as a way to help steady him while you asked “are you alright?”

He turned his head to look at you, and after a moment, he shook his head.

“Let me lean on you,” he mumbled.

Taking hold of one of his arms, you did your best to keep him standing as he got his feet firmly beneath him.

“Do you need to go to the hospital? I can call an ambulance,” you said.

“Hospital? No,” he answered, “just get me back to my apartment.”

“I don't know where that is.”

By that point he had his arm over your shoulder, though he was swaying far more than you were comfortable with. Still shaken by how he had nearly fallen moments ago and worried that he could still end up tumbling onto the pavement, you ended up grabbing ahold of his waist in an attempt to keep him steady. Although if he was really going to fall, you had a bad feeling that he would just end up taking you down with him.

You really hoped that wouldn't happen; ending your night by having one or both of you getting a concussion was something you wanted to avoid.

Kishibe had reached a hand into his pocket and had pulled out his cellphone, his fingers seemingly not cooperating when he attempted to put in his passcode. After a few failed attempts at unlocking it, the screen turned brighter as he got in and within a few moments, he had typed in an address and held it in front you.

Your mind blanked before you took the phone from him with an “okay.”

Looking at the screen, you found that the location put in was only fifteen minutes away from where you currently stood. That wasn't too bad, but as you glanced over again to Kishibe and the state he was in, you worried that the short walk would be too much for him right now. If he lost his balance again you didn't think you had the strength to keep him up on your own, and if he passed out there was no way you'd be able to drag him to his apartment. Plus if he hurt himself you'd probably need to call an ambulance, which would be a whole other mess that would likely see you waiting in the hospital for hours.

“Are you sure you want to walk there? With how you're doing right now, I think it might be better if we call a ride for you,” you told him.

“No.”

“But the idea of you walking seems dangerous.”

“You really think anyone will let me into their car with how I am now?” he countered.

Ah. That was true. Kishibe was only still standing up right now because you were supporting him. And not only was he unsteady, but he also reeked of alcohol. Any driver would see him and refuse to let him in out of fear that they'd need to clean his vomit out of their car afterwards.

So the only option was to walk him back?

….. This sucks.

It was late, you'd been on your feet for hours, your fingers were still numb from the cold and you were tired. You'd been looking forward to your plans for when you got back and yet you needed to be the one to deal with this?

Despite saying none of that out loud, Kishibe seemed perceptive to what you were thinking as he said “I know it's inconvenient, but I'd appreciate it if you would help me out.”

“…..”

…. Well now you felt like an asshole.

Kishibe needed help and you were trying to get out of it, and now he was aware that you were trying to get out of it. The fact that he needed to push to get you to help him wasn't good at all. And all of it was just so you could go home and play a video game?

Why were you like this?

With that, you forced a smile onto your face as you said “of course. It's only a short walk, right?”

He nodded.

Readjusting the hold you had on him, you kept the smile on your face as you continued with “plus, maybe the walking will help you feel better.”

“Maybe.”

As the you began to walk him back, heading in the direction that was directly opposite of your apartment, you told yourself that this could always be worse. Kishibe wasn't being loud or aggressive, which you appreciated. While you were stuck with his arm around you and the pace at which you traveled was painfully slow, it would have been a lot worse if he'd insisted that you help him while also being belligerent about it.

At least he was a pretty chill drunk, even if the way he wobbled in your grip still made your stress levels rise every time it felt like he was about to lose his balance.

“If you need to stop to rest a little, we can do that. Just let me know, okay?”

He nodded after you told him that, but with the vacant stare in his eye, you wondered how much he had really heard.

Oh well.

As the two of you went by the path you had passed previously which was full of the businessmen, you found that it was empty now. Either they were getting more drinks somewhere else or they were going home. Though as you took one last glance in that general area, you caught sight of a tiny bit of movement at the base of the building, your eyebrows furrowing until you realized what you were looking at.

“Gross,” you commented.

“Hm?”

“Cockroach.”

Kishibe hummed in response.

“I'm surprised it's still alive in this weather,” you said, “I would've thought the cold would have gotten to it.”

“They're good at finding ways to survive.”

It was good that he was speaking to you. As you were still worried at the thought of him passing out while in the middle of the way home, you figured that continuing to speak would probably be best; whatever you could think of as long as he stayed lucid enough to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

With the sight of the bug from moments ago, at least there was an easy topic of conversation to have.

“Is there a cockroach devil?” you asked.

He closed his eyes as he nodded slowly.

“We don't have control of it, though,” he then told you.

“Good thing I'm not afraid of cockroaches, then. Wouldn't want to make your enemies stronger,” you said.

You paused as you readjusted the grip you had around his waist before you added “I am pretty scared of spiders, though. Is that an issue?”

“Public Safety has control of the spider devil. If anything, I would encourage you to be more afraid of spiders. That way she'll be stronger,” answered Kishibe.

“Okay,” you answered, laughing a little as you said “though maybe I don't want to be too afraid of them. It'd be a different kind of issue if she became too tough and decided to run off to do her own thing, right?”

He shook his head.

“That's impossible.”

“Why's that?”

“Because if she tried that, I'd hunt her down and take her out,” he said simply.

“You're sure you'd be successful with that?” you asked.

“Of course. I'm the strongest devil hunter there is,” Kishibe told you.

“That might be true,” you said, “but if a devil were to come for you as you are right now, I'm worried you wouldn't be able to do much.”

“I'd handle it.”

“…. You can't even walk on your own.”

“I'd handle it,” he insisted.

Despite his tone, you were skeptical. After all, you were the only one keeping him upright at that moment. Still, it was better to let it go. Just treat it like you're at work, you told yourself. Work that you wouldn't be getting paid for, but work nonetheless. Even though this wasn't the way you wanted your night to end, reminding yourself that you had the day off tomorrow helped in making you feel better about it.

Walking to Kishibe's apartment took about an extra eight minutes due to his slow pace, and there was only so much you could do to get him to move faster while still being polite about it. If only you had the strength to pick him up and carry him, it could've gone so much faster.

At the very least it would have made for a funny scene, at least from an outsider's perspective.

You did your best to stay positive, and you continued to ask him questions as a way to make sure he was still conscious as you escorted him back home. Though after your conversation about the spider devil, Kishibe only answered in grunts or hums, but at least he was still able to answer you. That was a good thing, at least. As long as he was conscious and able to continue walking, that was good.

When you caught sight of Kishibe's apartment building and noted the tall flights of stairs that decorated the sides, you frowned. And when you asked him which floor you needed to get him too, you groaned internally when he answered that his unit was on the fourth floor.

Of course you needed to get him up several flights of stairs.

You didn't want to think about just how long it took the two of you to get up the stairs, nor did you want to think about the times you needed to help him lift up his own feet so he could ascend those stairs with you. By the time you reached the door of his unit, you felt well and truly exhausted from the ordeal, and you wanted nothing more than for him to unlock the door and go inside so you could go back home.

Except Kishibe handed you the key to his door.

Of course it couldn't be that simple.

You couldn't even get him to go in on his own, as when you turned the handle and opened the door to his unit, his weight suddenly bore down on you, pushing you into the darkened apartment with him following after and only managing to regain his footing once he was inside. Even then he stumbled backwards after, his arm hitting the open door and forcing it back shut when he fell against it.

“Are you okay?!”

All you heard in response to your worried question was a grunt that seemed like he was trying to indicate 'yes', which lessened your panic a little, though it'd be nicer to be able to see him. In the pitch dark of the apartment, you reached for a nearby wall as you searched for a light switch. After several moments of blindly pressing your hand all over the surface of the wall, you found it, and you needed to shut your eyes once the overhead light turned on as you needed to adjust to the sudden brightness.

Once you were able to see, what greeted you was what appeared to be a sparsely decorated apartment that only seemed rather ominous as the rest of the lights within the space had also been left off. From what you were able to see in your current position, you caught sight of a darkened living room area, and beyond that, a sliding door that opened up to small balcony. There was a couch in the living room, right? You could just leave him there, couldn't you?

Please let me leave now, you silently begged.

“Could you get me to the bedroom?”

Despite how he mumbled his words, you heard him clearly. Looking back to where you'd left him, you were dismayed to find that he was still drunk out of his mind. He still had his back leaning against the surface of the door, and it seemed that was all that was keeping him upright. With the way he was blocking the way out, it meant you'd need to move him, and more than likely you'd need to escort him further, this time to his bedroom.

Once you saw him at your next shift at the bar, you'd need to ask what exactly he'd done to get himself that fucked up. That, or maybe he could just give you a really nice tip for all of the effort spent getting him home safe.

But you made yourself smile at him as you said “sure. Just hang on for a second, okay? I'm gonna turn on some lights so the two of us aren't stumbling around in the dark. I'll be right back.”

A pair of hazy looking dark eyes glanced in your direction after you spoke, and he nodded in understanding. With that, you placed both his phone and the keys to the apartment on a small table that sat in the small hallway before slipping off your shoes and making your way further into his unit. It took a few tries, more than a few moments of turning on light switches before you hastily turned them off once you saw that you had entered a room that you didn't need, but not long after you found what you were looking for: the bed Kishibe needed to pass out on top of.

The bedroom matched the apartment in that it looked rather plain, almost like Kishibe didn't spend a lot of time here. It made sense; with how much he must have on his plate as a devil hunter he probably didn't have the time to decorate his living space. He just needed some place where he could eat, clean himself and then sleep soundly at the end of each day before he returned to his work.

The queen sized bed did look – and feel – rather nice, you felt compelled to note. He must have spent a lot on that to have a good night's sleep.

With your goal of finding where you needed to take him achieved, you returned to the main hallway to retrieve Kishibe. He was where you left him, once more looking dazed as he stared down at the floor beneath his feet. Your gaze traveled down as well, and when you saw the tied up laces of his shoes, you came to a realization.

“Are you going to be able to untie those?” you asked, pointing down at them.

“Probably not.”

At this point you weren't able to be annoyed; it wasn't entirely unexpected given his current state. Just another thing you needed to take care of for him, but at least it wouldn't be as difficult as helping him stumble his way up the stairs.

Do a few things more to help him and then you can go home.

Kneeling down on the surface of the entryway, you reached for the laces of one of his shoes. He didn't say anything as you undid the knots. When you asked him to lift his foot up once they were loosened, he did as you told him and you pulled the shoe off of him, placing it down and out of the way before repeating the process with the other. Again, he said nothing, but you felt those blank brown eyes staring down at you the entire time.

After getting his shoes off, you gently grabbed him by his shoulder and moved him away from the door. Immediately he was back to leaning on you, this time with his nose in your hair. You could feel his breath on your head, followed by the sound of his voice as he let out a content hum.

This was so fucking awkward. He definitely owed you after this.

“Kishibe,” you began, “just a little more walking and then you can rest, okay?”

He grunted again as you once again led him while his weight bore down on you.

With his face still in your hair, you heard the moment when, in the middle of making your way to the bedroom, he inhaled deeply. The sound of that and the feeling forced you to come to a stop.

And after letting out a short breath, you continued to walk with him.

He's drunk, you told yourself. Extremely shit-faced, over the top blackout drunk. He probably wouldn't remember any of this come tomorrow, and while you weren't enjoying this, it'd be better to keep your relationship with him positive. You didn't need to mention any of the creepy parts; just how much you had done to help him.

He'd better be appreciative.

A feeling relief washed over you when you finally got him into the bedroom, the bed only a few feet away.

Pulling forward, you saw this as the final hurdle. Just get him onto the bed. That was all you needed to do, and then you could go home and collapse onto your own not-as-comfortable mattress that had been all you could afford.

You tried to move him so he would lay down on his back, and then you could gently let him go. You didn't really want to bother trying to get him actually into the bed; that seemed like it would take even more time and would be even more of a hassle. No, just getting him on there was enough.

“Alright, here we go.”

Kishibe was supposed to let go as you maneuvered him in front of you. Once he felt the edge of the mattress against the back of his legs, he should've understood that he was safe to fall backwards and that he needed to let you go.

But the arm he had wrapped around your back stayed in place, and when gravity finally won the battle and began to pull him down, you were brought down with him.

A short cry escaped your lips as you ended up on the bed with him, pressed tightly to his chest with your lower half hanging off the mattress.

Goddammit

“I'm sorry,” you began, “I didn't mean for that to happen.”

“Hm.”

You weren't sure of what to make of the way he hummed when you said that, largely because all you wanted in that moment was to get off of him. Bracing your arm on the mattress, you pushed your weight onto it as you tried to get off of him and escape the awkward situation.

Only the arm he had around you wasn't budging.

When a few moments passed with you desperately trying to leave the bed only to have your efforts thwarted by the surprisingly strong grip he had on you, you looked back to him as you asked “Kishibe, could you let me go? I can't get up.”

“Why do you want to get up?” he asked.

“Um, because I need to go home?” you said, surprised that you even needed to clarify that.

“It's late; you should spend the night here.”

“That's okay. I'm sure your couch is comfortable, but I'd really rather sleep in my own bed,” you told him.

“Who said anything about you sleeping on the couch?”

His question made you blink.

“I…. Where else would I…..”

Your question trailed off as you glanced at the mattress you were currently on top of, and a sick feeling began to form in your stomach. A feeling that grew stronger with every moment that passed with his arm still wrapped around you.

“Kishibe, please let go of me,” you said.

“Why?”

“Because I don't like this and I want to go home.”

Again you tried to pull yourself up, and again, Kishibe kept you pressed to his chest.

“Please,” you said again, “I don't want to spend the night-”

You were cut off when you felt his other hand move. Instead of joining the one wrapped around your back, his free hand went down to cup your ass as he blatantly groped you.

Shock and revulsion shot through you and when you struggled again against the grip he had on you, it was with far more force and desperation.

“Let go of me,” you said, “now!”

Again, he only hummed in response.

But that time he actually did let you go, removing his arms and letting them fall to the mattress.

You pulled off immediately, getting to your feet and taking a few steps back in record time, breathing heavily as the brief burst of adrenaline was still running through you. Kishibe remained splayed out on the bed with his legs still hanging off the side. He was still staring at you, however.

After taking in another deep breath, you spoke.

“Rest up and get sober,” you began, “and then when we see each other next, I'd appreciate it if you could come to the bar with an apology.”

You then turned and walked out the door, deciding to leave it at that. Though you noted to yourself that he may very well not remember what you had said or what had happened. As you had told yourself earlier, he was drunk. But even then you didn't intend to back down on this. Even if he didn't remember, at the very least you deserved some form of the word 'sorry' for how he had held you down and tried to coerce you into sleeping with him. Regardless of if his actions were caused by the alcohol, you needed that after he had ignored you the first few times you had told him to let you go.

As long as you could get that, you'd be happy to go back to how your relationship was before, with him as a customer and with the solid surface of the bar separating the two of you.

Returning to the entryway, you quickly collected your shoes and slipped them back on before you prepared yourself for the walk back home. It was late, but you'd probably be okay as long as you hurried back. You probably didn't have the energy for your game, as you'd thought before, so it'd be straight to bed for you once you returned.

As long as you could get a good night's sleep, that was enough.

With that thought in mind, you stood before the front door as you reached for the handle, turned and then pulled it.

The door didn't budge.

“Huh?”

You tried again, turning it again and pulling, just to have the same thing happen.

Maybe I'm turning the handle wrong, you briefly thought, only for your brows to furrow when your attempts to turn the handle upwards resulted in nothing. That wasn't right. Clearly the way you had been trying was correct.

So why wasn't the door opening?

Taking your gaze away from the handle, you noticed something that you had missed earlier: in place of a bolt or a chain on the upper part of the door, there was instead a lock which required a key to open it. Was that really what was keeping you in here?

… It's okay, you told yourself. You left the keys on the table right behind you. One of those would open it.

Your attempts to quell the bad feeling brewing within you were unsuccessful, as when you turned to reach for the keys that you had placed only minutes earlier, you found that they were gone.

….. Were they still there when you had gone back to get Kishibe after turning on the lights? You couldn't remember.

Speaking of Kishibe, he would be the reason why they were gone, right? Thinking back to when you had been searching for the bedroom, that would have given him more than enough time to take the keys and then lock the door. When else would he have been able to do that?

But why would he do that?

“What exactly am I supposed to apologize for?”

Hearing his voice made you jump, and you turned your gaze towards where Kishibe had emerged from as he strolled out into the hallway at a leisurely pace, ending with him leaning against the wall. His large black coat was gone, leaving him clad in his white shirt, black pants and his tie that he had loosened during the time that you had left him alone. In one hand he held his flask, and he unscrewed it to take a long gulp of whatever was in there before he looked back to you, those same blank eyes staring straight at you as he waited for an answer to his question.

He didn't seem quite so inebriated now. He was walking just fine and his gaze was zeroed in on you.

“…. Kishibe, why is the door locked?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing as you stood still within the entryway.

“Because I locked it,” he answered plainly.

“Wh-why?”

“Because I don't want you going out.”

The veteran hunter took another swig from his flask before adding “it's dangerous out there, especially at night. You're much safer inside with me.”

“That's….. That's nice, but I'd really rather go home,” you said.

“Why? Is your cheap apartment really that great?”

His comment made you blink in surprise – you'd never mentioned it, so how in the world did he know anything about your apartment?

“I'd feel a lot more comfortable if I could go back there, yeah,” you told him, “so could you please unlock the door? I don't want to be here any longer.”

Kishibe hummed.

“That's too bad. Because I've decided that you'll be staying here from now on,” he declared.

“….. You can't do that.”

“I just did.”

Kishibe stood to his full height, and that was enough to make you back away until you found yourself pressed against the door, holding your hands to your chest as your heart rate increased. What was happening? Why was this happening? He seemed fine now, despite the state he'd been in – had all of that been a ruse just to get you into his apartment?

Why?

“I don't understand.”

Your words came out hushed, barely able to come out around the blockage in your throat.

“You don't? I would've thought understanding it would be pretty simple,” he said.

He stepped forward, closing the distance between you swiftly and with ease as he told you “you're not leaving. I'm keeping you here so you'll be safe.”

“Safe? From what?”

“Everything.”

Kishibe was standing directly before you now, looming over you as he continued with “humans, devils and whatever else; you won't need to fear them anymore. Nothing will come for you as long as you have me.”

He reached a hand up in a move that looked as though he intended to cup your cheek as he said “all I ask in return is that you do as I say.”

The rough skin of his hands made contact with your cheek as you said nothing in response.

You needed this to be a joke.

You needed to him to take a few more moments for comedic effect before he revealed that he wasn't being serious, be that in the form of the words “just kidding” or “gotcha” or something that told you that the reality of the situation wasn't what you thought it was. Even though this entire scenario was completely abnormal for Kishibe, a man who always seemed serious, you needed him to tell you that it was just a fucked up prank, that he just wanted to mess with you.

It didn't feel in line with the man you had grown to know, but you needed that to be the case.

Except Kishibe never said such a thing to you, instead keeping his hand on your cheek and softly rubbing against your skin, his calloused touch feeling surprisingly gentle.

His thumb then moved across your bottom lip and that sent a jolt down your spine.

You pushed his hand away as you said “this isn't funny.”

“It's not supposed to be,” he told you.

You shook your head.

“You're being weird and you're playing a prank or something stupid like that, but I don't like this and I want to leave.”

Kishibe only hummed at that, which only left you feeling worse.

“Stop this, please,” you said, desperation tinting your voice as you said “the joke has gone on long enough and I want you to let me out.”

But he still didn't say anything further. All he did was stare down at you with a look on his face that you couldn't read while his presence was quickly becoming overwhelming.

Seconds were ticking by and nothing was happening. Kishibe was still standing over you. He wasn't backing away like you wanted. He wasn't agreeing with your assessment that this entire thing was a joke, like you wanted. And he wasn't producing the key and letting you out of what had become a deeply uncomfortable and unsettling scene with him.

The longer it went on, the harder it became for you to breathe, all the while the sick feeling that surrounded you only grew more intense as you were slowly forced to accept the reality of the situation:

He wasn't joking.

And you were helpless.

How long of a period had passed before he spoke again, you had no idea. Too wrapped up in your thoughts and growing fear, it easily could have been minutes or seconds. But you were snapped out of your thoughts instantly when you heard his low voice once more.

“You didn't answer my question earlier: what am I supposed to apologize for?” he asked again.

“For…… For touching me. Grabbing me like you did in the bedroom,” you hesitantly answered.

“I don't see why I should apologize for that.”

Kishibe tilted his head slightly as he continued with “you belong to me now. Why shouldn't I be able to do whatever I want with you?”

His words settled in your mind, your pulse beating rapidly as your mind raced.

Then you screamed.

As loud and as hard as your vocal chords were capable of, you screamed for help as he continued to loom over you. It wasn't brave or noble, but there was nothing else you could do to fight him off. You were too weak for anything like that.

Screaming was all you could do.

The screams for help that tore out of your throat come out with such ferocity that you managed to be surprised initially. Never in your life could you remember the volume of your own voice reaching such levels, but you'd also never been in a situation like this one. You turned away from him in order to pound at the door as you continue to call for help, hoping that the extra noise will help to get someone's attention – be it of one of his neighbors or a passerby on the street – just as long as it's someone who'll call the police. If you can just get one person to inform the authorities that something's wrong, then you'll get out of this.

Just one person with a phone and an idea of where you were. And maybe, just maybe, a group of well-intentioned people who might be brave enough to burst down the door to get to you. Even if Kishibe was strong, he could only take so many opponents at once, right?

Your throat was aching and the way you slammed your hand against the door was became weaker as the pain that shot through your hand was beginning to become too much, but you kept up with it. You needed help. You needed someone to know what was happening before Kishibe shut you up.

…. Before he shut you up?

It hit you then: through all that time of you desperately making a racket and being as loud as possible, Kishibe hadn't once made any effort to keep you quiet.

He still wasn't.

With tears still rolling down your cheeks and your hand still balled up in a fist on the door, the cries that had so forcefully come from your mouth came to an end as you glanced back at him.

He was taking another swig from that flask. Completely at ease and unbothered at your desperate attempt to seek help. You watched in disbelief as his Adam's apple bobbed as the harsh liquor ran down his throat before he pulled the flask away from his lips, just as leisurely screwing the cap back on before the metal container once again disappeared into his pocket.

Kishibe looked at you.

Then he glanced up at the ceiling.

You followed his gaze, and while you didn't see anything odd with the plain white surface above you two, you noticed that something was amiss:

Someone above you was blasting music loud enough that you could almost make out the lyrics of the song that was playing.

…. It hadn't been that way when you first entered the apartment. Nor had it been the case when you had first tried to leave. You would have heard that, would have noted something like that immediately. Which only meant…..

The realization sank in as you looked up to the ceiling in horror, coming to the conclusion that in the middle of your screaming and banging, the person directly above you had heard, and made the decision to play the loud music in an attempt to drown you out so they didn't need to listen anymore.

They didn't want to help you.

“It doesn't sound like they're going to do anything,” Kishibe said to you, drawing your attention back to him.

“Doesn't seem like anyone else is going to bother, either,” he added, reaching back up with his hand so he could place it on the door by your head as he leaned in closer.

“You're alone in this.”

The cold words he spoke sent a shudder through you, and you shook your head as if denying what he had just told you would somehow change the way things were going.

“Why?” you asked, your voice wavering as you continued “why won't anyone help me?”

“Because nothing bad is happening to them, so they don't care,” he answered plainly, “maybe if they knew you, it might bother them. But bad things happen to complete strangers everyday; just because this time it's a bit closer in proximity doesn't make them care any more or any less.”

His other hand reached up to play with your hair, almost absentmindedly running his fingers through the strands as he continued to speak.

“As long as they're in the clear at the end of the day, that's all that matters to them,” he said.

“That's…. That's not true,” you sniffled, “someone out there wants to help me. They need to.”

Kishibe shrugged.

“Maybe some would,” he said, “but clearly those people aren't in earshot right now.”

The callousness of his words sent your emotions into a frenzy once again. Tears began running down your cheeks again while you sobbed. Only you weren't screaming this time, nor were you banging against the door. What was the point? If no one would help you even after hearing that, then why bother?

All you could do was cry about it like the pathetic weakling you were.

With your forehead pressed against the door, you weren't able to see any of what Kishibe was doing. You knew he was still behind you – it was hard to ignore how closely he was looming over you – but he had yet to do anything to you.

Would he even do anything?

As soon as you thought that, you remembered how he had groped you in the bedroom, how he had held you down against him even when you told him to let you go. In that same moment, you felt one of his hands around your waist and his fingers slipping beneath the layers of your hoodie and shirt so he could caress your skin directly. His other hand found its way to your jaw so he could direct your attention towards him once again.

Of course he'd do something further. Why had you even considered that he might not?

The blank brown eyes you had grown to know met yours, and despite the futility of the situation, you still made yourself put out one last plea. Even if he was odd, he was still human at the end of the day, and therefore, he needed to have some sort of empathy, right?

“I won't go to the police – I won't say anything about this to anyone,” you told him, “so please, reconsider.”

“No.”

His answer to your request was swift; he didn't think twice about it nor was he moved in any way.

Kishibe had made up his mind and there was no changing it.

Just as swiftly as his answer, he then angled your jaw upward so he could claim your lips in a kiss.

The taste on his tongue was harsh, a cocktail of the liquor he'd consumed over the course of the evening. The strongest remnant of alcohol that flooded your senses was most likely whatever he had just gulped down from his flask. The stubble around his lips brushed against your skin and the sensation made you jump, though with the hand he still had on your jaw, you again were unable to escape his grasp. There was nowhere for you to go; he had you pressed firmly between the front door and himself. The only bit of freedom he allowed you were the ways in which you trembled beneath his grasp, how you shook and shivered while his free hand continued to caress the skin beneath your shirt.

The whimpers you made in response to his touch were swallowed up by his mouth as he prolonged what was certainly a show of mockery for an action that was meant to be tender.

Did he really need to torment you in this way?

When he pulled away from the kiss he did so with a clear plan in mind, as his hands immediately went to the zipper of your hoodie and forced it down before pulling the entire piece of clothing off of you, taking your bag with it. Both items were tossed behind him and he quickly placed his hands on you once again, moving them all over as he explored your body through your clothes. Even through your clothing at acted as a sort of barrier, the feeling of his calloused palms stroking up your sides and down your spine were enough to make you jolt in place and force whimpers out of your mouth.

He moved in closer, pressing up directly behind you which allowed you to feel the growing bulge in his pants.

When he shifted his focus in order to grope your breasts through the material of your shirt, you placed your head so it was pressed against the door again, still sobbing. All you wanted in that moment was to become one with the door; merge into it so he couldn't do this to you anymore. You didn't care what happened to you, just as long as this would stop.

Instead of that mercy, Kishibe continued to toy with your chest. Then he began to speak.

“I'm a bit surprised you let it get as far as what happened in the bedroom,” he told you, “you really had no issue going into a man's apartment that you'd never been to before? There was nothing that raised any alarm for you until I had you on top of me?”

You whimpered.

“You're too naive; that's why you won't be leaving. If I don't step in you'll get yourself killed.”

His thumb and pointer finger found your nipple through your clothes, and when he began to focus on that by pinching it between his fingers, a strangled noise emerged from your throat.

Kishibe felt the need to comment on that.

“Do you like being played with from behind? You're more responsive to this than I was expecting,” he said.

“N-no….”

Your shirt remained as it was only for a few more moments before he decided that he wanted to feel your bare skin, resulting in him ripping your shirt down the neckline and pulling your bra down with it. With skin now on skin, it was instantly noticeable when the shrieks that left your mouth as his fingers tweaked your nipples sounded less horrified and more wanton.

“You really do like this,” Kishibe said, a hint of pleasure in his voice.

“No,” you said again.

Instead of acknowledging your denial, his hot breath hit your ear as he said “I was thinking it'd probably take a little bit to get you wet enough so fucking you would be a bit more comfortable, but I probably don't need to wait all that long, do I? If those noises of yours are any indication, I bet I could slide into you right now.”

“No!”

Even with you raising your voice, he still wasn't listening.

His hands crept around your waist again before they found the zipper of your pants. The sound of it zipping open seemed loud within the space of your head, but it didn't compare to the feeling of his thumbs slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear before he shoved your panties down past your thighs, taking your pants with them.

With your most intimate area now exposed, you shuddered as the chill air attacked your flesh. When Kishibe began to palm and knead your ass, you whimpered. Your lower half was then pulled away from the door and he moved his knee between your thighs so he could spread your legs wider. You could feel how heavy his gaze was on your cunt. Heat filled your cheeks while you bit down on your lip, the tears that were still flowing now a bit more angry.

It was humiliating. He had you pressed against the surface of the door, your palms laying flat against it while your ass was sticking out. You didn't want to merge with the door anymore; you wanted to curl up and die.

But even that wasn't an option for you.

A pair of thick fingers found their way to your cunt, caressing your folds in a way that felt experimental before his middle finger slipped between them, the tip shallowly ghosting along your heated entrance which caused you to shudder. The wetness that was beginning to drip out of you easily coated his fingertip, much to his amusement.

“Thought so,” he said.

“No.”

It wasn't true. You weren't enjoying this; just because he forced such a reaction out of you didn't mean that you wanted it. He knew that but he was just insisting on being as horrible as possible. How could you have not realized what he was really like until now?

“Hard to argue when I have the evidence smeared on my fingers, don't you think?” Kishibe asked you. He pushed his digits into your folds for emphasis, and the squelching sounds of him dipping into your wet heat only made you more ashamed. His free hand then returned to your chest while he fingered your cunt.

His fingers were sliding along your walls easier than you would have liked, and the feeling of his blunt nails inside of you as he stretched you out caused several shudders to run through your body, becoming intense enough that you needed to bite down hard on your lip to try and keep down the shameful whining noises that wanted to emerge because of it.

He must have noticed the way you were trying to keep it in as he way he was fingering you suddenly became rougher, with him curling his fingers while searching for the sensitive spots inside of you. He moved in closer as well, breathing huskily into your ear as he spoke to you.

“I wish I'd done this sooner,” Kishibe whispered, “if I had known how eager you would be for me, I wouldn't have wasted so much time before.”

No insults or retorts left your mouth that time; you were too busy trying to be as quiet as possible as all you could focus on was the awful affect he was having on you while his fingers continued to slide in and out. He was being rougher now because he wanted to humiliate you even more – that was the only explanation. To have you moan like you were enjoying this as a way to torment you further. As if the way your wetness was dripping down the inside of your thighs wasn't enough, turning cold once it hit the open air and sending more shudders running through you.

When his other hand came down to toy with your clit, you ended up biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. You hated how it felt good. How the feeling of his fingers rubbing hard circles against that nub had your legs shaking and your insides burning. Kishibe intended for you to cum on his fingers, and you hated that he would more than likely be successful in that goal.

Why aren't you stopping him?

…..It hit you that you hadn't really tried much to get away from him. Aside from the way you ordered him to let go and how you pushed his hand away, there was very little in terms of actual resistance on your part.

But what could you even do? How would a civilian fight off an expert devil hunter?

Even though you couldn't imagine any scenario where you on your own managed to get away from him, maybe the way you had done nothing other than cry through your assault had been enough to reaffirm in his mind that you needed to be kept away from the world. For your safety, he said.

You wondered if he was actually delusional enough to believe that excuse.

That train of thought was derailed completely when you felt Kishibe's fingers brush against a spot within you in tandem with the fingers on your clit, and your vision whited out as he forced out the reaction he'd been looking for.

You came on his fingers.

Your face and ears were burning and you could taste iron from your bleeding lip as you tried your hardest to keep in those awful moans.

Mercifully, he didn't continue fingering you when you came. Instead he seemed to savor the way you were clenching down around him as you heard him let out a breathy sigh into your ear. When you had finished, he stayed like that, his chest pressed against your back and the fingers on your clit giving you one last stroke before he pulled away.

After another moment, he pulled his fingers out of you, his hands finally leaving those sensitive, intimate areas. A new wave of anxiety washed over you as you had a horrible idea of what was going to follow.

You heard his belt being undone. And then his zipper, which was hastily followed by the sound of his pants being shoved down.

And then his hands were back around your waist, pulling you back into the position he had forced you into earlier that you had unconsciously moved from as your body unintentionally moved back to press against the door, still trying to escape him even though you knew there was no point.

He spread open the lips of your pussy, guiding his cock to your entrance after. Your breath hitched when you felt him rub the tip against your folds, gathering up your wetness on the end of his length just as he'd done with his fingers earlier.

He shoved himself in.

And once he was inside of you, he only took a brief moment to savor it, letting out a small sigh of contentment as he finally got to experience the feeling of the walls of your cunt clamping down on his dick.

“Good girl,” Kishibe mumbled.

Your heart was in your throat, however, as despite knowing where things would be heading once he had begun kissing and groping you earlier, the feeling of his dick being sheathed halfway into you just cemented that this was real: he'd locked you in his apartment and claimed you as his own. And if he continued to get his way from this point, then this would be the rest of your life, one spent as a plaything to Kishibe's whims.

Only for a moment was that thought able to run through your head, however, because soon after he began to fuck you in earnest. Despite your successful resistance before, you weren't able to keep quiet once you felt him moving against you, his cock plugging up your hole again and again as his hips thrust hard against your ass. The sobs that were mixed with your moans bounced against the surface of the door, filling up the small, empty space of the entryway.

If only you were loud enough to drown out the noises Kishibe was making.

For a man who was normally so quiet, there was no attempt on his part to keep in his own groans and grunts. Still positioned with his mouth by your ear as he kept you close to him, you heard everything. His own harsh breathing mixed with small curses that left his lips in time with the cock that was slamming into you. Swears that were changed out for praise of you when his fingers returned to your clit to stimulate you further, causing your sensitive walls to quiver around him.

The words “good girl” were said to you many times during that period.

Your back quickly became sticky with sweat, your own body heat combined with that of Kishibe making it get to the point that it was becoming too much. The feeling of cold from when you had been outside was forgotten as it felt like every part of you was burning up while his body was engulfing your own as he used you to chase his pleasure. You wanted him away from you, just a little bit.

With a shaking hand, you pressed it against his chest as best you could with the awkward position, silently trying to communicate that want of yours.

Kishibe grabbed your wrist and forced it back against the doorway, keeping his hand gripped firmly around your arm and refusing to let go even when you tried to wiggle out of it. Eventually you were forced to give up on getting what you wanted.

Just like everything else tonight.

With the brute strength he was displaying as he pounded into your pussy and how sensitive you still were from your previous orgasm, you found yourself cumming much faster the second time. Your pussy walls clenched hard around him once again, but this time Kishibe made the choice to fuck you through it.

That only prolonged your orgasm, and the longer it went on, the more strained your moans became as your throat was thoroughly raw by that point.

Once your pleasure faded, you were left waiting for Kishibe to finish. Something you didn't need to wait long for as soon enough you felt him stiffen within you, and then his swollen cock erupted, long white streams of cum painting your insides as he kept himself pressed close, wanting to be as deep within you as possible. He groaned loudly as he did so, and his hand returned to your breast to knead the soft flesh once more as his own orgasm began to ebb away, his cock still twitching in the aftermath.

The entryway was now filled with the breathless gasps of the both of you and the scent of sweat and sex.

Once his cock had softened, Kishibe released the grip he had on you and pulled his dick out of your pussy, and finally, he stepped away from you.

Immediately you slumped down, exhausted, your front half still pressed against the door while you sat in the entryway, your pants still around your ankles and Kishibe's cum and your own release dripping down your thighs and onto the floor beneath you. You still had tears to shed, apparently, as the sight had you going back to sobbing. Your throat hurt and your nose was stuffy, but all you could think about was how you wished you hadn't made the choice to help Kishibe earlier.

If only you had decided to go with your own selfish instincts, you wouldn't be here right now. By now you probably would've been asleep, safe and sound in your own bed in your own apartment, and the only danger you would be facing would be the possibility of your next door neighbor's children running wild again and slamming doors so hard that the walls would shake.

Being reminded of your day off that you had planned out had you crying harder as you realized you couldn't ever go back to days like that.

God how you wished you could redo your actions from tonight.

You were reminded of Kishibe's presence when you felt his hand run down your back, his knuckles grazing you lightly and with a touch so soft that it felt out of place when you thought of what you had just experienced at his hands.

He wasn't trying to comfort you, was he?

With robotic movements, you turned your head once again so you could see him, see the face of the man who had hurt you so horribly. Unsurprisingly, there was no real emotion to be gleaned from his expression as it was as blank as it always was. Though when you looked at his eyes, you found that there was a hint of something there. Something more intense and obsessive than you had ever witnessed from anyone, much less Kishibe.

“You did good,” he told you.

“Fuck you,” you weakly hissed in response.

“Mm, not right now. Maybe in the morning.”

He moved his hand to your upper arm, squeezing you in what seemed to be an encouraging manner as he said “it's late now. We should get some rest.”

“Can you walk, or should I carry you?” Kishibe then asked.

You didn't respond. Instead you shrugged off his hand and turned your head to face the door, not wanting to look at him any longer.

“Alright then.”

Within a moment, you were scooped up off of the floor and into his arms with surprising ease, and while you were feeling disoriented from the way you were moved about like that, Kishibe had turned and walked away from the door with you held firmly against his chest.

It shouldn't have been too much of a shock that it was this easy for him to pick you up, and yet…..

“You could have just forcibly taken me if you wanted,” you mumbled.

“I could have,” he said.

The way he so readily agreed with you turned your emotions to anger once again.

“So why bother with all that bullshit?” you snapped.

“Because I thought the way you doted on me was nice,” Kishibe said.

“You're a scumbag.”

“Hm.”

Kishibe neither agreed nor disagreed with you, as he stepped into the bedroom with you, taking care to make sure your feet didn't hit the door frame as he carried you in. Once the two of you were fully inside, he stopped and then looked at you.

Having his gaze fully on you once again had that bit of anger die out, as suddenly you felt more vulnerable than you'd ever felt in your life before this point. Your shirt was torn and the majority your legs were still bare as he hadn't bothered to readjust your pants before he'd grabbed you, so you were in his arms with your pants around your ankles.

Not just humiliating, but awkward as well, especially when you moved to cover yourself back up as the way he stared at you had those intense feelings of shame and helplessness running through you once again. Though you knew it wouldn't accomplish much of anything, and especially not when you were at the mercy of Kishibe's whims.

“Did I say you could cover up?”

The sound of his voice made you freeze, and then when you processed his words, you began to shake in his grip. While it seemed that you were out of tears to shed, you were still able to sniffle softly in despair.

That got him to react, and Kishibe leaned in to place a kiss on your forehead before he buried his face into your hair again.

“It'll be hard for now, but it will get better,” he told you.

You only shook harder in his grip.

With a hum against your hair, he spoke again.

“You should be happy. In this world where people's priorities are on themselves and themselves alone, you have someone who's willing to do anything to look out for you.”

And with that, Kishibe used his foot to close the bedroom door firmly behind the both of you.

[obliviani]

brief photo study

[g00miato]

Yes sir 🫡

[harmeu]

HOW DO THEY REACT WHEN YOUR HURT?

(GN!READER)

(Aventurine, Scar, Dion Agriche, Kishibe)

TW: Bruises, Scars, Wounds, Blood

AVENTURINE:

Aventurine is known for his eccentric personality for sure. He’s done well when asking others to join him but when it comes to actually connecting with others it falls flat due to his personality. You were an exception though! His beautiful lover.

So finding out you were hurt was not the best. It was a bruise you had gotten on your arm from somebody bumping into you by ‘accident.’ Well no not an accident but you weren’t going to tell Aventurine you had gotten into a fight! You know that would drive him into insanity.

“Oh dear? What's that on your arm?” He asked with his usual sardonic smile faltering at the sight of his beloved hurt. He took his hand out rubbing the bruise in delicate circles.

“Somebody bumped into me by accident.” You said averting your gaze as guilt filled you. 

Aventurine didn’t buy it and you knew as soon as his gaze darkened and his smile became more pointed and defined.

“Lies darling.” He said chuckling and kissed your bruise leaving the house.

All we know is that guy who hurt you was never seen again.

SCAR:

Scar is a manipulative asshole and sometimes you wonder how two different individuals like you two ended up dating. Hell, you loved the guy but sometimes you had to take double takes on his decisions. You loved him and he was obsessed. You could tell by the far lengths he went for you. Even if they weren’t good things.

You had gotten hit badly in a fight. A gash was literally bleeding through the stomach of your shirt. It reminded you of all the scars Scar had. Funny and ironic. Though you knew you had to patch yourself up and cover it before your boyfriend saw or who knows what would happen to the guy who hurt you?

Sadly you didn’t know Scar was home early and found you bleeding. He halted in his steps, eyes widened and staring blankly.

“Scar.?” You murmured out a reply PRAYING that he wouldn’t do anything over the top.

“Who hurt you?” His cunning smile returned as he stroked your scar sending small shockwaves of pain throughout you but you mumbled out an excuse.

“Nobody. Some..vines! Yeah vines. Pointy and thorny stuff.” Bullshit. As if he’d believe that.

“As if darling. Can you pleeeease tell me the guy I need to kill? Ooh! No, no wait! Torture and then kill! Ohhh wait wait. Burn him alive.” He smiled after his words, making you pale.

“No no no! That’s not needed!” You frantically said but Scar was already out the door hunting for the person.

DION AGRICHE:

Dion’s a sociopath. Nicest way to put it! Doesn’t show emotion at all and kills without a second thought. The Agriches were known for their ruthless nature so you should’ve been aware of that. But no one could get used to the sight of bloody bodies as a regular person. It was definitely not on your bucket list to date him but it happened! Right after you caught him smelling flowers. Now that tugged on your heart strings.

Would that excuse his actions? Fuck no. But did you love him? Yes. And so did he surprisingly.

Blood was on your palm after getting slashed by one of those who tried to assassinate the Agriche’s. After they found out your connection to him of course people would try and kill you. You managed to run out of there and make it back to the estate with soft pants.

You didn’t expect to find Dion staring dead in the eye at you, his red pupils dilating as he saw you bleed. You wondered if it reminded him of all the bloodshed he went through.

“You're bleeding.” He stated with a monotone voice.

“A bit yeah.” You forced a smile. “Just those regular guys who keep wanting to assassinate the Agriches..” A soft chuckle left your lips.

“Go to the healer.” He said with the same tone before leaving in the same direction where you got slashed at.

KISHIBE:

Kishibe is a on sight man to put it in simple words. Straightforward and hella strong. It was a surprise you ended up dating him since he was hung up on some lady that rejected him several times because she liked women. Were you just a rebound? You thought at times but those thoughts always vanished when Kishibe brought you little things. Like food, bracelets, and soft kisses. 

He had a tough guy look and definitely was one on the inside after seeing him fight but he did hold affection for you. 

Deeply.

A devil had managed to hit a bad hit on your back making you have to clutch the wall for support and limp back to base trying not to collapse in pain.

As you reached the base you found your lover staring at you with dead eyes. 

You know what those meant.

“Just..a devil.” You murmured out embarrassed since Kishibe was beyond strong and could beat a devil in a blink of an eye. Yet here you are bleeding out. “Sorry.”

Kishibe walked over to you and stared at your wound handing you bandages.

“I’ll be back. I need to release some stress.”

“Wait..” You know what that meant.

“Soon.” He left through the door dragging a huge weapon with him.

[whosyourfavevoicedby-polls]

[delulu4anime]

𝔚𝔢𝔩𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔗𝔬 𝔓𝔩𝔬𝔱 𝔉𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔫⇥ ɪꜱɴ’ᴛ ʜᴇ ᴏʟᴅ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴀᴅ?

🪦ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ⇥ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ!ᴋɪꜱʜɪʙᴇ x ʜʏʙʀɪᴅ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

🪦ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀʀʏ ᴘᴀꜱꜱᴀɢᴇ⇥ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ ᴋɪɴᴋ

🪦ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴜʟᴏɢʏ⇥ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ. ᴅᴇᴄᴇᴘᴛɪᴏɴ. ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇꜱꜱ. ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ-ꜰɪᴠᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ; ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴇᴛ ʜɪᴍ. ʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱɴ’ᴛ ���ʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴠᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴋɴɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ꜱʜɪɴɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴍᴏʀ ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴅ ʜᴏᴘᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ. ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ.

🪦ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢꜱ⇥ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ ᴋɪɴᴋ, ᴀɢᴇ ɢᴀᴘ (ᴋɪꜱʜɪʙᴇ ɪꜱ ɪɴ ʜɪꜱ ꜰɪꜰᴛɪᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ-ꜰɪᴠᴇ), ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ (ɪᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ɢɪʀʟ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ), ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ꜱᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴋɪꜱʜɪʙᴇ, ɪʟʏ’ꜱ, ᴄᴏᴜᴄʜ ꜱᴇx, ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ (ꜰᴏʀ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ), ᴘɪᴠ, ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx.

🪦ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠᴏᴛɪᴏɴ⇥ 3.1ᴋ+

🪦ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴇʀᴍᴏɴ⇥ 🔞ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴀᴠᴇʏᴀʀᴅ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴋɪɴᴅʟʏ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴅɪꜱᴛᴜʀʙᴇᴅ. ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏᴡ🔞-ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɢᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴍᴀɴ ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ. ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʜɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ꜰᴏʟᴅ ᴍᴇ ɪɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴘᴏꜱɪᴛɪᴏɴ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀɴ. ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʜɪᴍ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪʀᴛɪᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ɪɴɴᴏᴄᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʏꜱ. ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ᴛᴏᴏ. ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ ꜰᴏʀ. ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴡʜʏ ɪ ᴡʀᴏᴛᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ. ʟᴇᴛ’ꜱ ɪɴᴅᴜʟɢᴇ ɪɴ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴡʜᴏʀᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴋɪꜱʜɪʙᴇ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ. ᴀʟꜱᴏ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴᴏɴʟʏ ꜱᴀʏꜱ ʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏꜱ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰʀᴇᴀᴋʏ ᴍᴀɴ ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ ᴛᴏᴏ. ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ!

🪦ᴛʜᴇ ʜʏᴍɴꜱ⇥ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴍʏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ɢɪʀʟ/ɪ'ᴅ ᴅᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛᴇᴠᴇʀ ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴅᴏ/ɪ'ᴅ ʀᴜɴ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪᴅᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ/ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏᴛ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ ɪꜱꜱᴜᴇꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴅᴏ ᴛᴏᴏ

Kishibe hadn't realized how soft he had gotten in his old age until recently. A hardened Devil Hunter like him shouldn't have care what happened to someone like you. As far as he was concerned the reports about you pointed to the only right thing to do; dispose of you. Yet the way you had fallen to your knees and looked up at him as the rain cascaded down on you both. That look in your eyes of utter defeat and you hadn't even tried to fight him. There was something in him that soften and went against what he usually did. Everyone said the booze had finally rotted his brain because no sane Devil Hunter would willingly care for a devil but you were different. Even after several years of living together, you both continued to prove everyone wrong. 

You weren't as violent as the reports made you out to be. You were lost and, like any beasts when cornered, you would attacked. It was a shame the things that had happened to you. You didn't have a fighting chance from the moment you took your first breath. Your mother had died during childbirth and your grief stricken father was beside himself; why had she died and you lived? It hadn't made any sense to your father who was declining mentally with each passing moment. You weren't even a week old when your father called upon the Scythe Devil, one that had been associated with death itself, for a contract. A devil that could undo such a permeant outcome for a hefty price; a price that many humans ultimately could not pay. 

A life for a life. The was the Scythe Devil's terms and it would not budge for anyone. It was terms that were more than fair for your father, your little life for the life of his beloved wife. The Scythe Devil restored life to your mother and your father, ever grateful, knelt down presenting your sleeping little body to the Scythe Devil. It took you and vanished into thin air like it did after every contract was completed. It was suppose to be an easy soul to collect but The Scythe Devil decided to do something different; it kept you. It cared for you like your father should have and when your body was strong enough to wield its power it merged with you. You were suppose to take over and be better than it had ever been. 

You were the child it never had and it put more effort than it should have into making sure you were ready. At first you were hesitant to do as the Scythe Devil asked of you, you were only sixteen at the time; slaying any being you came across, whether that be a human or devil, and consume the soul was a lot for a teenager to process. Yet over the years you had become numb to the screams and blood; consume, consume, consume. You were suppose to be feared in the new age where weapons became automatic and the Gun Devil almost reigned supreme. Yet by the time you were in your mid-twenties you couldn't bring yourself to do so anymore. You knew private Devil Hunter's and Public Safety alike were after you; you had made quite the name for yourself. Yet on that day you met Kishibe you decided to stop running once he finally caught up to you; you fell to your knees in front of the man before you. 

Nearly begging Kishibe to kill you while the Scythe Devil raged inside you; surrounding wasn't any option for the Scythe Devil but for you it was about to be the way to freedom. No more blood shed, no more unanswered questions, and no more feeling used. You were expecting to be killed on the spot and you waited for the sweet pain to signal it was all over. What you were met with instead was light...your salvation. Kishibe had taken you in and with some convincing on Makima's part you were able to live with him. You were under house arrest for several months to make sure that you truly were no threat and what better person to live with than Kishibe just in case things went south. After seeing how docile you truly were Kishibe managed to convince you to join Public Safety, working alongside him and many other Devil Hunters. It wasn't the most ideal arrangement for the Scythe Devil, coming along with you to do chores around the apartment and then joining to fight alongside humans. 

But after a year or so the Scythe Devil was on board too; any way to collect souls was okay for it. You thought that it was you who needed Kishibe more than he needed you but it was actually quite the opposite. It was getting harder to get out of bed in the mornings when your warm body was pressed against him, sleeping peacefully. It was even harder on days that you had off and he still had to go into the office. Kishibe found himself craving your warmth and the way you looked up at him. Kishibe even found himself drinking less in order to remember nights where you had attempted to cook for him only to order takeout instead. The nights where you would drag him to the video store after work so he could get you all the movies you missed out on as a kid. The way you laughed at his jokes or the way you pouted when he told you not to eat the pastries he had gotten before dinner. 

It all felt so domesticated and he wasn't sure that he deserved something like this. Even now the wine he had tucked under his arm had nothing on the taste of you. It had been a long day of paperwork, newbie training, and trying to kill the devils that still posed a threat to humanity. He dug around in his trench coat pocket for his keys as his lidded gaze focused on the door in front of him. Just on the other side was the being that he had come to cherish more than his own life and in just a few more seconds he'd be able to hold you close. He wondered what you had gotten up to in the day; chores no doubt but were you cleaning in just his shirt again or would he find you in your own clothes though it wasn't as enjoyable. He just needed to- 

Before he could even finish the thought let along stick the key in so he could unlock the door you were opening the door to the apartment. You thought you had heard the jingle of the keys and you quickly made your way over to the front door. You didn't even bother peeking through the peephole because you just knew it was him. You immediately wrap your arms around him and bury your face into the crook of his neck. He grunted at the sudden impact of your body before he chuckled and walked you back into the apartment. He kicked the door closed behind him with one arm wrapped around you while the other, that still had the wine tucked under his arm, reached to lock the door. Once he knew you both were safe inside he buried his face against your temple and inhales your scent; the scent of home. 

"Did you miss me pretty girl?" Kishibe murmured and you nodded your head. 

"Always." You murmured back and he hummed before placing a soft kiss against your temple. 

It was no secret at the office that Kishibe had a soft spot for you and vise versa. However, there was never much PDA between you two at work other than fingertips brushing over knuckles when handing off paperwork or a gentle head pat after a successful mission. It wasn't until you were both back home that you could finally touch each other the way you had craved all day. He was able to look down and noticed that you were wearing one of his white t-shirt he often wore under his uniform shirts. His hand he had wrapped around you moving down your side and down to the hem of your shirt that looked better on you than it did on him.

"Brought some wine home. Figured we could celebrate." Kishibe said which caused you to raise your head from his neck.

"Celebrate what?" 

"The fact that I get to come home to you everyday." Kishibe's deep voice carries throughout the entryway and swirls around in your head. You couldn't help but chuckle as you tilt your head.

"That's something to celebrate?" You playfully said and he leaned down to press his lips against yours. 

Your eyes flutter shut and you hum at the feeling of his lips against yours. It started sweet and slow as if that's all the kiss would be, a way to show each other how you missed one another throughout the day. But the moment he started to walk you backwards down the hallway and into the kitchen was the moment you knew it was going to turn into so much more. And with that you wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss which caused him to groan. He walked you back enough to set the bottle of wine down on the kitchen counter before he wrapped both his arms around your body. His fingernails digging into your ass just enough so that it would leave behind the crescent shape of his nails. A sign that he had been there touching you and he intended to leave more markings behind in places only he could see. You pulled away from his lips and panted when the sound of the bottle hitting the kitchen floor startled you. 

You looked to see the dark liquid along with the glass all over the kitchen floor, Kishibe used the way you craned your neck in order to see around him as the opportunity to attack your neck with kisses. Your mind immediately pulled away from the mess and back to Kishibe as you let out a soft moan. The living room was adjacent to the kitchen and it didn't take long for Kishibe to get you onto the couch and take off your shirt. The moment he tossed the shirt haphazardly onto the floor was the moment goosebumps started to rise up on your skin. You had nothing on underneath which made it easy for the cool air coming from the mini split above the tv to blow directly onto your exposed skin. A shiver ran down your spine at the way he pressed his index finger lightly against your bottom lip and slowly trailed it from your chest, sternum, and down to your stomach.

"Been thinking about you all day pretty girl. Thinking about you like this. Bare and ready for me. It's one of my favorites." Kishibe murmured as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against your forehead. 

His fingertip trailing down until your breath hitches at the feeling of his index and middle finger running along your wet slit. You spread your legs and it causes Kishibe to hum above you.

"Such a good girl spreading wider for me without me even asking," Kishibe coos out before he slides his fingers inside you. You let out a wonton moan as you tilt your head back against the back of the couch. His fingers moving in and out of you at a painfully slow pace. "And you're already so wet...what were you thinking about hm?"

"Y-You." You whine out as you grab at the fabric of the couch. "How much I missed you and couldn't wait for you to get home."

"About how much you missed who?"

"About how much I missed daddy."

Kishibe hums again as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you faster. The way he curled his fingers and his free hand pressed against your clit was enough to make your hips shift forward.

"Such a good girl for me," Kishibe murmurs as he leans forward and nips at your neck. The sound of your crying pussy along with your moans was making Kishibe harder by the second. "Don't think I'm gonna be able to hold out sweetheart. Need you too badly." He grunts out against your skin.

"P-Please daddy...need you."

Usually he would have you beg more and bring you to a release before he thought about being inside you but he needed you more than he usually did today. He pulled his hands away from you which caused you to whine again. His lidded gaze moving to you as he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his slacks.

"Go ahead and lay down pretty girl." He breathed out and you didn't hesitate to lay flat on your back.

     Kishibe struggled off his trench coat while he shook off his slacks down his long legs. His hand tugging his tie off and tossing it over his shoulder as he climbed onto the couch with you. He was in between your legs in less than a second and pulling his boxers down so his cock was freed from the constricting fabric. Kishibe grunted as the tip of his cock brushed against your wet slit, making sure he was lined up. He focused on the way he pushed his cock inside of you before his gaze moves to meet yours. You let out a moan as he started to stretch you out in all the best ways. 

"Daddy loves you sweet girl," He breathed out as he continued to push himself in until he was buried to the hilt. "Daddy will always love you."

Kishibe start to move his hips at a steady pace, the heat of your body enveloping him. You moaned as your eyes fluttered shut and the pleasure started to consume you again.

"I love you daddy." You gasp out and he couldn't help but groan as you said those words he loved hearing. He dipped his head down so he could bury his face into your neck again.

"Gods, sweetheart, you're so tight." Kishiba moaned out as he picked up his pace. Your arms wrapping around his neck.

"F-Feels so good daddy. Please." You moan out. 

He let out a low growl, his hands grabbing your hips in a bruising grip as he continued to pound into you.

"Fuck. So good. You feel so damn good. Like you were made for me."

The sound of skin against skin quickly filled the room. The couch creaking under your combined weight as it occasional hit the wall. His cock always reaching spot your fingers only dreamed of reaching. 

"Right there daddy...h-haa...r-right there."

Kishibe groaned as he lifted his head to look at you, sweat starting to bead on his forehead. He thrust into you harder, not caring if the neighbors could hear.

"Gods, I've missed this. Missed you. I missed being inside you. Missed how you feel, how you sound, how you say my name."

You knew it was silly, you had sex the night before but it always seemed like the days he came home and ravished you like this were the days you didn't go to the office with him. The days where he was reminded of what it was like before you were in his life. Days he dreaded being alone now that he had gotten a taste of heaven. The more you squirmed and moaned underneath him the closer it drove him to his release. His hand leaving your hip and snaking between your colliding bodies. You felt him attack your bundle of nerves and you arched you back and moaned. Your thighs trembled when you wrapped them around his waist as his hips kept snapping against you. 

"Fuck oh f-fuck daddy," You moaned out at the way the pressure in your lower stomach was building up at a rapid rate. "M' gonna cum." 

"Yeah pretty girl? Gonna cum for daddy and make a mess for me?" Kishibe moaned out as his kept his gaze on you. Seeing you come apart for him was something he’d never get sick of seeing. "Be a good girl and show me how good daddy makes you feel." 

He had become such an intoxicating person, one that you needed every day. A addiction you'd never want to get rid of. Not with the way he looked down at you or pounded into your cunt like it truly was made for him and him alone. The way he rub your clit desperately trying to push you over the edge because he just had to see you cum before him. It's what got him off. To see his pretty baby crying out for him. He could see the tears of pleasure forming in your waterline and as soon as they spilled over with how overwhelming it felt to be so close just needing a bit more. That's when his deep voice filled the space between you along with your bodies meeting and your moans. 

"Daddy's here pretty. C'mon and let go for me."

Those words paired with the assault on your clit is what had you coming undone with his name on your tongue like a prayer. His divine purpose. It wasn't long before he followed and came deep inside you. You both panted as he collapsed on top of you. Your labored breath filling the living room as you started to rub his back through his work shirt he never even bothered to take off. Neither of you said anything while you basked in each other’s warmth before you suddenly broke the silence with a sudden thought.

“Should probably clean up the wine. Might stain the-”

You let out a squeak at the way he suddenly shifts positions and you were now straddling his lap. You can feel his cock twitch inside you and you looked at him with wide eyes only for him to smirk. Despite the fact you were still trying to come down from your last high, you were ready to go again.

“In a minute. Daddy still hasn’t gotten his fill yet.” He said as he started to unbutton his work shirt. You were in for another long night.

©ᴅᴇʟᴜʟᴜ4ᴀɴɪᴍᴇ 2024 ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

ᴅᴀɪʟʏ ᴄʟɪᴄᴋꜱ

ᴘᴀʏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ɢʀᴀᴠᴇ

[daisynik7]

Gimme More

Pairing: Kishibe x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.6k

cw: bodyguard au, no devils au, reader is thirty-years-old, Kishibe is fifty-ish, age gap, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl), creampie, car sex, slight degradation (slut, whore)

Summary: Your father is the founder and CEO of one of the fastest growing tech companies in the city. As his prominence in society continues to skyrocket, he hires only the most elite people to look after his family. Kishibe started working for your father only a year ago, but already he’s his chauffeur, his bodyguard, his most trusted confidant, his right-hand man. What your father doesn’t know is that Kishibe happens to be your right-hand man as well.  

Author’s Notes: Thanks @demonwoman for the request for the y2k karaoke party! This one is inspired by "Gimme More" by Britney Spears. It’s been a minute since I wrote for Kishibe, so this was especially fun for me to write. It’s a short one, though I might expand on this in the future because the idea of bodyguard!Kishibe is making me go brrrr, LOL. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thanks for reading! MDNI divider by @/cafekitsune.

You know better than to interrupt your father when his office door is shut. Closed means he’s in the middle of discussing important matters with his business partners or that he’s in an important phone call overseas. There are no other vehicles in the driveway besides your own, so you figure it’s the latter. You continue to pace the hallway, waiting for the moment until he’s finally free. A few more minutes pass, then you hear the distinct clickof the knob being unlocked and the door creaking open. You wait a couple of seconds before barging in. 

Your dad glances up from his desk, smiling at you as you make strides towards him. “Hi, princess. Going out tonight?”

It’s obvious, considering that you’re currently dressed in your skimpiest black dress, makeup done, high heels clacking against the tile floors. You press your cheek to his, giving him a fake smooch, not wanting to ruin your lipstick with a real one. “Yes. Just want to say goodnight before I leave. I won’t be back until late.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, scanning you up and down. “Aren’t you going to be cold dressed like that?”

You roll your eyes at him. Here it is, the lecture. “I’ll be fine.”

He sighs, organizing the papers on his desk into a neat stack. “Princess, you should really start thinking about settling down soon. I mean, you’re not getting any – ”

“Don’t say it,” you interrupt him, patience wearing thin.

He waves his hands, relenting. “I’m just saying. I’m worried about you.”

You take a deep breath, deciding whether or not to debate with him. There are a thousand different arguments you can hit him with, but you know that your efforts will prove futile in the end. So instead, you press a gentle kiss to his forehead, murmuring, “Thank you for the concern. Like I said, I’ll be fine. I am fine. Don’t worry so much, okay?” 

You turn on your heel, ready to leave the house, and especially this conversation, pausing only when he demands, “Kishibe, go with her.”

You stop in your tracks, listening for Kishibe’s response. “Yes, sir,” he mutters.

Facing your father again, you scoff. “Seriously? I can’t even go out on my own anymore? Do I need to remind you that I’m thirty-fucking-years old?”

“And do I need to remind you of what happened two weeks ago?” You don’t because the memory is still fresh in your mind. The two of you were just leaving from lunch together when out of nowhere, a man grabbed you from behind, dragging you with him. It’s thanks to Kishibe, your father’s most vigilant and trusted bodyguard, that it didn’t escalate any further. 

You shake your head, understanding his concern, flashing a glance at Kishibe, who avoids your gaze by focusing on the floor. He accompanies you out the door, your father yelling, “Be careful!” before you’re out of his sight.

Kishibe follows you in silence until you’re outside on the driveway, stepping towards the car. He opens the backseat for you, waiting for you to step in. You ignore him, heading directly to the passenger seat, sliding in without his assistance. He lets out a faint grunt, shutting the door closed, walking to the driver’s side with an annoyed expression on his face. You can’t help but smirk to yourself, amused. 

This isn’t the first time your father has forced Kishibe on you. He’s only been employed a little over a year, but in his short tenure, he’s become your family’s highest-ranking bodyguard. When you began to do press alongside him, posing for magazine covers, interviews for online articles, all that jazz, Dad figured it’d be best to have him around in case you were recognized in public. And, of course, after the incident from two weeks ago, it’s to be expected that Kishibe be with you at all times. 

Little does your father know the dirty secret the two of you share. 

His hand rests lazily on the gear shift, driving the speed limit through the main street, heading towards the club downtown.  You don’t tell him an address or destination; he already knows exactly where to go. You wait until you’re well away from your gated neighborhood to make your move. It doesn’t matter; no one from the outside can see through the tinted windows. Still, it’s routine; it gives the both of you peace of mind, as if you’re doing your due diligence to hide this. Your hand grazes his, lifting it off the lever to guide it to your thigh, spreading yourself wider for him. His eyes stay focused on the road ahead, though you can see his jaw clench, nostrils flaring, his composure wavering. His fingers tease the inside of your plush skin, gradually making his way closer to your loins, throbbing with arousal. You slide the hem of your dress up, giving him more access to slip past the fabric to toy with your clit. 

You buckle in your seat, rubbing yourself deeper against him, moaning his name, loving the way he plays with you. “Almost there,” he mutters, driving faster now, a bit over the speed limit now. “Be patient for me.”

He pulls into the private lot two blocks from the club, the parking attendant flashing him a thumbs up as soon as he spots the familiar license plate. Down the row, where there are fewer cars, Kishibe backs into a spot away from any potential voyeurs. He reaches for the shift with his left hand, putting it in park, his right still working your clit, wet with your slick now. 

Finally, he leans in, kissing you sloppily on the lips, tongue lapping into your mouth greedily. He pulls his fingers away from you, mouth brushing your cheek until he’s hot on your ear, whispering, “Backseat. Now.”

You nod, already in a daze, carefully making your way to the back. He gives you a light slap on the ass, chuckling in that low, husky voice of his, following you. Once you’re both situated, you straddle his lap, your dress hoisted past your stomach, panties wet with your slick as you ride his thigh. “Is it good, princess?” he asks, watching you with a satisfied grin on his face. 

You grimace at him. “Don’t call me that.” Your dad calls you that, but you don’t say it out loud to not ruin the mood. 

“What should I call you then?” He presses his thumb to your clit, massaging it. “Slut? Whore?”

You throw you head back in pleasure, grinding against him, spurred on by the vulgar language. “Yes,” you whine, palming the erection bulging in his pants. 

“No wonder your daddy is always worried about you,” he huffs, rubbing slow circles on your sensitive bud. “Going around, slutting yourself out like this.” He kisses you passionately, unbuckling his belt. “Or are you only like this for me?”

“For you. Only for you,” you moan, swallowing his spit, frothy on your tongue. 

He shrugs his slacks down his legs, enough to free his cock, thick and girthy in his fist. “Does my pretty little slut want to get fucked now?”

You nod erratically, begging for it. “Please, Kishibe. Give it to me.” You lift up on your knees, positioning the head of his cock at your entrance. Slowly, you sink down on him, stretching around him like a perfect fit. You’re familiar with him now, your body molded only to him, no one else. He lets you be in control; lets you take what you need from him. You ride him slowly, panties bunched to the side, his shaft brushing against the lace with every thrust. 

His forehead is pressed to yours, skin damp with sweat, windows beginning to fog up from your body heat. The car creaks on its tires as you bounce on his lap faster, your climax approaching quickly. In a daze, you murmur softly, “I’m coming,” coating him in your orgasm. 

“That’s my pretty girl,” he coos, kissing you sweetly. His grip is at your waist, ready to lift you off. 

You stay seated wrapping your arms around his neck, determined. “More, Kishibe. Give me more.”

He chuckles, chest vibrating with that deep, sexy gruff you love so much. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.” He increases his pace, tightening his hold on your hips, barreling his cock deep into your cunt, hitting that sweet spot over and over until he fills you up with his load, warm and creamy inside you. 

You snuggle into him, relaxing in his arms. After a few moments of comfortable silence, you ask, “Are you worried about me too?” 

He kisses the top of your head, understanding what you’re referencing. “No.”

“You don’t think I should starting looking for a partner?” You twirl his tie around your fingers aimlessly, hoping for a particular response, pretending to be nonchalant about it. While the two of you haven’t formally admitted it yet, there’s no denying it: You love each other.  

He doesn’t speak right away, choosing his words carefully. “Why would you need one if you have me to protect you?”

You smile, satisfied with his answer. “Is this a proposal, Kishibe?” you tease him.

He squeezes you tighter in his embrace. “It is if you want it to be. Though, your father might disapprove of it. At first.”

You snuggle into his chest, giggling. “We’ll break the news to him slowly, then.”

Fifteen minutes later, you’re finally at the club, some of his creampie still inside you as you grind on him in the middle of the dancefloor, his expression stoic and serious while you beam at him.

[ez0dex]

artblock kishibe

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

Breaking the Surface (Sex Pollen Kishibe x f!Reader) MDNI

Due to dwindling devil hunter numbers, you accompany your former mentor, Kishibe, in a run of the mill Devil acquisition. Upon encountering the devil, you both begin to experience some...side effects.

wc: 12.9k Ao3 Masterlist

Warnings: SEX POLLEN AND THEREFORE DUBIOUS CONSENT!!!! (if that is not your thing, please be on your way and we will see you in the next one, love you), enemies to fucking, mean Kishsibe, smoking, drinking, aphrodisiacs, age gap (like late 20s/30s and 50), kissing, spit, sex in an alley, blood (both Devil and Human, but not that much), hypnosis, sex marathon, doggy, missionary, sex marathon, cum, a lot of smell/scent stuff again.

What a joke.  

The thought hung between the two of you, Kishibe in the driver’s seat, and you in the passenger, grumbling out the window. The disgruntled huff rattled in both of your skulls, throbbing against the increasing headache. Neither of you wanted to be here. Or rather, neither of you wanted YOU to be here. Makima bade you join him on what should be a simple execution with little to no complexity. Kishibe was the top of the top, with literally no need for backup taking down a middling level devil. You were perfectly capable, but not even really exceptional, but not a rookie who needed more demonstration either. But, instead of getting your own assignment or group to lead, you were stuck basically being the audience and late report filer for today’s excursion. Your day would consist of standing around, trying to stay out of the way, while he did all the real work, and you’d have the paperwork while he drunk himself stupid back at home. You sighed out, feeling the tension in your head building, the pencil callus on your middle finger already aching. 

“How much further?” You huffed, glancing at the time, disheartened to find it was already approaching mid afternoon. 

“Why, you got something better to do?” Kishibe’s eyes stay locked on the road before you. 

“Better than watching you kill a devil barely half my threat level? Yeah, anything else.” You roll your eyes, squinting as the late morning sunlight peered over the drop down visor.  

He didn’t respond, just carried on driving as if you hadn’t even spoken to him. 

You roll your eyes again and remember Makima's instructions when you had complained, “You’ll go in as a team, numbers are slim right now so everyone pairs even if their ranks don’t align. No one goes alone.” 

Public Safety was scrambling, for personnel, for intel, for quality hunters. Hours had become brutal, late nights bleeding into early mornings with barely time for a shower at home. The office floor was growing more barren every day. Chairs which had once been home to colleagues now sat empty, pushed into desks with dust collecting personal effects that would eventually be collected and trashed by the custodial crew. Everyone was on a razor edge, feeling the impending fate breathing down their necks. Irritability was at an all time high.  

“—total bullshit.” You mumbled, shaking your head and pulling at the skin of your fingers. 

“I didn’t remember you having such a shitty attitude before.” Kishibe took a smooth right turn. 

“It’s been a long time since you were my teacher, Kishibe. A very long time. And I have a perfectly fine attitude, when my time isn’t being wasted.” 

Kishibe grunted in response, taking another turn and stopping the car. 

“Get out and fill the back right tire. It’s getting low.” He commanded, voice passive. 

You looked around the windows realizing you had pulled into a gas station’s air pump. The dashboard didn't even have a tire pressure warning. Was he just trying to piss you off?

“It’s your car.” You settled into your seat further. 

“You’re under my instruction.” 

“What?” You rolled your neck to face him with lidded cold eyes, “ Your old knees can’t get that low anymore, maybe you ought to take a back seat on this one, huh?” 

“So which is it, am I a decrepit old man who can’t do anything alone or am I too good to be wasting your precious time as my caddy?” He glared at you, watching your face contort in indignation, the squeak of your teeth grinding egging him on, “I’m just confused, your story’s inconsistent.” 

“Fuck, fine!” You took off your seatbelt and got out, circling to the back of the driver’s side and unscrewing the valve cap and attaching the hose.

Air hissed rhythmically into the tire, which inflated itself. It was barely flat to begin with, he was just proving how easy it was for him to do whatever he wanted. He had always been an asshole, even beyond the time you had known him. Your months training under him were grueling. He pushed you hard, kicked your ass harder. But it was effective, you learned to take a hit, how to avoid taking said hit. For a while you found yourself admiring him. His power, his speed, his agility and experience. In your early days as a devil hunter, you had found yourself drawn to him. Wanting to know about whatever tragic backstory had scarred him, damaged him so that he became so callus, so vicious. Secretly wondering if you did well enough, or lingered long enough after hours if he would confide in you. Maybe he would even---- no. You didn't allow yourself to finish that thought, at least not often. He may be handsome and fit and strong, but he was mean and probably certifiable. He was one of those guys who was born an asshole and despite his heavily borrowed time, he would one day die an asshole. 

The day was not starting well, at this rate it would be a miracle if you both held out long enough to actually face the devil. The pump began to beep, alerting you that the tire was full. You reset the machine for the next user and walked around the car and slipped back into your seat. Kishibe looked over at you boredly. You got your hand coated in whatever car road gunk, now turned them ashen and tried to brush off the bulk of it onto your pants, feeling the ickiness of it sink into your palms. 

“Gonna get dirtier than that, you sure you're up for it?” Kishibe mocked your disgust, starting the car and looking just barely backwards to back out of the pumping station. 

“I don’t remember you offering to get your hands dirty.”

Silence settled between the two of you. The drive continued, the car hummed, the radio was barely audible. Some  You turned your attention back to your cuticles, allowing the sound of wind rushing past the cracked windows to fill the silence. 

A dance pop song played on the radio, something about a woman begging her cab driver to get her to her booty call faster, before she changes her mind. Being desperate and touch starved was a feeling you knew well, especially as of late. The late nights had recently cost you your most recent in a string of casual lovers. One too ‘sorry, stuck at work.’ flake outs too many. You couldn’t blame them either, it wasn’t like you were all that present when you did manage to make it to your dates. Dating outside the company would always carry this barrier, between yourself and civilians. But dating within the walls of Public Safety carried all the traditional “don't shit where you eat” consequences, with a perfect cherry of “they, or you, will die horribly and leave the other to mourn” on top. You knew getting into Devil Hunting would make your life harder, potentially even shorter, but not getting laid? You’d rather be torn apart by the next devil you saw than forgo a good, consistent fuck. Or maybe you were just annoyed because your lover ex lover, as of late had dumped you, it meant you wouldn't be having sex this week, making this the fifth week in a row for you. Over a month of no sex. You can’t remember the last time you had gone without this long. The distraction of work kept your day-mind occupied, but when you’d return home, for however briefly, you found yourself starving for the touch of someone else. You were an effective partner for yourself, you knew your body well and particularly how to orgasm quickly and quietly, aiding your slip into sleep. But it wasn’t the same, you couldn’t lose yourself in the same way you could when you were with someone else. The way your mind would be consumed by the wholeness of the act; their movements, their body, the smell, the sight, the sounds. You’d find yourself stuck in your own head, barely rubbing out an orgasm before rolling over and falling asleep. It had been too long. Far too fucking long. 

Even thinking about how much you craved sex began to make you wet. You felt the tug behind your navel, alerting your attention lower. You fidgeted in your seat, the sun in your eyes once again, the heating of your skin making your suit jacket feel restrictive and stuffy. 

Kishibe noticed your wiggling. He watched out of the corner of his eye as you unbuttoned your jacket and tried to shrug it down your arms. Between the seatbelt and the cramped passenger side it was an awkward little dance that finally got it off you. He stayed focused on the road, praying the traffic would lighten so he wouldn’t be stuck in this ever heating box with you. You lay your jacket in your lap and adjust your seatbelt, not realizing how it found its place right across the center of your chest. Kishibe’s eyes didn’t even hesitate before peeking at the cleft between your breasts. Your shirt's fabric pulled tight, making the gaps between the buttons stretch, giving him the faintest glimpse at your skin underneath. A few rapid blinks cleared the image long enough for his eyes to turn his attention back to the road. He swallowed, tilting his neck to onside until it cracked. 

He needed a cigarette, he needed his flask out of his coat pocket, he needed something to stimulate him. Something to consume his mind other than the growing, burning thoughts. It was just the nature of the assignment. It was infecting the air of the car, shaking you both with its humid imagination. 

The Lust Devil. The Devil grown from the fear and shame of sexuality, ranging from infidelity, adultery, sexual violence, to personal repressive shame, etc. attraction and sexuality was a sensitive topic for nearly everyone alive, making its corresponding Devil powerful. Although, from the intel gathered by the information sector, its raw power wasn’t extensive. Its defensive power was harder to get an idea of, the previous reports that had been filed had been vague at the most helpful and fully redacted at the least. Hence why the top devil hunter was tasked with its capture. It had most recently been spotted in one of the shadier clubbing districts that Tokyo had to offer. Not a lot of tourists, nothing flashy, just a strip of bars, pachinko parlors, a few behind-the-false-wall establishments that were illegal, but documented. Likely favored by police or lawmakers in the area who could be bought out to turn the other way. Corruption was rife, making it the perfect breeding ground for devils. The sun was beginning to sink, the early afternoon was stretching, inching toward sunset. Finally Kishibe pulled the car into a car park six blocks from the suspected nest. He turned the key, plunging the car into silence. It felt suffocating, at least the awkwardness of the drive had been somewhat mitigated by the ambient car noise and the radio. You both hesitated for a moment before you moved to unbuckle your seatbelt. The click of the belt covered his sigh as he followed suit. You both exited the car and began to make your way out to the street. 

The air had been sticky but an evening chill tingled the back of your neck, cooling your cheeks, which you realized had been burning. He reached into his breast pocket, retrieving his flask, unscrewing the cap. You rolled your eyes at his dependence, redressing yourself in your uniform jacket. He took a sip, your eyes crept over, watching the way his throat tightened. The stubble running down his neck was getting lighter, as was the scar from lip to ear. When you had met him, it had still been pink at its deepest points, the cross hatches where staples had once been were more pronounced, which now were faded and pale. You watched as his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed whatever vice he had stashed away in advance. When you looked back up to his face he was looking back at you. He extended the curved silver flask to you. You accepted, taking a sip, trying to ignore the thoughts about the stick of his lips still lingering on the spout. You took another quick one, letting what you now knew was whiskey scorch down your tongue and throat. It was harsh and spicy, scouring down through your chest, spreading its warmth, bringing you closer to your center. You let out a long breath and handed it back and continued walking silently.

The crowds hadn’t yet died down. Throngs of people bustling in and out of buildings, waiting for crosswalks, car horns, wind, the taste of the whiskey, your senses were sharpened by circumstance so it all washed over you. Ordinarily you would have found yourself pushing through crowds, but Kishibe, at his imposing height and build seemed to create space for the pair of you. The uniform helped, that black tie and jacking becoming symbolic for people to know to leave Devil Hunters to their work, not try and engage, and certainly to not get in the way. It wasn’t long before you reached the cross street of the last reported sighting. There was no guarantee the devil would still be there, or even in the area, but you would have to start somewhere. Your left thumb had been subconsciously clawing at the cuticle line of your ring finger, it wasn't until you felt the wetness on your fingertip that you realized you had broken the skin. You pulled your hand out of your pocket and watched the blood on your nail bed bead up until the surface tension broke, making it drip down your finger. It felt auspicious, something about it made your stomach twist. Trying to put it to the back of your mind, you wiped it across your pants and pressed forward. 

Kishibe noticed your delay, and it pushed him over the precipice. The car ride, the attitude, the tire, was whatever, but you were in the field now, there wasn’t room for more of your bullshit. He gripped your arm, pulling you to the side further from the street, a hushed scold coloring his tone.

“You going to make it?” He scoffs. 

“What?” You tried to tug your arm back, his strength making your attempt look foolish.  

“You’re off your game.” He squeezed your arm harder “You can’t do anything if your mind isn’t here. Whatever problems you have with scheduling or pairing, just deal with it tomorrow. But I need you here.”

He was right, you had let too much of your external frustration seep into the task at hand. Letting your personal gripes influence work would get you killed, you had seen it first hand. Before you could tell him he was right, he spoke again. 

“If it’s a problem with me, I don’t care what you think I did. I don’t care that you think is a demotion to work with me. I don’t care. I chose you because I trained you well, you have experience, and I trust you. But it isn’t your choice. You do the job you're given, got it?” 

“You--” Your brows wrinkled, “you chose me?” 

“And regretted it nearly immediately. What the fuck happened to you?” He bit. 

“I--”, you were speechless, your callus complaining in the car ringing in your ears, the selfish indignation with which you had entered the mission, “I didn’t realize, I’m sorry.”

It was such a stupid thing to say, but it was all you had. The truth was you had missed working with him, but the stress of the job had become so overwhelming, and the years had stretched on with less and less contact, it became really easy to forget that he had been a good partner. 

“Don’t apologize to me, just fucking tighten up.” He scoffed, releasing your arm and straightening his back, “Just do your job, don’t die, when we get back and I'll rescind my request.” 

He started to turn to continue the walk but you reached out to stop him. 

“Captain wait,” You started but a crash from the alley closest to you stopped you both in your tracks. 

Stepping in time with one another you rushed to the opening of the alley, peeking around the edge of the bodega on one side and seeing nothing but shadow and the colors of sunset. Deep reds and oranges filtering over the tops of the dumpster, stretching back and back further. Two fire escapes were nearly touching about eight feet above your head. This alley didn't have a dead end, it looked to stretch at least a block and a half back, with two internal alleys stretching perpendicular about twenty feet back. It was a tight fit, but pretty standard. The time for discussion was over, you had to get to work. 

Kishibe stepped into the alley first, his dark eyes sharp and locked on the intersection between internal alleyways. You stepped in behind him, taping off the exit, indicating to any wandering pedestrians that there was a possible gas leak. Why devil hunters needed such benign sounding rouses, was above your pay grade, but still never quite made sense. You followed behind him closely, but far enough back that you could see around his broad frame. For a man as big and tall as he was, his steps did not make a sound. You couldn’t even hear the rustle of his jacket as he pulled a twenty centimeter bowie knife from his chest holster, it seemed to just extend from his hand silently. You pulled your own, smaller, but much thinner blade, from an internal pocket in your coat, along with a spool of razor thin wire. He stopped silently and you stopped not even a foot behind. If someone were to see your bodies in profile, they would see the two of you made the same shape, a light bend in the knees grounding your feet, torsos leaned forward, eyes and ears open, hands tight around your weapons of choice. You slipped on a pair of thin sheepskin gloves, something that wouldn't be penetrated by the sharp wire.  

Kishibe put his unarmed hand behind his back, showing you his palm. A signal he had taught you to mean Target Present. You took in a silent breath, he did the same. Finally you could hear the soft rustling of the devil. No, it wasn't rustling. It sounded almost like it was…talking? Like hearing a whispered conversation happening two rooms away, you can hear that there is talking, but you can’t hear what it is or even make out the voices. This didn’t sound like a voice, more like a collection of voices. It was just barely audible over the road noise and wind. But he could hear it, and now so could you. Whatever you were going to kill tonight was right behind the corner. You pushed your now gloved index finger into his palm softly. Your way of telling him I’m ready. 

There hadn’t been an alley to your right in over a block, so it was likely there was a dead end at the end of this corner.

 What Devil would corner itself? 

Before you could express your concern Kishibe stepped forward again. Then once more with his inhuman speed. Your body followed, attaching one end of your spool to the corner's edge and rushing behind him to line it along the opening, quick to attach the other side and duck underneath. He moved so fast you could barely see the Devil in front of you. It was so much…smaller than you anticipated. Only a few feet tall, thin and lanky. It was a deep grey/blue, shiny and goopy. You couldn't study it too long before you strung another line to the first ducking down to create an identical nearly invisible block a few feet lower. 

Kishibe was making quick work of rushing and slicing where he could. The Devil seemed to be making little effort to fight back, just hopping from one spot to the next. It was fast, too fast, it seemed as though it was apparating in different spots rather than moving. Left and right, behind, in an unpredictable rhythm that had Kishibe pivoting sides more than doing any damage. He was usually silent when fighting, but you heard the huffs increasing in volume as he struck out. You watched closely, trying to decipher some kind of pattern in its movement. 

Behind, right, behind, left, right, behind, left, behind….

When it struck you. Why wouldn’t it just go up?

The alley wasn’t covered, the area had only a single fire escape on the left building’s wall. You estimated it was only nine or so feet above you. From there it would be a swift jump/climb for the creature to escape to the rooftops. 

It doesn’t want to escape. 

“Kishibe!” Your voice clawed out of your throat, with no permission of yours. 

Kishibe lunged to the right, finally catching the end of the gelatinous tail, lobbing off a few inches. The Devil, now trimmed, jumped to the left. Kishibe’s eyes were fixed in the way the tail’s nub was stuck to his blade. Only for a moment, a split second of distraction considering his arsenal. Deciding between using a different blade or sticking with this one. You rushed the creature as soon as you saw his stutter step, closing in on the fighters. Just in time for it to unfurl a long, proboscis tongue. It uncoiled itself vertically like a butterfly would, taking only a fraction of a second before expelling a fine mist over the both of you. Kishibe squinted, not wanting to close his eyes completely in case of a follow up attack, but you couldn't help it, the sting in your eyes, making you squeeze them shut. It made you cough. It tasted like nothing, but the inhalation was jarring. It felt like steam, it smelled like…ambergris, or sweat or lilac. Something warm and rich and deep. Not bad, just full. And organic. 

“Don’t breathe in.” Kishibe commanded, breaking his own instruction by extension. He could feel whatever the liquid was on his lips, on his tongue, tingling the buds as the sank in. 

Finally the amalgamated voice joined into language, or perhaps the mist granted you a level of understanding you didn’t previously possess. 

Too late. 

Kishibe didn’t allow it to continue its speech, bringing his blade down through the eye of the Devil, further and further until the thing was nearly bisected. It twitched briefly before stilling itself, blood pooled around its body. 

You both had the same realization. 

“This wasn’t it.” You vocalized for both of you, no Devil would have gone down that easily, or cornered itself. 

“No it wasn’t.” Kishibe sheathed his knife, his flask found his hand, “This is just a piece of it. Probably not a very big one.”

You sighed, looking down at what remained of the bait that you had so easily fallen for. A Devil that could split itself into smaller, independently functional parts. It was horrifying to imagine the magnitude of what a power like that could do. The thing looks even smaller now split and limp on the ground, it could be useful  to try and bring it back with you, give the lab team something to study. You saw plasma or some kind of internal fluid spreading out further, faster and thinner, than the blood was. You crouched closer, trying to examine the opalescent liquid. 

“Don’t get too close.” Kishibe warned, using the upper arm sleeve of his coat to wipe blood from his face. 

You felt the dew on your own face, swiping one finger across your cheek, looking at it. Shiny, thin, with a small iridescent sheen. It was the same. Whatever sap was leaking out was the same thing the Devil had sprayed you with. 

“Flask please.” You asked. 

Kishibe handed it to you wordlessly. You dumped its remaining contents onto the asphalt. 

“What the fuck—“, he started but you tuned out. 

You tried to scoop as much of the fluid up as you could into the now empty flask. You couldn’t really get that much but even a few milliliters would be enough to study. Your heart began to pound, thoughts of poison and infection raced through your mind. If whatever that was was going to try and kill you, gathering some of the source would be the quickest way towards inoculating yourselves. 

“We have no idea what that shit was that it sprayed at us. We need a sample.” You stood up from your crouch handing the flask back to him. 

“You could’ve let me clear it first. That’s just wasteful.”, he took it back snappily, shaking his head. 

You rolled your eyes, of course he would find a way to complain about you potentially saving both of your lives. 

“Whatever. If you get sick and need this, I hope you live long enough for me to say I told you so.” You removed your gloves, “We have to be close to the nest, why else would it send out a scout?” 

Kishibe cleared his throat and blinked a few times. His head was starting to spin. That swimming, swirling feeling he usually only allowed himself once he was back home and there were no more devils to fight, no more choices to be made, only thoughts to silence and sleep to wait for. He hadn’t drunk nearly enough to be that drunk already. Usually when he was drunk his mouth felt dry, but now he was close to drowning. Swallowing down excess saliva over and over. This was something else.

Your heart was still racing, your mind chasing it down. You were starting to sweat, clammy hands and cheeks chilled by the wind that leaked into the alleyway. You felt on the verge of a panic attack, you were starting to panic when you felt it. A lick of yearning pulling at you. A pulse emerging from your clit. Your panties all too quickly became wet. Your nipples peaked and strained against the fabric of your bra painfully. Your mouth whetted itself, your tongue feeling loose and floppy among so much moisture. You no longer cared to examine the body of the Devil crumpled beneath you, you looked up to Kishibe. His eyes were darker than you had ever seen them, they seemed to be endless pools of abyss, begging, pulling, thralling you into them, into him. You had never noticed quite so closely the details of his face; high, pronounced cheekbones, hollows so symmetrical that even the long healed gash on his left cheek couldn’t take away the beauty. 

You had seen a picture once, of him in his 30s. It was buried in some file, it wasn’t a great picture, he was bloodied and bruised, you hadn’t read the whole report attached but you could assume it was some kind of incident report. In this moment, in this alley, with whatever drug was now being carried by your bloodstream, you saw him for the younger man he was once. The same man he had always been. Only for a moment, his hair fluffy and dark, skin supple and bouncy, lips not yet wrinkled by time, full and wet. Those same lips faced you now, years of smoking seemed to have skipped aging this part of him. The eyes never change, the ones in the picture had been just as cavernous, just as unreadable. Like a shark, catching the wounded, wiggling fish it had traced for miles. The black iris and pupils bleeding together, stark against the white sclera. No wrinkle or bag in their periphery would ever make those eyes less terrifying to be caught in. Those shark eyes held you steady in their gaze. 

“What?” You asked, panted, actually. 

He didn’t answer, just looked you over, taking in every inch of your body. 

“Kishibe, what?” 

He cocked his head just barely, that god awful neck crack sending a jolt straight to your flooding panties. 

“Stop looking at me like that. What is it?” Your cheeks burned, everything burned, you needed to loosen your tie or take your jacket off or fuck take everything off. 

“Do you feel it too?” His voice was different, rough, strained. 

Your blood fell cold again, despite the burn in your cheeks. Piece of the puzzle were falling together, but fuck you didnt have it in you to dare look at the whole picture yet. Your brain was starting to fuzz, boundaries of station and taboo blurring together. 

You looked up at him with concerned eyes, pulling your jacket down your shoulders and dumping it onto the dirty ground without a second thought.  “This isn't good. I feel…sick…”

But that wasn't the right word, you felt your body aching, heating and cooling too rapidly to maintain, shivers and sweats commingling into an internal hurricane. 

“What do we do? Do we just---” You couldn’t speak the lewd ideas out loud, shame clogging your throat, making it hard to breathe. 

He took one carefully measured step toward you. He wasn’t sure what to do either, he didn't have enough blood in his brain for reason, too much of it had fled to his cock. Which now strained against his pants so hard that he worried for the integrity of the button. You looked so concerned, but so good, the grime of combat appeared a better enhancement than the finest makeup in the world. Your eyes were large and wet, not crying but filling with moisture the same way his mouth was still drooling. You saw how you shifted your weight, a small gasp escaping you as--he speculated-- the inseam of your pants pressed too closely against  you. Fuck he wanted to give in, to take it away, he wanted you, he wanted you so badly he thought this might actually be the thing that finally kills him. 

You shifted again, uncomfortable under his gaze. You pulled at the knot of your tie, tugging it loose, praying it would give you some kind of relief. It did not. You undid your top buttons, hoping the evening air would cool your neck. He could see the sweat beading along your neck, for a moment he tasted the salt and sweetness on his still stinging tongue. Kishibe groaned, this was not helping his situation at all. His dick strained further, his heart wasn't even aching any more, it was spasming. Painfully. Was he having an actual fucking heart attack? 

“Okay fuck it.” He gasped out, he felt lightheaded, this was happening too quickly“This will get worse before it gets better, I need to fuck something, now, and I don’t know how long I can hold out and I know you feel it too.”

He said it. It was actually out there, hanging in the space between your two overheating bodies. Even just hearing him speak those words aloud you felt a microsecond of repose, only to bring the intensity of sensation all crashing down on you once more. It was too much to bear, you sunk to the ground. You thought you might vomit, or faint, not from repulsion, obviously not, just from the overwhelming feeling of your own blood pulsing against your ears. You keeled over onto your knees, trying to fight your body. 

Kishibe’s bad knee cracked as he crouched down to your level, one tentative hand finding the space between your shoulder blades. You moaned at the firm, warm pressure of him touching you. A broken, weak moan. One that sent him ailing once again. 

“It’s some kind of aphrodisiac…”His hand moved up and down the line of your spine, not daring too low, or too high, staying contained in the benign, sexless rectangle of your shoulders, “But a strong one.”

You nodded, his words sounded like you were underwater, you could barely make them out, the sensation of his hand on you was too distracting. 

“So what? Is it some kind of trap? A distraction?” You pled. 

“Maybe.” Kishibe’s hand stilled, he moved to sit beside you, no longer able to keep himself on his knees, “pretty good defense. Keep your opponent…” his eyes flicked down the front of your shirt, then back out quickly, “occupied. Then attack.”

Your eyes flashed open, hoping to find his face again,“So we have to move. We can’t stay here.” 

“Can you even stand?” Kishibe avoided your eyes, leaning his head back to the night side, showing you the full length of the side of his neck. 

Drool fell from your lips, you could feel the sensation of his stubble against your tongue, the thin skin under your teeth, the muscles against your lips. Your pussy pulsed again, reminding you of the cause of your wandering mind. You looked down where your spit had pooled and saw it was laced with blood. Not a lot, but more than none. Whatever this was, it was doing something to you internally. Something bad. Kishibe’s hand, once on your back, gripped the back of your neck and turned you to face him. His face was deadly serious. A blood vessel had popped in his left eye, a small red moon surrounding the dark planet. This wasn’t some avoidable awkwardness, or some traversable terrain with no consequences, this was becoming life or death.

“Do you trust me?” He had brought your face so close to his own, you could smell the tobacco on his breath, the whiskey, something sweeter. 

“Yes. Kishibe please…make it stop.” You finally begged. 

He kissed you hard, the traces of blood in your mouth invading his own. You pulled him in by his shirt, scooting yourself closer to him, the gravel underneath you digging in its teeth, making holes in your pants. He was already undoing the fly of your pants when you took your first breath. You wanted to feel him, his body, his heat, anything, you ripped through his buttons, a few of the poor bastards making their new homes amongst the garbage surrounding you. If your younger self could see you now, in the arms of your mentor, surrounded by filth and death, about to cross every boundary she knew kept you apart, she would…honestly, you probably would be elated. Pervert. 

“Open your mouth more.” Kishibe bossed. 

He spoke in sharp, clear commands when you would work together, but still you were shocked his voice in this situation would feel so familiar. You followed suit and obeyed, opening wider, welcoming in his tongue. You grabbed at his chest, his side, his back; you didn't hesitate before digging your fingers into his skin, feeling the muscle, the skin. You pulled him closer. He had one arm wrapped around your back, the other finally unfastened your pants, making no delay in slipping two of his thick fingers inside and under your panties. 

“Oh….. fuck…” He shuddered, pulling off your lips, his head and eyes rolling back in time. 

You were so wet, if your pants had been any color other than jet black, how wet you had become would be so visible it would look as though you were incontinent. He felt your sticky arousal coat his fingers. Slipping into the wrinkles of his knuckles, where the skin made room for joints to move, part of him hoped they would never leave. He hadn’t even thought about how careful he should be with you. You were strong, an excellent hunter, great speed, regularly taking devils and beasts twice your size down in a single afternoon. But this was different,he knew that and he still couldn’t stop himself from plunging both his middle and ring fingers into you hard. You cried out, your recent break in sexual contact leaving you unprepared for such immediate insertion. In a flash the hand that had held you up by your back had dropped you, and now covered your mouth, pressing you against the pavement. Your eyes flew open, pebbles and debris digging into your back. But nothing was worth feeling except for him inside of you. His thumb brushed against your clit and your hips jerked up. He fed your pussy his fingers again and again, keeping a steady pace. You pushed your pussy harder against his hand, grinding your clit against his palm. 

“Fuuuuuuuck, Kishibe.” You crooned against his hand.

“That’s it baby, open up.” He spread his fingers inside of you, “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

You opened your eyes, surprised at the affectionate name, but were stopped when you found him watching the place where his fingers entered you. After a moment of blissful watching he looked back up to you, his mouth hung open in a permanent state of breathlessness. His tie hung loose but still knotted around his neck, his lips were already swollen. Pink and perfect, your spit and his combined reflecting the moonlight back at you like a blue light.  You pulled him down to kiss you again, this time moving your tongue into his mouth. With your free hand you unbutton your own shirt more, stopping at your navel when you feel pressure start to build behind your womb. You tried to pull off his lips to warn him what was to come, but he held you in place. 

You came with no warning, quicker than you may ever have, a hearty whine ripping from your throat. He gasped, looking down again and seeing your cum trickling down his wrist. He looked back up to your eyes, a smile on the corners of  his open mouth. Before you could speak he kissed you again, moving his body over yours, before pulling you up to your feet. Your legs shook like a foal, but you didn’t need to count on them because Kishibe turned you and pressed you against the brick closest to you. The corners of the grout lines dug into the skin of your chest and your face. Kishibe’s lips had moved to your neck, teeth and tongue joining to worship your skin. One hand dug its nails into the brick in front of you, the other reached backwards to try and touch him. You felt the fabric of his shirt, hanging loose to one side, you felt part of his belt, he wouldn’t stop fucking moving. 

“I want to touch you, stop.” You wanted to sound stern, but his lips behind your ear made you whimper your instructions, “oh kishi…”

Your eyes rolled back and you pressed yourself against the wall harder, sticking your ass out. Kishibe blindly found your hand between your bodies and guided it to the front of his slacks. You gasped, he moaned into your neck. 

Finally. 

Your hand mapped his length, and his…girth. It wasn’t the longest dick you had ever encountered, but jesus christ it was the thickest. That was why he had said he didn't want to hurt you, you realized. This thing could do some real damage. You could feel his heartbeat through his pants, he shuddered against you, pressing you into the wall further, as your hand found the end, circling over the tip of his cock. 

“You’re not going to make me cum in my pants like some teenager.” He gripped your hair.

You gasped at how rough he was being. You usually had to beg for this kind of treatment. His breath was hot and damp on your neck, you circled his wet tip again. 

“You sure about that?” 

He released your hair to rip your pants off your hips, down to your knees, “Positive.” 

His belt jingled and you heard the unzip of his fly, a moment later you felt the engorged tip pressing between your legs. Fear flashed through your body, making you gasp again, tears slipped from your waterline, but your body pushed your ass further into him, sliding his cock further, so it was nestled perfectly against your folds. You shivered, the anticipation of the real point of no return, coning at you fast. You whimpered out a small, scared cry. 

“Please Kishibe, please…” you begged, “be gentle with me.” 

Kishibe stopped, the pulse in his heart lurching at how pitiful you sounded. A twinge of…maybe remorse(?) causing hesitation. He never intended for this to happen like this. You didn’t deserve to be rushed through fucking in some back alley, just steps away from an open metropolis. You deserved a bed, and privacy, and time. He would be lying to himself if he had never imagined a night with you. He knew better, he knew the nights he had spent alone, imagining just how to draw out these exact sounds from you. How he would find you alone at the bar, after some not technically mandatory, but certainly expected social time with coworkers, bring you back home and finally have you all to himself. He would indulge himself in fantasies of your body, how it would feel under him, how your hips would strain to straddle his lap, how your breasts would look freed from all bindings, no clothing to keep him from the decadence of your figure. He would have been kinder, he hoped at least.  This wasn’t anything like he had imagined. Maybe it was loss that pulled at him now. Mourning for the first night he hadn’t even realized he valued so heavily. He chose then that, despite the circumstances, and despite his arousal plagued mind, he would try his hardest to give you something closer to what you deserved. What he deserved. 

Despite the burning desire taking over his body, he slowed, moving your hair off your neck, laying tender kisses among the still indented bite marks and blooming bruises he had already laid. 

“I’ll be gentle. I promise, I’m going to take it away, okay?” He didn’t have to turn your face this time, you craned your neck to meet his lips again. 

This kiss felt different, kinder, more unified. But the bliss was supreme only momentarily, when he finally began to enter you it was immediately surpassed. You weren’t sure if it was the effects of the aphrodisiac or if it was just him, but the pleasure overwhelmed your every sense. The moon bloomed, taking your vision over completely, pleasure blinding you. A long, howling moan was released into the night sky. It was unclear who sounded it, but it didn't matter. He pushed further into you, until he was fully inside, his hips flush with your ass. You were panting, gasping, no longer kissing him, desperately trying to relax to allow him inside of you, you were gripping him too tight, he couldn’t move. 

Kishibe was struggling, you had a hold on him so tight, too tight. His back was hunched at an odd angle because of his height, he couldn't have access to your neck or lips and stand up straight. He couldn’t stay immobile like this, the strain was already becoming too much. 

“I’m sorry, I have to.” He grunted, pulling his hips back, forcing your muscles to let him go. 

Your body shook, choppy whines came from you as he thrust into you again. You were gripping the wall as hard as you could, digging your nails into any textural abnormality you could find. Your cheek stung against the brick as your face scraped against its rough surface. 

“I know. I know. Breathe, baby, breathe.” Kishibe couldn't stop his hips, which carried on finding their pace, but he tried to give you soothing words to take some of the pain away. 

 His increasingly powerful thrusts made it hard to get a steady breath, but you focused on breathing deep and not holding it or hyperventilating. After a few deep breaths, you could feel your pelvic muscles softening, the lubrication of your previous orgasm, the mess of arousal brought about by the Devil’s poison, and his pre cum soothing the stretch. The pain wasn’t gone, but it was being overshadowed by the bliss of being full of him. You weren’t even out of your clothes, your pants were around your knees, your shirt hadn’t even been unbuttoned completely, the fabric of your bra caught on the texture of the brick, your jacket had been discarded…somewhere… but it didn't matter. You were full of cock, his cock, and suddenly it was clearer to you than ever before that this was where you belonged, wet and oozing, limp and drooling, ready for him to use you how he pleased.

Once you had relaxed, Kishibe could finally get some real rhythm going, finding his hips pistoning on instinct rather than by his input. The friction, the wetness, the sweat, the smell, the sound, he was hypnotized. He no longer cared about a passerby hearing you, or if the real Devil was waiting in the shadows to ambush you, he didn’t care about anything. Anything except feeling your pussy around him every second for the rest of his life. He needed this, he needed you. He had always needed you. He bit hard on the back of your shirt collar, trying to stop the moans and grunts from escaping him. His last fuck had been some random pickup two weeks ago, she was fine, sexy, didn’t ask a lot of questions, and that was pretty much all of his criteria these days. But sex with her felt like a sneeze compared to this. He began to wonder if he was actually a virgin all the time, and this was what sex actually was.

“Harder Kishi, harder….please.” you begged, deepening the arch in your back, begging for his fat tip to kiss the wall of your cervix. 

You weren’t as tense now, still tight, but not dangerously so, he could go full force and not hurt you, and fuck was he ready to. Kishibe bent you further, one hand on your hip, the other on the back of your head. He pulled all the way back so that just the very tip was pressed against your hole. In the same moment, he gripped your hair, pulled your head off the wall and snapped his hips forward, your hands kept your shoulders from hitting the wall too hard, his hold on your hair kept your face safe. But nothing could have prepared you for the burst of pain/pleasure that filled your nervous system. Without any time to prepare, he repeated this action. He found a new rhythm, brutal and fast. Out to the tip, in to the base. You didn't even realize the volume of the choked cries you were letting out until his hand found its way to your mouth again. One finger pulling at the corner of your mouth, making your gag. 

“Shut up.” His stern voice was back, the gentility had vacated when he felt himself bottom out,“you want anyone off the street to come back here and see you like this?”

Both you and he didn’t miss the way his hypothetical made your pussy clench around him. 

“Or maybe you would?” He snapped his hips again, deeper, sending you gasping, “You want everyone to see what a slut you are, huh?”

He was a man possessed, nothing that came out of his mouth had crossed his mind before, and yet it felt truer than saying his own name. He continued:

“Everyone should see me fucking you, so they know. Your perfect little hole is all for me. I can’t believe you had this the whole time and you kept it from me.” He brought his hand down on your right ass cheek, “How dare you. This pussy was made for me.” another spank, “This pussy belongs to me, understand. Your body belongs to me.” he spanked you again, on the same exact spot. 

You screamed at the third spank, the skin was so hot, you could already feel it welting. Your wetness was spilling down your legs, his harsh hands and possessive words making you wetter with every syllable.  

Another spank came, “Say it. Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You!”

A kind rub over your cheek brought down your defense, before he spanked again, even his own palm starting to sting, “and who does your body belong to?”

You cried out again, his hips relentless as he tortured you, “You! Kishibe, you!” 

“Mmm, good.” He smoothed a hand over your wounded cheek, only to dig his nails into the sensitive meat, lean into your ear and speak again, “and who do you belong to?”

“You! Kishibe you, I belong to you.”

He dug his nails in harder, “Who?”

“You Kishibe, you!” You tried again, only to see him raise his hand out of the corner of your eye. 

“Captain!” You tried again. 

The hand cracked against your skin, “Wrong again.”

Your legs were barely hanging on, the assault on your ass making your knees shake and your arms scrape down the wall.

“Who am I?”

It hit you. 

“Master.” You sighed out, knowing you had gotten it, the name he felt most suited him when he had this much power over someone, “I belong to you, master.” 

Pride blossomed in his chest, he brought a non threatening hand down across your aching backside, petting your hip softly, feeling the down hairs at the base of your pelvis grow coarser as he parted your center, his middle finger finding your clit. 

“That’s right, baby. Good.” He circled your twitching clitoris. 

Your legs shook harder, ‘Master…master I can’t I ca--”

But you did, you came again, spasming around his cock, which he buried deep inside of you for you to ride out your climax, still petting at your clit. He continued until you gathered the strength to pull his hand away. 

“awh..”He cooed in your ear, “can’t take it anymore, can you?” 

You shook your head. He began moving his hips again, pumping into you again and again, “Poor girl, can’t keep up with the old man, huh?” 

These taunts seemed not of his own creation, but he still couldn't stop them.

“How long have you dreamt of this? Years? And look at yourself, was this what you imagined? Pants around your ankles, surrounded by trash, falling to pieces after barely getting started?” He mocked, “How disappointing, all that time to prepare and still you can barely keep up. Looks like I got to you too late.” 

But that was when you heard it. He heard it. The words were not his own. The voice, it was covered, influenced…filtered in some way. Coming from his desperate mouth, but not his. He noticed it too. It was getting closer, the real Lust Devil, not one of its parts. There was no telling how little time you would have before its arrival. He stilled his hips, against every screaming cell in his body that wanted to continue. 

“Stand up.”he ordered, and despite your trembling legs you did, “we have to move now. Break the wires.” 

In a Devil hunting first for you, you pulled up your pants, lamenting the amount of liquid arousal that would now find its home in your panties, and donned your gloves to remove the razor wire from the alley’s opening. Adrenaline and endorphins keeping your hands steady, you felt empowered, more so than you had crumbled on the floor in pain prior to this whole endeavor. Maybe the two orgasms had worked some of the effects to the back of your mind, hitting snooze on the incline, however brief. Your watch read 7:58 pm. 

“Should we—?” You started, feeling like maybe this was your chance to take this thing down for real. 

Kishibe, who had now tucked himself back safely inside his slacks, still achingly hard, rushed past you, grabbing your hand and turning the corner towards the exit. 

“Nope. We are in no condition to fight.” He pulled you along, you could barely keep up with his leggy gait. 

“But I feel like—…”

“Fine! I’m in no condition to fight. Come on.” He tugged you further towards the street. 

You kept your eyes on his back, the street lights in front of him giving him a corona of light, making him seem deific. You heard scuttling, shambling behind you, growing closer. The voice returned, or maybe it had always been there? But now you heard your own voice, and Kishibe’s, your pants and grunts together, his nasty taunts, your pleading begs. You had joined whatever collection this thing was creating. You didn’t dare look back. You knew about Sodom and Gomorrah, about Orpheus and Eurydice, you knew better than to look back when you were so close to salvation. 

Kishibe pulled you both out of the line of the alley, and you both burst into the night street. He stopped a few steps from the alley’s entrance, in the open light of the street, you bumped into his back, but he was quick to physically guide you to his side instead, keeping one arm around you, still desperate to have you close. The beast didn’t venture into the light. It stayed eight or so yards from the entrance, away from prying eyes. It made no sound or retreat, but it made no charge either. And that was good enough for Kishibe. He tugged you along, pulling you past the much smaller crowd, and back in the direction of the car. The ache was building again inside of you, how could it be asking more from you already. He hadn’t even cum once yet, by your own mental calculations he was probably running on pure adrenaline. 

“Kishi?” Your voice was still hoarse. 

He kept walking. 

“Kishi, baby?” You tried again, slowing your pace just slightly. 

He tugged you further, still not waiting for your question. 

“Kishibe, what’s the plan?” You got tired of waiting for his permission, you stopped, “you can’t drive like this, I can’t either. It's at least thirty minutes back to the office, and I don’t think we can do much there!”

“Fuck!” He stopped and turned to face you, coming close, his voice threatening, “I’ll fuck you right here if we don’t find somewhere else. 

His other eye had a small hemorrhaged vessel as well. Two identical spots in either eye. Your heart burned at the sight, at his desperation. He needed you, he needed you to find somewhere where he could relieve himself, where he could have you at the fullest with no interruption, either from peril or from prying eyes. You flashback through your entrance to the area, what had you passed, what had you seen? There was something, there had to be, or else you wouldn’t feel so sure of it. You just had to remember. Fuck! Your mind was still scrambled. He was growing restless, his grip on your arm growing tighter and tighter. He inched closer and closer, you became aware of the passersby, witnessing you bruised and scratched in the grip of a much larger, desperate man. It wasn’t a good look. 

Wait..

“A love hotel! We passed one on the way here! It had a lit up sign in the front window!” You finally remembered. It couldn’t have been more than a block away. 

He groaned, picturing the check in process and the seedy room,. But fuck, if he was ever desperate, it was now. 

“Find it.” He ordered, letting you lead the way. 

You took his hand and led him down the sidewalk. You were right, it wasn't even three full blocks away. A tall building, a large neon flower in the window, a white awning hanging above.. 

“Just, don’t talk, okay?” You told him as you walked inside he rolled his eyes but followed you.

A bored looking clerk sat at the desk, he had a pair of bulky headphones plugged into a walkman on his desk. A chime rang out as you entered, but the music must have been too loud, he didn't flinch. He didn't move until you approached the desk. He ripped off his headphones as though you were his boss catching him slacking off, but his frightened eyes grew suspicious as he took in the pair of you. Your shirt was buttoned wrong, your tie was lost somewhere, as was your jacket. Your cheek was bleeding, bruises on your neck unhidden by the haphazard collar. Kishibe looked no better, blood on his shirt, which was missing quite a few buttons, tie still on, but barely, his hair was a mess. His usual stoic scowl had been replaced with a harsh glare trained directly at the clerk, his foot tapping like a caged animal.  

“Excuse me, hello. We would like to check in.” You tried your best to sound casual.

“Um…” The clerk hesitated. 

“We’re…”You thought on your feet and said the first thing that you could think of, “Engaged! We just got engaged, I mean. And our..in laws! Yes, our in-laws are in town and we don't have a lot of privacy and we just want to…celebrate.” 

The clerk eyed you both again, analysing you and Kishibe individually and no doubt trying to parse together how you would fit as a couple. 

“We would like an overnight room.” You continued, trying to remind him of the actual task at hand. 

Kishibe was stunned by your plan, by how bold it was, and how poorly you were pulling it off. You worked at a secret (ish) organization, for fuck’s sake. But he was amused by your efforts, so he doubled down with you. 

He wrapped a big arm around your shoulder, leaning over the desk, “Maybe something with a tub.” 

The clerk nodded, whatever was in front of him was none of his business, he saw plenty of strange pairs come through the lobby. And anywhere there was no way he was getting his ass kicked by this guy at his current pay rate. 

“Yeah…okay,I just need a credit card to put on file.” He finally explained. 

Your wallet was safely tucked in the car, you didn’t have anything. You hadn’t even considered this part, how could you have not thought about this? Kishibe pulled a leather card carrier from his coat pocket, not a credit card but his Public Safety clearance badge and slapped it down on the counter. 

“How’s that card work?” He hissed. 

The clerk scanned it briefly, sighing, probably lamenting the admissions given to government workers and retrieved a key from the corkboard behind him and handed it over. 

“Whatever man, just don't break anything.” He had checked out of the conversation the moment Kishibe had approached, he put his headphone back on, “Fifth floor. Check out is at 10am.” 

Kishibe took the key and his badge and pulled you toward the elevator. 

“Thank you!” You waved to the clerk, just barely getting it out before the elevator doors closed. 

You had half expected Kishibe to pounce on you the moment they did, but he stayed still. Watching the numbers above the door illuminate and dim. 

“So when’s the wedding?” He finally spoke at the illumination of the third floor. 

“Shut up, it got us here, didn’t it?” You laughed. 

“Right, it was your stellar in-law cock block story that got us up here, and not the government issued free pass badge.”, He cracked a smile. 

You both laughed, the chime of the elevator alerted you the doors would open on the fifth floor. The tag on the key was for room 5102, close to the elevator. Kishibe pressed you forward by your waist, leading you out of the elevator and down a few doors to the room. He unlocked the door and you stepped inside. The room was fine, a large king bed placed in front of a boxy, but relatively new tv. A radio clock on one night stand, a lamp on the other. The door shut and locked behind you, Kishibe fasted the chain lock, the dead bolt, and the handle lock, then turned back to you. He saw the abrasion on your cheek, the blood beginning to dry. He took your face in his hands, running his thumb along the outside of it. Guilt pulled at the back of his brain, but fuck he couldnt hold out anymore, he circled his other arm around your back and pulled you in to his mouth. Without the urgency, without the danger, he could kiss you and feel like he earned it. He kissed you deeply, tilting your head back, tasting your mouth, pushing you back toward the bed. You melted in his arms, finally feeling them for how sturdy and safe they could be. Your tongue pushed against his, his hand frond your hair, you found the front of his pants, unbuttoning them quickly. Where his belt had gone was a mystery, but none of your concern. You pushed them off his legs until your knees met the edge of the mattress. You tugged at the rest of your shirt buttons, pulling it off of you and tossing it aside, your tie followed. He finally let you leave his kiss to pull his own shirt over his head and off, his coat seeming to have disappeared. You both shuffled out of your pants and underwear, You reached behind to unclasp your bra, shrugging it down your arms. The process taking only seconds but feeling like a frigid, isolated eternity separated from him. It was like you were magnetized, pulled together by a gravitational force that took everything in you to resist. He stood in front of you, bare, studying your figure, trying to commit every inch of your body to memory. Every freckle, every scar, every bend and shadow of muscle, every fold, everything. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was, to see you in your truest form, wanton and waiting. He thanked whatever evil caused this Devil’s creation, and cursed himself in the same breath for doing so. But trailing his hands up your curves, to take hold of your full, perfect breasts, he found himself brought to his knees before you, a zealot at the altar of you. You let him push you back onto the bed, the cushioned mattress underneath you was nirvana compared to the grit and gravel he had taken you on before. Your legs spread themselves, no longer needing your guidance, no longer held together by your barely removed pants. Kishibe’s wet tongue moved up your leg, he could taste your sweat, and he reveled in it until he found his next vice, your legs were still coated in the arousal that leaked from you, sticking to your skin under your pants and now coating his tongue, destroying his mind. Or what was left of it. 

Tasting you brought him higher and higher, cleaning your soiled thighs, swirling his tongue over the top of your knee, flattening the soft hairs with his tongue, spit laying them flat in his wake. Your hips jerked up as he joined you on the bed, agile body moving between your legs. He pulled your legs further apart, not bothering to look at your face. No, his eyes were fixed on your pussy as you spread open for him. Your perfect, drooly, needy cunt parting itself, drawing him forward. He made no effort to stop the line of saliva that dripped from the corner of his mouth, he didn’t even feel it. He didn’t feel anything, anything except hunger, except want, except need. Perfect folds and layers, ready for him, begging for his touch, you really were made for him. In a single look he forgot every piece of fine art he ever saw, every inch of his earth that any numb skull could have called glorious, he knew glory now. True glory. And he needed it to be his, to claim it for his own. 

Kishibe had moved to his knees, hands firm on your legs to either side of him, hunched over your body, you felt shy under such an intense stare, right to where you were most vulnerable. You reached up and brushed your fingertips over his cheek and back around his ear bringing his attention back to your face. 

“Kishibe…”You moaned in a whisper. 

You looked so desperate underneath him, the pillow lucky to be graced with your hair, him, even luckier to bear witness to such beauty. Your mouth hung open slightly, pupils blown out under heavy lidded eyes. Your breasts rising shakily with panting breaths. 

“Please, I can’t wait anymore, Kishibe please,” You begged, tugging him by his neck, “Fuck me.” 

The jolt that sent through his body could knock out every electrical grid in Japan. He pulls your hips down to him, then lifts them to be level with his own. Holding you up with one hand, his other aligns his cock with the hole he could now picture with perfect clarity. His dark eyes caught yours, he watches them fly open as he penetrates you. Finally able to take you how he needs, he is able to slide into you deliciously, pressing against your g spot. Your back arches up under his hand, but he follows, not able to stand being parted from you. It would take an act of God to remove him, at this point. Your tight walls tremble around him, working their hardest to allow him inside. It was bizarre, impossible, inhuman. You subconsciously press against his stomach. Pushing him away, unable to handle the deluge of pleasure and pressure he is causing.

He grips your hips harder, bruising them, and presses into you more, “where do you think you’re going.” 

You whimper as he presses against your cervix, grabbing at the bed sheets, trying to leverage your hips back, but finding the bed is blocking your escape. And still your legs wrap around his hips, torn between trying to pull him inside further, and trying to free yourself.  One of his rough hands leaves your hip and he takes your hand in his, interlocking your fingers. You melt back down into the bed, giving him the room to pull his hips back. Kishibe leans over you, laying you back on the bed, blocking out the still illuminated overhead light with his shoulder as he thrusts into you again. He squeezes your hand harder with every thrust. His lips find your neck again, your hands wrap around his neck, tangling in his soft, white hair. He fucks into you fast, pushing himself, and your poor body to their limits, you have no choice but to hold on and succumb to the waves of pleasure. 

He kisses you again, lips hot and swollen, “So good.” 

He repeats it like a mantra, again and again as he bottoms out inside and pulls back. He can’t do anything but repeat it. The friction, your lips, finally having you for himself since this whole ordeal began, he can’t last. 

The praise, the feeling of him inside, the relief of a bed under you, the feeling of his pelvis rocking against your clit, it all becomes too much and you feel yourself tighten around him. You know he feels it too because he grips your hand and breaks the kiss to cry out in delicious agony. 

“Don’t--.”Is all he manages to let out before his climax blinds him, the lamp light blooming white and over taking all his senses. 

The obscene sounds he makes and the sight of his pleasure scrunched face push you to follow him, cumming for the third time. 

His cock pulses inside of you, painting your insides with his cum. He feels like it will never end, he doesn’t want it too. Kishibe wants to see your tummy swollen, a trail of cum dripping out from between your legs, your face covered in it, your tongue full of it. He wants you full, inside and out, marked as his, full of him, for all to see. He wants you round and pregnant, showing off everything he has done to you. He wants to see you helpless and bred, full breasts ready to be fed from. 

He’s losing his fucking mind. 

He had never wanted children in his life, he made medically sure of it nearly two decades ago, but right now if he could stitch it back together himself he would. Coming back to himself, he sees you panting below him, and nearly cums again. Your mouth hinges open, and your tongue flops out. 

“Spit.” You huff. 

His face must have betrayed his surprise. 

“Please, I need it, please,” You please, “Spit in my mouth, please, Kishi.” 

He takes your face in his left hand, tilting it back, extending your mouth even more with his thumb on your chin. He lets a full, slow string of saliva fall from his mouth into yours, watching it slip down your tongue. You lap it up eagerly, leaning up to lick some stray fluid off of his chin. Your pussy squeezes him again as you move. You keen back happily, the taste of him in your mouth, and the feeling of him inside of you bringing you a blissful feeling of balance. 

“Nasty girl…”He chides, leaning back onto his knees, watching your eyes flutter closed. 

A smile upturns your perfect lips, “mmmmmhm.”

“I have to pull out now.” He warns, you let out a long, displeased whine as he does. 

Coming down from your own high, you catch your breath on the bed, only reopening your eyes when the bed sinks next to you, you turn your neck to him. His flushed, bruises on his neck, his chest, scratch marks on his arms and chest, the two red bursts in his eyes, you hadn’t realized you were so rough on him. He looked over your figure, seeing the abrasions on your chest from the brick, the marks of his teeth, the bruises his hands left on your body, the cut on your cheek. A Pair. 

You brush a disarranged hair off his temple, gentle fingers feeling the sweat cooling on his brow. 

“How do you feel?” You whispered, voice hoarse. 

He moves onto his back beside you, taking your hand in his, kissing the back, and bringing it down to his chest, over his heart. You could feel the rhythm steadying itself.

“Coming down.” He studies your face, “How do you feel?”

You nodded, “Good, a little sore.” 

“Do you think it’s over?”

You shrugged, “I feel better? Less like I am going to die, which is good.” 

He nodded, his mind was clearing, the virus releasing its hold on him. He tried to remember his usual bedside manner,“You should probably…you know…”

You smiled again, moving carefully to sit up, “I didn’t expect you to be so diligent about UTI avoidance.” 

He leaned up on his elbow, “You don’t know me as well as you think.” 

“I like what I’m learning.” You flirted, standing and walking to the small bathroom. 

Kishibe watched your behind sway as you left him. Once the door was shut behind you, he fell on his back staring up to the ceiling. Everything that had transpired tonight flashed through his mind, his cock had hardly softened but now it ached again. Would this ever be over? And when it did, what would become of you two. The poison still plagued his mind, it was a logical jump to assume it was still affecting you too. He didn’t know how to be around you after this, he couldn’t even begin to picture the logistics of bringing you back to work, seeing you everyday and knowing everything he knew now. He wanted to know what you thought, if you felt differently about him, if this was a bizarre, horrible accident that ruined any kind of real feeling that could have existed between the two of you. He couldn’t bear waiting anymore, he had to be close to you again before this ended. He stood, joints clicking, dick hard, and crossed to the bathroom door. He knocked.

“Yeah?” your voice rang from the other side of the door. 

He hesitated, pressing his forehead against the wood, fighting back the words that were about to come out, “Can I come in?” 

You were silent behind the door for a few seconds, he wasn't sure how he expected you to respond. 

“Sure, it’s unlocked.” Your voice came again. 

He turned the nob and opened the door, you were standing at the sink, cleaning the cut on your cheek. 

“Got lonely in there?” You smiled at him through the mirror, and it warmed his fearful chest.  

Kishibe wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you from behind as you carried on dabbing a cool cloth on your face. He hummed an affirmative response, against your neck, smelling deep the smell of your skin. He occupied himself pressing kisses to your neck and shoulder while you finished. His eyelashes tickled behind your ear and you caught his eyes in the mirror as you giggled. 

“You’re clingier after sex than I expect.”

He kept your gaze in the mirror, “Expected, huh? Thought about this before?” 

Why lie, call it exhaustion, or maybe the poison was still working on you, “Yeah.” 

He didn’t flinch, still looking at you through the glass, “Me too.” he confessed. 

You turned in his hold, the reflection no longer enough of a view for you, you had to look at his face, his real face. 

“So why didn’t we ever…?” 

He shrugged, “Didn’t seem right,” but that wasn’t the full truth, “Didn’t want to lose you.” 

You were touched by his admission, his vulnerability. Certainly the influence of adrenaline crash and hormonal endorphins racing through both of you. You felt your throat tighten, your tear ducts start to burn. Sex always complicated things, especially when jobs and feelings were involved. Depending on how the morning played out, this could be the last time you had the chance to be exposed and alone with him. 

“I don’t want to lose you either.” One hot tear fell from your eye, stinging your freshly cleaned cheek. 

Kishibe wiped the tear away, his face still as unreadable as ever, “then you won't. Not yet.”

“What do you want? From all of this, I mean.” You asked him, not accusation or malice in your voice. 

Kishibe sighed, smoothing your hair and holding your face, “I want to enjoy being here with you, while we work this out of our systems. Tomorrow morning I would like to drive you home, so you can rest. We will file the report, be only as honest as we want to be, give the sample to the lab, clock out, and then figure it out from there.” 

Then he moved his hands down to your shoulders, pulling you even closer and kissing you hard. A kiss that was devoid of the Devil’s influence, no hungry, tasting tongue, no hot, fevered breath.  Just his lips sealed to yours, your body pressed against his, and a promise to try. When he pulled away he spoke again, 

“But right now I want us both to get in that tub.” 

The night didn’t end there, the waves of fervent arousal lapped over both of you again and again, but the tide had gone out. The coast was cleared, leaving a sparkling landscape on which the both of you could relax.

Epilogue

The bath had been the perfect remedy for your bruised and abused body. It soothed Kisibe’s aching joints. He washed and rinsed the debris out of your hair, you cleaned the blood off of his hands and neck. His fingers worked over you, bringing you a slower, gentler climax. Back in the bed, clean and dry, you reciprocated his generosity. Sucking, kissing, swallowing everything he had given to you so brazenly before. Laying together in the dark, sleep was hard to find. Whenever you thought it would overtake you, bringing you back into an embrace to pleasure yourselves and each other. Eventually, morning came. Whether you had woken up to the sunlight, or you were too engaged to realize it had come up, was unclear. 

You left the hotel in the early afternoon, returning to the car which had a citation for exceeding the parking meter. Kishibe drove you back to your apartment, pulling up and parking outside. 

“Okay.” He turned to you, the light of day illuminating complexities that hadn’t yet been considered, “They won't be expecting us back until tomorrow, anyway. So you should try and get some sleep.” 

You nodded, “Yeah. Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime.” 

“I meant the car.” You teased. 

He chuckled. You didn’t want to get out, you weren’t ready to be done. Tomorrow would mean talking about what happened, reports had to be filed, incident reports, lab tests, possibly declaration of relationship forms. You gnawed on your lip. Kishibe watched you closely, seeing you weigh out each thought, waiting for the perfect way to phrase what you were after. 

You met his eyes, the devious flicker in your eye that he now knew the motivations of intimately shining at him once again,“You wanna come upstairs, take a nap and fool around a little?”

Kishibe sucked in a breath through a sly smile, his exhausted cock already jumping forward at the chance. 

“Absolutely I do.”

Thank you for reading!!! I hope you enjoyed, I really enjoyed writing this piece and I hope that comes through!! Fuck I want this man so bad. literally so bad. Let me know your thoughts, I always love hearing what you do/dont like. Anyway, thanks again! See you next time! - Doodle <3

[baie-moeg]

csm

[alexfoundausername]

Love them

[coffeebellexc]

Young Kishibe and quanxi rkgk

[xxsabitoxx]

Experience

Kishibe x Fem! Reader

Warnings: large age gap (reader is in her 20s but it’s unspecified) and Kishibe is 50, car sex, hand job, degrading, praising, smoking

A/N: this was meant to be a short 1-1.5k Drabble but it turned into a mini smut instead (my brain is weird so some of y’all may still consider this a Drabble or you may consider it a full fic… idk man) anywho here he is :)

Word count: 2.6k

“You… you can’t be serious, oneechan.” Denji was staring at you with an udon noodle hanging between his lips. You chuckled at Denji’s constant use of calling you “big sis” — Aki had reprimanded him forever ago about using formalities with you. You had told him senpai was far too much and that calling you oneechan was fine. Still, it made you chuckle that it was the only nickname he ever stuck too with no bribery needed. Aki still used the gum tactic to get Power and Denji to use the correct terms while addressing him.

“I am serious.” The smile never left your face, watching as Denji slurped his noodle the rest of the way. “But why? He’s so old! Hell he’s over half your age! Ain’t he like 50 or something? And you’re like 20-something? I doubt he can even get his dick hard!” You rolled your eyes, laughter bubbling in your chest as Denji’s clear shock at your crush on his mentor. You’d known Kishibe since you joined public safety a few years prior, having worked alongside Aki when it came to training under the man’s brutal regime.

“Oh I doubt that. Kishibe is a man of experience, he probably has over 30 years worth with women.” Denji still couldn’t see how that would appeal to you, if anything he thought it should be a turn off. “That’s 30 years of use. You’ll probably catch a disease.” At that you couldn’t help but snort, putting your cigarette to your lips and inhaling. “Just think about it for a second, Denji. Wouldn't you want a woman that knows what she’s doing? One that would know how to take care of you?”

“I mean yeah, but maybe a woman that’s only a couple years older than me. You’re going after a man that was well into adulthood by the time you were born.” You shook your head, finding it rather funny that Denji was seemingly peeved by this. “That’s real bold coming from you, Denji-kun.” The blonde quirked his eyebrow, eyeing you suspiciously as he went in for yet another helping. “You and your crush on Makima? The fact that she seems to reciprocate your advances? Kinda a similar situation… but mine is legal.”

You shrugged your shoulders, blowing the smoke you had inhaled. “Yah, whatever… go for your creepy old man then.” He stuck his tongue out as you rolled your eyes, a victorious smile still present on your lips. “No really…” he drawled softly “he’s right there.” You froze, head whipping around to the direction Denji had motioned to. Sure enough, Kishibe was sitting at the bar, a glass of whisky in front of him… typical. You turned back to Denji, utterly mortified. “You don’t think he heard us, do you?” The blonde shrugged, a shit eating grin creeping up his face.

“Denji!” You whisper yelled this time, face growing warm. “Huh?” He spoke a little louder than necessary “I don’t think he heard? What’s the big deal anyways? Ain’t you want him to know? So you can like…actually do something about ya crush?” He drawled loudly, enough to draw a few wandering eyes to your table. “N-not the point! Shut up!” You were snuffing out your cigarettes on the underside of the table seconds later, ready to make a quick escape before Kishibe could even notice you there.

The problem being, you knew your old mentor fairly well. It was more than likely that he was already aware of your presence. Not only that but you were nearly positive he’d probably heard you and Denji talking about him. You wouldn’t be able to escape him unless you put a conscious effort into sneaking out of here. Even then, he’d find a way to corner you and ask you what the hell was going on. “Eh, whatever oneechan… at least I have the guts to go for the people I like.” Now you knew you were done for.

If Denji was going to make this a game of confidence, you’d have to do your “big sister” duties and simply one up him. “You’re a pain in my ass.” You scoffed, watching the grin return to the blonde’s face as you pushed your chair out. “You can thank me later.” Was all he said, returning to his udon as you made your way to the bar. “Captain Kishibe.” You fought to keep your voice steady. Kishibe turned to look at you, the usual stoic expression on his face.

“Come to talk to the creepy old man sitting alone at the bar?” He chimed softly, watching your face morph into embarrassment as he confirmed your biggest fear. He heard everything you and Denji had said. “Blame blondey over there for that nickname. Guessing that if you heard what Denji had to say you also heard what I had to say.” Your arms clasped behind your back, fidgeting with your fingers nervously as you waited for him to speak.

Kishibe swirled his glass around, watching the amber liquid slosh before he brought it to his lips and downed the rest. “Oh, I did. Not that I’m shocked… you’re far more transparent with your emotions than you think you are, y/n.” You could have melted on the spot, seeped straight into the floorboards and disappeared forever. Instead, you shifted your weight from foot to foot, willing yourself to grow some confidence and test the waters. It didn’t seem he was necessarily shutting you down just yet.

“Well… I guess this was a pretty lame ass way of saying I have a thing for my old mentor.” Kishibe leaned back, eyes shutting briefly as he inhaled through his nose. “You’re just looking for someone to show you a good time. Tell me, have you ever actually enjoyed any of the men you’ve slept with?” His eyes opened and he turned to face you fully now, tapping the wooden top of the bar twice to signal that he was ready to pay his tab. “Truthfully, no.” A breathy chuckle left him, one that sent shivers down your spine.

“I see. I guess that would make it my duty, Hmm? Your old mentor has to show you the ropes… show you the good from the bad. A private lesson, if you would.” You didn’t quite know how to react, your brain working in overdrive to try and process the words he had just spoken. “S-so you’re saying you’ll…” you flinched at your own stutter, watching Kishibe eye you carefully. “That I’ll show you how a man properly satisfies a lady? Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying, Sugar.” Your heart jumped at the nickname.

You found it hard to speak, instead you kept your mouth shut and watched your old mentor pay his tab before grabbing his coat off the back of his chair. “I paid for the fool’s meal as well as yours, he’ll get home on his own just fine. Let’s go.” Kishibe was heading towards the door, you waited till he was facing away to shoot Denji a look. The blonde seemed a bit awestruck that you were already leaving with him, you just shrugged as you left. You’d probably have to apologize the next time you saw him.

Before you knew it you were slipping into the passenger side of Kishibe’s car, thanking him softly for opening and closing the door for you. He slipped on the other side a moment later, turning the key so the engine roared to life. “I didn’t think you were the car type.” You commented softly, eyes scanning the amount of gadgets that littered the dashboard. The car’s interior was all black leather, that was at least something you expected from him.

“I’m not but the holiday bonus was nice and I needed an upgrade anyways.” He cracked his window, lighting up a cigarette before pulling out of the restaurant’s small lot and out into the bustling street. You didn’t expect him to be nervous, nor did you expect him to be awkward about the situation. Yet you were practically squirming in your seat, hoping he’d show some sort of nervousness to help you feel less inexperienced.

His cigarette hung half hazardously from his lips, one hand on the wheel while the other came down to rest on your thigh. You nearly choked on your own saliva, heat pooling in your gut at the simple action. “Amuse me, would you? What’s the best thing a guy has done for you, Hmm?” Smoke puffed out around his cigarette, eyes locked on the road as he waited for your response. “Offer to walk me home.” You admitted sheepishly, not quite sure how he’d react to such a lame response. It was true your taste in men hadn’t really benefited you in any way up until now.

He let out a gruff laugh, slowing down as he pulled up to a red light and plucked the cigarette from his lips. “That’s it? Seriously? Where the hell are you finding these bummy men?” You weren’t sure why his clear annoyance affected you the way it did, but you found yourself struggling to not press your thighs together. A small effort to relieve some of the ache, you knew if you moved your legs even a little he’d feel it. Then again, he was driving you back to his apartment to fuck you… would it really matter? “No need to be tense.” He murmured softly, hand squeezing your thigh.

“…’m not tense.” A stupid lie but it made him chuckle so you couldn’t really be mad at it. “Let me help you relax.” The cigarette was back between his lips, hand on the wheel as the light turned green. Kishibe pushed on your thigh, silently asking you to spread them. It took your brain a few seconds to properly respond, spreading them just enough that he could fit his hand between them. “Atta girl…” smoke puffed out around his lips once again, filling your nose in an almost intoxicating way. You were a bit shocked by the praise, nearly letting a whimper slip out.

The man you knew as your mentor was certainly not the same as the man sitting beside you. Then again you doubted he would ever woo the amount of women he did with his mentor attitude. Kishibe’s hand gingerly crept up your thigh before dipping between to cup your panty covered cunt. You mentally thanked yourself for wearing a skirt, giving the man in the driver's seat easy access to where you wanted him the most. He could feel your warmth radiating through the thin material, on top of that he could tell you were already wet.

Kishibe exhaled deeply, forcing himself to remain focused on the road even though he’d really like to look over and gauge your reaction. Truthfully, he had been waiting patiently for quite some time now for you to be the one to make the first move. He wasn’t lying when he said you were transparent with your emotions, but even then he didn’t want to risk creating awkward situations. He was getting old after all, a fifty year old man going for a woman in her twenties would certainly look terrible on his part if the other party didn’t reciprocate.

Maybe he was just a creepy old pervert for thinking that way.

Regardless, it was starting to get hard to ignore the persistent stiffness between his own legs. You’re breathing had hitched, suddenly dizzied by the fact that his hands were already on you. Two fingers pressed against the wetmark on your panties, drawing a sigh from your lips as he rubbed the material softly. “You’re more excited than you let on.” it was an off hand comment, one that had your fingers gripping the door handle to keep yourself grounded. Kishibe’s fingers slid along your slit, settling over your pulsing clit.

“You’ve said no man has ever satisfied you… I take it because he didn’t know where this was…” he pressed down, sending a shock of pleasure through you. Your mouth opened but nothing came out, slowly he began rubbing tentative circles, making sure you keep his fingers on the cloth of your panties. He wouldn’t let you feel his bare fingers just yet. More smoke puffed out, filling the car briefly before being sucked out the window. “I asked you a question, sugar.” you turned to look at him, face warm as his fingers continued to pleasure you. “T-that would be right…”

“Every woman is different, is this good for you?” you knew he was referring to his current action. “Y-yeah but…” you reached for his hand, placing yours over his as you guided him to a faster tempo. Kishibe took the reins again instantly, chuckling softly as you let out a soft moan. “Hmm, that better?” it was low, enough you send shivers through you as your hips jerked into his hand. “Need more…” you couldn’t quite figure out what specifically you needed, you just knew you needed more of him. “I know.” was all he said, fingers working you up continuously as he drove.

Part of you had to wonder if he was even driving you to his apartment at this point. It felt like you were going in circles around the city as he got you off in his front seat. Before you knew it, you felt your orgasm creeping up on you. “S-shit…” you clenched around nothing, the tension in your gut had appeared a lot quicker than usual. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” he teased softly, fingers picking up speed ever so slightly. You mumbled out some sort of ‘yes’, gasping softly as the tension continued to build.

Maybe it was the combination of everything, Kishibe, his hand, the fact that he was doing this almost absentmindedly while driving through the city, everything was edging you on. “Then cum for me. Show me how much of a little slut you are. I mean really, you’re going to cum from me rubbing you through your panties. You’ll ruin them.” You whined at his words, the tension building so intensely that you were certain you’d fall apart. “Atta girl…cum for me” encouraged again, rolling to a stop at yet another red light.

He looked over at you know, the sudden motion causing you to turn to look at him. “C’mon… no need to hold back.” he sneered, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. You felt your lower lip tremble, head turning to look back at the road as your orgasm crashed down over you. Breathless gasps escaped your lips, hand shooting down to hold Kishibe’s wrist as he continued to work you through your ogasm. “…ough… enough…” you squeaked, overstimulation taking over as the light turned green.

He only slowed because of the light turning green, hand never retracting from where it was between your legs. “Here we are.” He commented offhand, pulling into the parking lot of his apartment building. You blinked, the throb already returning. “Hope you’re not worn out… I haven’t even gotten to show you a proper good time.” He pulled into a numbered space, shifting into park and plucking the nearly gone cigarette from his lips. You watched him put it out on an ashtray in his cup holder, turning the car off a moment later.

“Well?” You shivered as his hand pulled away, making you want to chase after him. “Y-yeah…I’m not worn out. Hell, after your training it’s hard to ever get worn out these days…captain.” You teased softly, not knowing where the confidence came from. A smile actually tugged at his lips, hand reaching for the door handle and pushing it open. “I’ll remember that, sugar.” For some reason, you felt as if you had just dug your own grave.

[shaisuki]

— A LESSON TO LEARN

ENTRY #005 OF SHAISUKI'S KINKTOBER 2023

FT. KISHIBE + EXHIBITIONISM

— exhibitionism is the term most commonly used for the action of being nude and/or engaged in a sexual act for others to witness visually.

• pairing: kishibe x chubby reader

• content warnings: public sex (alleyway), reader is in her twenties, kishibe in his fifties, spanking, calling of whore, kishibe calls reader, kiddo.

you have a lot to learn considering you're new in the public safety division and whose much better to learn from is the man who had years of experience, the strongest devil hunter — kishibe.

kishibe really lives out to his name being called the strongest in the division and to your expectations of him when you first entered the doorways of the public safety commission — you knew you were there for the thrill and the with the astronomical salary paid for people with your line of work.

and of course, to meet kishibe.

despite the adrenaline you were chasing for — death and fun are in the same page of your vocabulary — you need to at least toughen up in this line of work the high you were looking for and you were given the opportunity to be trained by no other than kishibe. thanks to ms. makima for her connections.

it didn't matter how old he was to you. the older someone is, the more experienced they have and he was perfect to you.

“the circumstances isn't what i expected coming from someone like you.” he says gruffly. taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke out. his eyes narrowing and yet he remained emotionless.“hunting devils isn't for people like you who seeks it for fun. this ain't a playground for you to play, kiddo.” pulling the silver flask from his coat and taking a swig from it.

you were annoyed by it. you knew you were young and being young and knowing the future that waited for you. it seems right to enjoy it.

seeing you were affected by what he was saying with your brows scrunch, the little mean pout and the glare you were sending to him. kishibe knew you were stubborn. youngsters this days.

“perhaps you could find something that will satisfy you.”

it was a low for someone like him to be fucking someone in a dark alleyway. his coat abandoned in his feet, pants pooling in his waist and the few buttons of his shirt are undone while his large cock is buried deep inside your sopping cunt.

you were the someone he is currently fucking in a dark alleyway with bystanders passing by with, unaware of you two both but with your filthy moans echoing — it wouldn't be too long for someone to notice you both.

“if i've known this also the fun you wanted — i should have fucked you sooner.” he groans behind your ears. his breath ragged while he drills his cock to your fat pussy. the back of your knee hooked in his arm while you moaned out his name.

kishibe didn't expected that at his age and his experiences in women — he would be still disciplining a brat like you. a few decades younger than him.

“told you — 'm not a kid, kishibe — mmph” you moaned out as you taunt him. if he would treat you like a kid then better be a brat for him. you giggled looking above him with his eyes neutral and his face monotonous but it looks like he was cracking from his facade.

his eyebrows raising while he examines you. your skirt bunched up to your waist. your blouse discarded along with his coat. showing the the side of your head pressed to the cold wall while you look to him like you were challenging him and you were getting too cocky for his taste.

“you're not a kid? hm?” he hums, questioning you with a confirmation. his hips snapping to yours and you let out a squeal from the sudden pace of his pounding to you. “then you wouldn't mind being shown like a whore to this people.” he says. spreading you wider and with your chunky leg hook in his arm, he positioned it to the direction where unsuspecting people passing by in the alleyway. if there's a unknown soul who turn his head to the direction. they can your fat cunt on display with his cock sliding in and out of your hole.

the thought of being seen by someone while getting your hole used sends shocks of shiver running down to your spine and to your pussy. the thought of it got you clenching around him and kishibe groans.

“you like that? you like someone watching you while you're getting impaled by an old cock, huh?” you gushed more from his filthy words. your slick dripping out as it runs down to his length.

“yes! i love it very much! please!” you cried out. your nerves tingling from how he was hard from he was fucking you. the sound of skin slapping and your cunt squelching from his length turns you on more and you didn't want it to end. finding the thrill of being fucked in a public place by your senior.

“more — please! fuck me harder!” moving your own hips to match his speed. your hand reaching out for his head and pulling it close for you to kiss him. turning your head to the side to meet his face and then his lips capturing your own. turning it on a more heated kiss. both of your tongues clashing in the insides of your mouth. “mmmm” his fingers coming to rub your swollen clit while his other hand gripping the rolls of your stomach. finding the leverage to continue his barrage of thrusts to your warm hole.

holding his head, you can feel the stitches in his cheek. rubbing into your face and that adds to the appeal of him. the sensation being too much for you and it wouldn't be too long before you can cum. your fingers pinching and pulling your nipple.

you didn't care about the noises coming from you. you weren't afraid of being someone with your body full on display as long you were under his touch.

your plush body quivers when the tip of his cock — hits the soft spot inside you making your juices drip down. “hit me there! hit me there again!” and kishibe complies to your wishes. angling his hips to a different position to hit that special spot inside you. raising your leg a little higher.

his cock throbs more than ever the more he buries himself deep inside you. the moment he took you under his wing — he knew he fucked up. you unknowingly bewitched him and it was his fault. you were deranged from the moment you joined his division. too fucked up and too crazy to ever fear death and he realizes him fucking you in this place will never satisfy your greed.

with a harsh bounce as you lower yourself to him. his balls slapping to your pussy. your warm walls came convulsing around him. making sure you were going to milk him dry and that triggers his own high. groaning and muttering a curse as he bit the crook of your neck while you milked him for all his worth.

his hot, white, sticky cum warming and painting your insides. generous amount of his cum seeping deep inside your walls that it creates a creamy, white ring at the side of his cock while still being inside you.

“you filthy whore.” he rasped out and it made you giggle. “yes. i'm your filthy whore.” looking at him with a daze look and he couldn't deny you still look innocent despite just being fucked by him.

turning around to face him and you hisses from the sensitivity. his cock still buried inside you. “i will be always your whore — kishibe.” kissing the tip of his nose.

“sure you are.” he muttered. pulling his length out from you. his cum running down to your creamy thighs. after fixing himself up. he grabbed his coat along with your blouse. assisting you dressing up and turning around with his back facing you. after making sure you were decent you followed him.

a huge smile etched from your face and kishibe takes a swig of the liquid in his flask. hearing you follow him and kishibe damn sure, he will never take someone as crazy like you under his wing again.

it was a lesson to learn for a man like him.

[daisynik7]

if you're still taking requests, i have a severe need for kishibe being a slutty old boyfriend to reader, doing unspeakably filthy things while calling reader "kid, princess" and all manner of cutesy pet names

Pairing: Kishibe x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

cw: age gap (reader is in her 20s, Kishibe is late 40s/early 50s), established relationship, sex toy use, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl, doggy style), vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, face-riding, sex without a condom, creampie, cum-eating, multiple orgasms, pet names. 

Word Count: ~1.6k

Author’s Note: Hi mephisto! Thank you for the Kishibe request, was waiting for another to come in! Hope you like this one, been wanting to write a piece with a sex toy and thought this would be fitting for it! Let me know what you think. :) 

You’ve never dated an older man before. Well, not this old. But the thing about Kishibe is that the two of you mesh so well, the age gap never seems that drastic. Your relationship is still relatively fresh; six months, if you count the first few weeks of hooking up, no strings attached. Eventually, you both agreed to give it a real shot, seeing each other exclusively. There are, however, a few moments where your differences show, and the two of you have the opportunity to learn from each other.

Kishibe comes over to your apartment to spend the night after a delicious dinner at your favorite restaurant. This is usually how your dates go: a lovely meal at a fancy establishment, a bit of wine is consumed, then sex at either his place or yours. It’s a tried-and-true formula that never fails to satisfy. Though, tonight, you decide to spice it up just a little. Show the old man a trick or two up your sleeve. 

In your bed, both of you already naked and kissing, you reach behind you towards your drawer, blindly feeling for one of your sex toys. He pulls away to look at you, glancing at your hand. “What are you doing?” he asks, slightly confused.

You smirk, making sure it’s the right toy in your grasp: a small, pink suction vibrator, one you just purchased specifically with him in mind. Something you’re sure the old man hasn’t used in the bedroom before. You wiggle it your hand. “I want to show you something.”

He raises a brow at you, curious. “Go on.”

You splay your thighs, displaying your pussy for him. He licks his lips, face drifting closer to your arousal until you stop him, palm pressed to his forehead. “I want you to watch me play with myself first.”

The small bump in his throat bobs, swallowing hard at your suggestion. His cock is stiff against his abdomen, clearly turned on by this idea. Still, he argues. “Don’t you want me to eat out that pretty pussy instead?”

You click your tongue disapprovingly at him, shaking your head. “Looks like you’ve got a lot to learn, old man.”

He chuckles at this, leaning back to kneel in front of you, reading for whatever you have in store for him. “Alright. Show me what you got, kid.” 

While sex with Kishibe has been nothing short of fantastic, there’s always room to spice it up, especially when it comes to foreplay. Your boyfriend has admitted to you before that he’s not well-versed when it comes to sex toys. He prefers a more old-fashioned approach, only because that’s what he’s used to. But he’s never been opposed to it either, being more than willing to try. Again at the drawer, you retrieve a bottle of lube, squirting a small drop onto your fingers, rubbing it around your bud. He watches carefully, intending to gain something from this little lesson you’re giving him. 

Properly lubricated, you press on the button, the toy vibrating loudly in your hand. There’s a small grin on his face as you position the suction on your clit, sealing it against your skin. It doesn’t take long for you to falter from the sensation, slick already leaking from your throbbing pussy. He’s practically salivating watching you, spit gathering on his tongue, desperate to taste you, to dip his fingers in your glistening cunt. He wraps his fist around his hard cock, stroking himself to the sight of you. “Come on my fingers, princess. Please.”

You click once on the button, increasing the intensity a level, nodding at him. He slips his middle and ring finger inside you, curling at the tips to stimulate your sweet spot. You throw you head back, indulging in the sensation of his digits pumping in and out of you while the toy remains latched to your clit, sucking until it’s swollen. He’s enjoying it a little too much, seeing you swell around his fingers, coated in your sticky mess. His other hand continues to work his cock, precum oozing at the tip, ready to bust any second. Your old, slutty boyfriend is always quick to come, which might be a dealbreaker for some. But what he lacks in patience, he makes up for in stamina. The old geezer nuts fast, but is hard again almost instantly, ready for round two, three, even four, lasting longer each time. 

He strokes himself, spurting his hot load onto the sheets, grunting. You come soon after, his fingers squelching deep inside you, the vibrator still buzzing. His eyes widen, watching you squirt all over his hand. “Would you look at that? Fuck, that’s sexy. You’re a nasty little thing, aren’t you?” He pulls out, a shiny string still attached as he slides his fingers into his mouth, sucking off your slick. 

“Want your cock now,” you tell him, setting the toy aside, rubbing your middle finger on your slippery bud. 

“How do you want me, angel?” He crawls towards you to kiss you, nipping at your bottom lip. “I’ll give it to you however you want.”

Out of breath from excitement, you huff, “Want to ride you.”

He smiles, pleased to see how fucked out you already are for him. He lays back against the pillows, craning his neck, beckoning you to his lap. “Yeah? Go ahead. Ride this cock. Show this old man how it’s done.”

You straddle him, rubbing your wet pussy along his shaft before you slide it in completely. Without wasting a second, you thrust your ass back and forth onto him, fucking yourself on his hard cock. He rests his hands behind his head, watching your risqué performance, tits bouncing along with your hips, expression hazy with lust, drool leaking from the corners of your lips. Your hands squeeze around your breasts, pinching the peaked nipples between your fingers. He never gets tired of seeing this side of you, unraveling above him. Because of him. 

An idea pops in his head. He stretches is arm out, grabbing for the vibrator at his side. He turns it on, clicking it twice for a more intense setting. It buzzes in his hand as he reaches towards you, placing the suction at your clit. You moan, overstimulated from earlier, spasming from the contact. At your reaction, he presses the vibrator even harder against you, relishing the way you twitch from the sensation. “Fuck, that’s it, isn’t it, sweetheart? That’s the spot, huh? Squeezing me so fucking tight.”

“Yes, right there! Oh fuck!” you cry out, bouncing harder on his lap. Soon, you’re coming once more, sweat beading on your forehead, limbs wobbly, aching from arousal. He tosses the vibrator aside, not bothering to turn it off, immediately lifting you from off his cock and up towards his head. “Ride my face, kitten. Don’t you dare hold back.”

Too fucked out to argue, you follow his orders, spreading your legs over him, gripping the headboard. He pulls you down to him, eating you out sloppily while you straddle his face, swiping his tongue side to side. Smothering himself in your juices, mouth moving relentlessly on you. He doesn’t stop when you thrash above him, overly sensitive with him latched around your swollen clit, desperate to drown in your pussy. He lifts you off to smatter a thick glob of spit on your bud, smearing it with his tongue. “This old man can still teach you something, huh?” He peers up at you, smirking, flicking his tongue against you. 

You meet his gaze, nodding erratically, too dumb to answer in a coherent sentence, rocking your hips against him. “That’s it, angel. Squirt on my face,” he muffles, sliding his thumb along your slit, slipping it in. He surrounds your clit, sucking hard, squeezing it between his puckered lips. You come for him, whining as he slurps at your sopping cunt. He wriggles out from underneath you, giving you a light smack on your ass, chin and nose shiny with your slick. “Bend over for me.”

You position yourself on all fours, eager to have his cock back inside you. He glides in easily, your entrance drenched in his spit and your cum. He fucks you hard, hips slamming deliciously against your ass cheeks, the sounds of wet skin slapping and your wanton moans filling the room. You’re completely unhinged for him, needy for another orgasm despite your body being spent. 

“That’s it, baby girl,” he coos, pressing his hips flush to your ass as you convulse around him, pushed passed the edge. He hooks his fingers into your mouth, swiping it over your tongue before caressing your clit. “Come all over my cock. Get it fucking creamy.”

“Oh fuck,” you whine, salivating onto the pillow, climaxing for the third time tonight. Or is it the fourth? At this point, you can’t even keep count. He orgasms with you, shooting his seed deep into your womb, stuffing you full. He pulls out slowly, watching as the cum dribbles out of your slit, only to gather it with his thumb to finger it back in. You let him play with you for a couple more minutes, too exhausted to berate him for being a nasty old perv, like you usually would. In all honestly, you love how filthy he is, especially with you. 

When he’s done, he lays beside you, wrapping you in his arms. You curl closer to him, enjoying the way his hands roam up and down the curves of your body, exploring every crevice until it’s ingrained in his brain. The warmth that emits from him surrounds you in a cozy embrace, making you feel protected and safe in his hold.

He nestles his face into your neck, now dewy with perspiration from the night’s activities. “Not so bad for an old man, right?”

Still in a daze, you pat his hand affectionately, grinning. “Good. Very, very good.”

Satisfied with your respond, he gives you smooch on the cheek, hugging you tighter. “That’s my girl.”