#csm kishibe x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

uvobreakmylegs · 1 month ago

Text

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.

#reader insert #yandere x reader #yandere #kishibe #csm kishibe #yandere kishibe #kishibe x reader #kishibe smut #yandere chainsaw man #chainsaw man kishibe

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bayaaranja · 7 months ago

Text

Y'all have no idea how much I love fanfics like these 😿

𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍: 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐔𝐒 || 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐄

Creatures of nightmares that crawl from nothing to land he's dealt with for so long, he himself bounded to those, unthinkable abilities he wields; he never questioned reality. But there's an impenetrable sense of high he's in as he fixes in your softness, it doesn't feel real. It's peaceful, he thinks that is what dreaming is.

Kishibe finds his demise not to be of devils, fiends, wars—not even of death.

images used: X | X

April 2023 - April and June 2024. about fucking time. to the ones that encouraged me to start writing for csm, i'm truly so sorry for the long delay. when i started this piece for him, i was focused and suddenly i wasn't and a lot kept happening and i didn't want to touch this until i was on it entirely, i wanted this to be perfect, so i shelved it. and i hope the waiting does the justice. the lack of works for this anime with us fat readers is what started this all and you encouraged me, so thank you for that🙇🏽‍♀️🙏🏼. writing the end of this was so difficult, i'm so sorry again this kept delaying.

if you've read the manga or watched the show, you may have noticed or not—and that i've only realized i didn't address reader's contract with devils in the previous works in this series and in this one, the case is still the same 😁 because, honestly, i just forgot about it. apologies for that

nearing 8k words. all my y/n are afab, fat and of color. Reader is in 50's. with two children. a ten and four years old. divorced. ex-devil hunter. kishibe hums a lot here because he does that a lot. he barely talks as well, that's how i headcanon him, i just can't see him saying too many things that wouldn't be from someone like him🙁 slight slowburn. a tiniest tinge of crack. one thing about me in my works is i will always inject my pride in my characters! masturbation. light sparring. spit play? pussy eating. fucking.

I'll be disappearing for a while for another work, this drained me. enjoy!!! as always, thoughts are more than welcome!! thank you💌

On routine, that's how Kishibe's life was, all the same everyday. Even in the unusual situations with his job, all the same as well; natural. He's not sick of it, no. He's just....bored. Sure, he gets laid most of the time, but that, too, was routine. Funny thing to say for an old man like him, who has nothing going on in his life, on purpose, chooses to be.

Though just to say the least, he's quite getting sick of the boredom. But he doesn't do anything about it, there was nothing to come across his mind. So instead, his fate did it for him.

Delivering him something new, and that something was someone.

Someone moving into the building where he lives, in the top floor he's in, no less. In a building where it looks so lonely because it was a bit far away from the city and only a few buildings were surrounded by the place. It's literally lonely, one could say, because there are only three tenants in it and he's already included among them--and said three tenants don't know each other, let alone have crossed paths before. He preferred it that way.

For probably enough time that one could bear until they went mad, it was like that.

Until it was broken off by you.

And what's new is that you're there standing in the elevator with enough bags that one could carry sitting on the floor.

You know each other. He knows you. Only a few years younger late when you got in the division from him. Never worked with you but still knew of each other. One of the reasons is because you're known in the division, respected rather. A few of the primes, same like him. But that is until you switched to working in the office rather out in the field, still you were esteemed. That was all he knew. He never paid much attention to trivial things anyway; not unless it was something he should be concerned about.

"Kishibe?" You voiced, eyebrows furrowed.

"L/N." He replied, voice ever nonchalant.

As you stepped out of the elevator, he took a few of your bags from the floor as you did and you didn't say anything to it. No such thing as shyness or awkwardness between two grown people like you, let alone that you know of each other.

"So you're the one living here?" You asked, both of you walking in the long hallway.

"And you're moving."

"Guess we weren't both told then."

"That's the rule anyway."

Confidentiality was the top rule of the apartment, no introductions, not even background checks or anything. Closed off and expensive. That piques his interest, just a little though.

Though what you both find odd—even a little amusing is how you didn't even get to see each other when the two of you figure that of the day you checked out the place. And only now. What coincidence, you supposed.

Of you seeing how he was the only one living on the floor, you spoke your thoughts. "...And I suppose you being the only one here on this floor is ruined by me." You chuckled a little.

"Doesn't seem so bad." He answered just as easily and simply. Any other time back then, he wouldn't have liked this, it would have made his eyes sharp and lips fell even lower....but today, he's not gonna complain.

You nod, a small curve of your lips turning up. "...That's good to know," you say and not a second later, you arrived at your door. "....Well, thank you."

Kishibe laid the bags inside on the floor just as you opened the door, "Hmm," he just voiced before going his way.

This didn't deter you or anything, seeming to know that he's always been that.....rather reserved, you could say....anyone will, actually.

And as you went on to fix your things up, you thought of the man. That you were surprised to see him, much more that he lives here. You weren't bothered by it...just surprised—rather curious to what comes next.

This was him after all, the prime of the primes. The so reserved man, so as you now find new (the place he lives at could say a lot already) but suppose that's normal for his age, close to your age rather and especially in the kind of work you both have, let alone his.

"Shouldn't this be interesting?" You say to yourself just as you folded the last bag to its place.

Something new is what you came here for anyway,

As night has come, you made dinner not only for yourself but as well.....well, Kishibe. You'll be living closely for such a time and it's always right to give something for your neighbour. Though at the back of your mind, you can't help but think, does he even cook? eat for himself properly? It encouraged you more to give him something. Be it as a nature of a mother, and who was once a wife, you believe.

So late of the night when the time has come that the devil hunters usually go home from work, specifically in his rank—a few minutes after that said time, you went out from your apartment to head over his. Walking down the hallway, holding the small and still heated ceramic pot. As you reached the door, you knocked, successfully.

Seconds later, the door opened to show the man, looking a bit tired more than usual, just out from his coat but still in his attire, white shirt messily opened and hair ragged.

He has always been quite handsome, hasn't he?

"I'm sorry if I disturbed but I made you something as a gift of me moving in, I suppose." You spoke, putting up the pot slightly and he eyes it down.

He only said nothing but took the casserole from your hands and just hummed, walking back in, leaving the door open for you to just stand there, contemplating to leave as you figured the man was much more....him than he was.

Then you heard him speak, his usual voice that was gruffly. "Beer?" Coming from the kitchen.

You almost chuckled in surprise, thinking for a second he'd just leave without saying anything and now he offers you beer. Daring to take that as an invitation, you went in and closed the door. "I'm fine, thank you." You answer as you follow where he was. You see him took out a glass pitcher from the fridge and was holding a glass in his other hand, pouring the water in it as he put it on the table just beside the bottled and unopened beer.

Kishibe was a bit surprised, if he admits so. He actually thought you would have gone along just like everyone does.....just as he does normally. But here you are now, just at his door earlier, offering him a gift you made for him. So yes, he was surprised.

Opening the glass bottled beer, he took a light sip from it before opening the casserole that stood out on the table...well it was empty anyway. It was pasta, something he haven't had in a while, and something he'd devour in a while as he was damn hungry and haven't had dinner yet.

.....He was liking this new thing already.

The savoury scent immediately flourishes in the air, putting off the smell of musk and alcohol of the place. Kishibe didn't mind, though he just went to the wide terrace that lets the wind come in strongly, you follow shortly and he leans on the railings, a cigarette already in his mouth.

You placed yourself a bit far across from where he was leaning your waist back on the railings, the sound of night faint in the background. "How long have you been living here?" You asked.

The man let out the smoke before answering, still looking ahead, "Don't exactly count it,"

You nod, looking at him for a second as you lightly chuckled, uttering a small, "Of course."

Kishibe then gave you a side glance, looking at the view again. "Why'd you choose this?"

"I wanted to be away from the city but not so far that it'll be inconvenient for me and my children, and there this place was."

This made his eyebrows furrow but he wasn't looking at you, though you saw that. "They're separated from me as I'm divorced from my ex-husband....let him gain custody of them." You spoke but just stopped there, not wanting to say too much.

He looks at you this time, not tearing it away. "Is that why you switched to the office?"

Trivial things....trivial things he doesn't get involved with, nor even asked questions about.....but maybe this one won't change a thing and normal he thought it was to be curious at the very moment.

"Yes," That's what you only answer, he doesn't ask more and just looked away from you. Only smoke lingers in the air, no sense of any discomfort but you're both just there.

Until you spoke again, "I'll be off now, good night." You bid as you crossed your arms over your robes and stood up straight before walking. You only hear him hum as you did.

It was the beginning of a new thing to become a routine.....one that he wouldn't be sick of.

As it was the same for you. Just after finally settling down, your new abode made, you began to get more comfortable in the place. That meant with your neighbour. Well, maybe not so much but just enough to give him what you cook when you have time to make such meals at night. Just enough to let yourself in his place as every time you brought him something. Always in the terrace, the man will always smoke and drink his beer or just from his flask, and you'd just be there, not talking of anything but work, at least after a few nights then you both began speaking of said work, all the ordeals you go through...but still words were only kept short and few.....and just only that.

Stacked papers in your hands piled up on your arms as you're in the elevator, just walking out of it when it reaches your floor. Just as you're halfway in the hallway, Kishibe walks out of his place and he stops when he sees you, looks at his watch then back to you, not even fazed with the countless papers you have.

This makes you chuckle, slowing down. "Yes, my office was quite busy this afternoon because of the new recruits and what happened in the city." You spoke, Kishibe barely tuts his head, knowing how paperworks after hunting, its casualties and much more that comes with it—can be a bitch.

Figuring that with how late it is and the fact the man has been getting his dinner from what you've been giving him lately—you asked simply. "Are you getting dinner?"

That and maybe getting laid, he's had a damn day after that shit happened in the city. But maybe not tonight after all.

Kishibe took some of the papers and folders from you and began to walk towards your door. "What are you making?"

Your lips curved slightly, "Harako Meshi, been a while since I've had it and my friend gave me sake, so I figured."

Kishibe doesn't think there's been a second for him to think that he hasn't liked it every time you bothered him ever since you showed up. Yeah, he can't see that he'll be getting sick of this thing soon.

There he smokes on your balcony just as he laid the papers and folders on the table in the living room. And you're already in the kitchen just after you changed into a more comfortable clothes....a clear view of you as you work.

Your space was much more different from his ( Untouched and just left how it was. Dull. ) you damn turned the place upside down, one wouldn't think this one room was inside a soulless building. It reeks of home.

Home. He's unfamiliar with that since he was young and until now, let alone of the very word.

Kishibe sought to think how someone like you could still be in this kind of life. And he thought he's thinking enough, so he turned to the view and took a long drag.

You weren't oblivious to his stare, it doesn't bother you. Clear was how you hear his unspoken thoughts, it doesn't bother you as well. Anyone would think the same.

As you continue to work in the kitchen, you thought....how long it must have been for him since he's been in a home.....to feed well. A part of you smiles in daring to hope to give him a taste of it...no matter how...cruel it was if one were to see it in the other way. Give the satiated man he knows he doesn't...wouldn't...couldn't have.

Your conscience lies in just doing something nice for him.

You begin to prepare the table and Kishibe walks in, unhesitantly bringing some of the things you made on the table and the sake, of course. Now there you both are sitting across from each other and started to eat.

"I've heard that you'll be training the two recruits." You spoke.

Kishibe nods as he continues to eat-he really was damn glad he didn't go out. "Two fiends, nothing I can't handle."

"I'm sure." You spoke mindlessly....then you speak again. "She's planning something, isn't she?"

"She's always planning something."

That much was unfortunately and thankfully known. "Teach the boy well."

"I'll give him hell."

"You better."

You two didn't even miss a beat.

Kishibe's lips almost quirked as he drank. It was...quite...good to know that there lies an agreement between the dangerous notion. Nothing but truth in your voice as you speak every time....expectedly rare in the life of you both live.

"You stayed even if the cause of your separation is because of it." He spoke, no tone of anything but just his own voice.

Again, you were quite surprised as he said that, clearly not expecting him to take any interest, let alone even a bit of curiosity from him. But you didn't show it, nor were you offended by what he asked.

"Because this way, I can still protect them without risking my life so much before and not worry them anymore."

Of course.

"You and Quanxi were a loss to both the divisions." He'll give you that much.

And you were proud for that one. "We're all lucky that they let me switch without anything in return and that you remained to shoulder all the shit."

He couldn't agree more.

Now you both are done eating, with you fixing up the table and Kishibe on your balcony once again smoking—before you join him, nothing but the distant sounds of the city.

"Hayakawa?" You asked.

"Close."

"Have you warned Himeno?"

"He's set straight to it. Screws all lose."

You took a sharp breath from your nose as you looked up at the sky. "Kind boy," you spoke mindlessly.

Kishibe just hums as he let out his smoke. Silence came in and it was welcomed..a few more while, his cigarette ran dry....and there he bids. "Good night," and you just stood there still ahead to the view and him not sparing a glance as he spoke.

Normal night, you supposed.

Work was work. Walking in the corridors in the division, headed to your office...Kishibe was there walking in your opposite direction. As you both continue to walk, no glances were made but kept straight. A few times in that and left in the back of your minds.

And...now...he walks in the elevator of the apartment just as you did earlier seconds ago.

"You making something?" he asks as the elevator closes. It seems he likes your cooking more than you thought.

You hum, nodding. "Vegetable curry."

Kishibe raises his brow, "At night?"

You chuckle a little, "It seems so."

He just hums.

As you now cook in your kitchen, the door is left opened for the man who is still yet to come.

Then, what an odd mixture of the night was; aroma of the dish, cigarette and alcohol. It was welcomed nonetheless.

For some fucking reason...Kishibe hasn't had sex for a while...well...ever since you moved in, that is. And he's a simple man but dumb...he knows the reason why; you. Some fucking reason, huh.

Blind. The notion coming as unexpected...maybe...but is it really unexpected...really?

After all, what is to be expected when two grown people share the same floor together, what is to be expected when each night they share dinner together...what is to be expected when those two persons have some needs and those needs untouched?

Yeah, you. You've been...having thoughts about the man, you weren't bothered by it...if anything, again, you deemed it normal...and you aren't denying it as well. The man is fucking appealing. You know you can't blame yourself for it and you don't. But of course, that doesn't mean you'd act upon it. You are in need, needy, sure...maybe even aching but you have your....yes—your pride.

Oh, you're well aware that there lingers something in the air, it's palpable but still subtle...however hidden, it's there and you feel it. You both do.

But what does Kishibe do? Nothing. Went with his day and night like his mind hasn't thought of running his cock through a certain fucking someone. He's not exactly sure of what's keeping him from doing the exact thing.

But what's not keeping himself from doing is letting his hand go down on him, his free hand loosening his tie as he sits back on his couch lazily. Hardened length straining so tight against his boxers and black slacks.

"Hmghm..." He groans. That sinful sound...that rumbles through his chest so good even with his lips just closed. Kishibe took his already lit cigarette from the ashtray on his table, taking a long drag as he continues to palm himself. His fingers firmly pressing on his clothed cock.

He let out the smoke from his mouth. Pent up heat in him almost leaving along with the smoke, staring to nothing at the ceiling, his eyes clearly seeing your tempting figure. Engraved you were in his mind, he can thank himself for always letting his eyes linger on you, taking you all in when he stands on your balcony as you cook in your kitchen. Not turning his gaze away anymore ever since his...needs gotten the best of him and satisfied his eyes.

With one hand, he unhooked his belt and took seconds to free his aching cock, standing proud and leaking already. Kishibe closed his eyes, his head still laid back on the couch, exhaling deeply once his fingers wrapped on his base...allowing whatever was enabling him to feel it as your own fingers, it slides down so slowly, the closed palm confining his cock so warm and good, what he has been depriving of.

Your hands....your hands that moves fluidly when you handle your cooking, his mind flashing him visions that your hands are on his cock whenever he's there in your balcony.

Kishibe takes another long drag as he continues to suffocate his cock, still so slow, up and down, a strained groan this time as he slowly let out the smoke, eyes still closed. Feeling your hand go a bit fast now. Sweat and pre coating his length and your plush skin, it makes his chest start to rise and fall now. Droplets of sweat gathering on his skin and it drips down from his neck to his chest and down to his abdomen.

A rhythm being found. Still not that fast but enough...so enough to build fire in him as you circle your closed palm on him up and down, all while you run your thumb on his tip every time.

.....The fuck you do to him...penting him up just by watching you cook there...a humanly ritual...a domestic act...one he was barely familiar of and he's getting all hot about it. The cigarette he takes is blameless for it, but what he's familiar of humanly ritual...is need.

And what he needs is release.

Kishibe's throat strains as he hums….an animalistic growl as the ministrations on his cock continues. The pace still the same but filling in his peak slowly, and he likes it that way. Just as how the alcohol he drinks burn slowly in him. He savours it each and every time, just like right now, Kishibe feels you take your sweet time fisting him hard and steady. His tip continuously leaking, leaking more each time the pads of your fingers would go over his tip and press on it.

He held his cigarette with two fingers as that same hand reached out to get his glass on the table. Taking a drink of his whiskey as your hand never stops on him. Fucking hell...that flaring smoke of his cigarette, the alcohol, the burning waves from his straining cock, it engulfs him, enough...more than enough to send any being into euphoria. Deep and long groans rumbles from him as he feels it all, his throat and all the way down, burns. Clenching him.

However he was drowning in fire already, however enough it was...he wants more...he wants more than your hand. So what he does is grab the crown of your head and make you take his cock into your mouth, fingers gripping your hair to guide you in. Lips sliding against his thick and long length, tongue flat above him, the walls of your mouth and the end of your throat. "Fuck." Kishibe growls, the glass got put down on the table too hard that it might have cracked, his cigarette almost falling from his fingers.

Gurgled sounds vibrates through him and he hears it, he hears you. His grip on your hair strong as ever so as to keep the pace going, fast and hard, he assaults your mouth, his drips spilling to your tongue, down to your throat. His peak long gone from burning tantalizingly slow and turned to wildfire, overflowing, his hips now twitching, rising to make the pressure he gets in your mouth stay. Kishibe feels your breath going away as he doesn't let you breathe but just continues to hold your hair so tight, still making you take him. He can't lose his end...so whatever what was left in him is now gone as he moves his hips to fuck your mouth better. Slowly he does while he makes yours only faster and harder if it's still possible.

"Mhmgr fuck..." His growling sounds never stops as it continues, his hips slapping to you, abusing your mouth with his cock again and again. It didn't take much longer for him to see his release; all of him strongly clenched as his cock stilled in you, reaching the end of your throat, he feels it go down while his cum flows in you. The cigarette on his fingers now being crushed in his hand as he closed his fist so tight, the burning pain on his skin was nothing as he stays in his high, cock flinching in you while his lower body continues to slowly move against you to feel it all.

"Mgrhm…” It's what echoed in his walls continuously, his chest slowly comes down from its rising and falling, shirt soaked with sweat, hair falling with droplets of it as well.

"Kishibe."

He hears you call out to him from your kitchen. Dead eyes, he looks to you. "I think you wasted your cigarette." You nod to his cigarette on his hand...and as he now noticed, realized—it was crushed by his strongly closed fist, burning his skin once more. Kishibe opened his hand, showing his long before scarred flesh now freshly tainted...bits of its remains falling...because he was thinking of having your hand on his cock and fucking your mouth last night when he was only doing it by himself.

His thoughts long left to ashes the moment he stood in your balcony once again this night.

He needs to end this. He will have you soon.

Anticipation fills you. You know one way or another something will happen, you don't know when but you know it's hanging on by a thread...it has your heart racing...and your cunt beating.

The air of the night was fucking thick as you eat together.

And it's getting thicker with each passing second as the morning comes. It had to be fucking Saturday, where it's both your day off. But thankfully...as fucked up as it's sounds, you'd be luckily distracted as your two children will come over in the afternoon. And hopefully, he won't be in his place or anything to not cross paths with him today. The last thing you want right now is to see him at the moment...some part of you knows that if you do—it would be not too different from your thoughts.

But even that, of course...us creatures are nothing to the will of time; just another words to say it ended how one would normally expect. Bumping into each other...well, not exactly that, maybe worse than it. With him walking into your place with your two children walking in front of him.

The moment you heard a heavy footsteps along with a light and rapid ones, your eyebrows furrowed as you took a few steps aside to see who it was and you almost dropped the tray of freshly baked cookies from your hands as your eyes met his.

It took you not even a second to figure out the reason what's happening right now; you let your children just play around and inevitably went out of your place to go and play around on the floor. Either they knocked on his door or ran into him—either way, you knew your children likes to be friendly...and that says a lot, given how only a few children would approach a man like Kishibe.

You should have known better.

Though what could you have done to avoid it from happening, anyways. Finding your composure inside of you. "Tell me they just ran into you and didn't knock on your door." You spoke, laughing lightly as you went back to work.

"They knocked," Kishibe answers simply, as always.

"Yes, of course." You nod as a little laugh escapes you once more. Setting the cookies on the cooling rack. The sounds of your children in the background as Kishibe now stood in your kitchen, leaning the back of his waist on the counter, his eyes on you.

You were glowing...he hasn't noticed that before. He's sure he hasn't heard you laugh that much as well, probably normally because of your children...something is gotta be wrong with him...no, that's just his...desires that's making him notice.

You could strangle yourself right now, maybe even do something worse, because what the fuck is his problem staring at you while you're trying your best to not even so much show an ounce of waver in your composure and you know he knows what he's doing. What the fuck is he even gonna do here?

...Yeah, your mind was all over the place and that has rarely happened before, almost never. Yet you can't find the urge...the guts to ask him why he's staying right now this time.

Instead, you fucking ask him if he wants coffee, he just nods as he took one of your cookies.

Maybe...he stayed for your cookies

You almost bash your head on the counter as the thought occurred.

The kettle made its noise and you made your coffees. "You gonna have them over for dinner?" He asked.

"Mmnn, yes," you answer. But you hesitate to ask if he'll join.

"What are you making?" he asks once more. Your lips quirked as your mouth is now close to your cup. Well, you didn't have to worry about that after all.

"Pasta. It's their favourite." You spoke. And Kishibe remembers the night you gave him that dish. He still has the taste at the end of his tongue when he lets you in his door, he cannot wait to taste it again.

Which he does as the night falls, with your children across from both of you as your besides each other this time. The laughter of you and your children...it's nice. Pasta and among other things he can barely remember the names of, nonetheless he eats so well. Lots of it tastes unfamiliar and yet it's so welcoming...he wants more of it.

Kishibe's mind is stirring, the smoke is fogging his mind, so as he believes....or something must be in your food—he's really losing it.

And through his silence with only little of his words, through his eyes with your subtle glances besides him; you see through him. It almost worries you...you really gave him a taste of it. Where it goes from here next, you don't know but possibilities, of course, runs in your mind...more possibilities.

And it fueled even more when you caught a glimpse of his eyes when you got embraced and kissed by your ex-husband as he arrived to pick up your children...and Kishibe met your gaze as your former lover did.

The mere act alone...nothing needed to be said more.

The night hangs quiet when your children goes with their father, with Kishibe still there with you. If it was possible, the beating of your heart could echo loudly in your place as you fix up the table, with him following you to do the same, it's the first time he helped you with it....it's enough to say what it could possibly mean.

The glasses in your hand clang against one another as your said hand trembles a little to lay it down in the sink, while he walks close to you to put the plates in it as well. You're both so close to each other. He towers over you, he's just that damn tall. Kishibe only stands there as you did, his eyes looming above and behind you, his breathing turning deep that it was now heard in the deafening silence.

He can have you right there and then. Be relieved of his insanity.

Yet instead he speaks, "How long has it been since you sparred?"

Your mouth has already exhaled a light laugh before you could stop yourself. "It has...been quite some time."

In his mind, what he's to do could compensate for what he doesn't yet—"Why? You gonna run my memory?"

Before you know it, you're trapped by the counter and him, the edge of a knife on your throat, your hand on his wrist firmly—your eyes dead on him in sheer stun, laced with thin provocation. Seeing his gaze doesn't change at all; it was more maddening. "You doubted me." You at last utter in a calculating disbelief, your fingers tightening around his grip.

Kishibe lives by your nerves resonating through him, they're loud and strong because of him. It feeds him. "I wondered." He spoke, still having the blade directly on you.

You don't feel anything from him but now that the proximity grants you to fully look him in the eyes, you can finally see he's burning.

The evidence is more worrying than the weapon dying for your throat.

"That's wounding." You breathe.

"Everything is."

You only scoff at his reply, before your other free hand swiftly went to get another knife of his from one of his pocket and aimed it for the side of his head—only for him to stop it by his hand that once trapped you, his hold just effortlessly firm, barely a strength to keep you from driving the blade in his brain.

Even when you never worked together, your reputation has never doubted you and that he can see now right in front of him.

"Proof enough?" You ask.

Not enough of you.

He only huffed a short hum. Just like that, he retracts the knife against you and that you held against him. "Good night."

Not now. Not yet. The burning in him, he wants to feel it more before anything.

The exchange has you falling to your knees as your hands weakly hold on the sink. A warning for what's to come more.

What deprivation can do to a being.

Yes, indeed what it can do to a being; it has Kishibe filling his glass with whiskey, trying to wash away whatever he's thinking, whatever he's feeling. But no matter how many downs he takes, it doesn't go away, it won't, it can't. Especially not when the sight of you and your ex-husband...lovingly held each other, even when it was short, it was undeniable there was.....love between you both still. He doesn't know the bits of your remaining relationship with your ex-husband, but he sees well enough that there isn't something between you both....and yet, when he saw that sight, it bothered him, something went off.

Another man clinging to you like that, it comes crashing down. It's getting ridiculous. He's gonna turn into ashes if he continues to let this burn.

Icarus' wings could only bear so much of the sun after all.

The day is going too fucking slow and it's driving you crazy. You're at work and you haven't even had a glimpse of him in the apartment nor at work. Just what is happening to you, acting like a damn puppy who can't seem to keep it in. It has you tired as you come home. Heels heavy as you walk through the corridors, eyes lingering to his door as you pass by.

You were left nowhere but to wait. So wait you did. Your door left open—you begin to prep for dinner after taking a long time under the water, composure building up again all while. But of course, your mind was still somewhere else, your insides never stopping of its fluttering as you mindlessly go.

By doing that, it was only a mere expectation of yours for it to now actually happen.

Though a complete lack on your part, really, that even with years of being a hunter and still having whatever you've learned and throughout all the years even when you switched from being one—you missed that someone has walked in your place.

Now you find yourself suddenly dropping the knife you were washing, the water left running as you felt a strong presence loom behind you. You stood there unmoving, breath caught in your throat the moment you felt it. Felt him.

The seconds turned slow but your heart was the opposite being filled with...thrill. "Kishibe." A breathless murmur echoes faintly but he hears it greatly and there comes his rope snapping. Your voice that's been plaguing him, it finally mutes everything.

Kishibe laid his hand on your right arm and the other around your waist as he pulled you tightly close against him, immediately meshing his fingers on your belly. Your breath being taken away from you again. He won't say he can't believe what's happening because he expected the boundness when he grew close to you.

His hand on your arm has been rising up, rough palm on your skin, his grasp heavy; feeling the softness of the fat on your arm to your shoulder, kneading you there with his mouth heated on the side of your forehead. "Been too long." In a low breath he says as he continues to tightly caress on your shoulder, before going down to slip under your dress then slipping his fingers in your bra, his thumb and index finger now playing with your nipple, the rest of his palm fondling your breast.

"I think it's just about time." You merely replied, finding your hand relying firmly on his nape, as the other reaches for the faucet to stop the running water while he goes on. Your waked mind still there before you let yourself go in a haze later.

Kishibe ghosts his face down on the side of yours, his nose breathing you in so much before he opens his eyes and looks at your lips—then to your gaze.

He feels foolish again but he feels it more so the more he thinks about it, so he just simply kisses you now.

It has been too long.

It's humorous; a simple kiss making you want to fall on your knees.

The remnants of cigarette and whiskey you're now familiar with, you can taste with mouths being held together, and he begins with mildly sucking you. His hand that was groping on your belly trails up to your neck, pushing his mouth to yours even more as he drags it open—only to suck your lips once again out of hunger that he spills freely, swallowing roughly each kiss he takes after the other, soaking his dry mouth with you—only then he uses his tongue against yours, tangling on one another, roaming it inside you, swimming his tongue in whatever saliva that gathers in your mouth. Dragging you in.

A simple kiss.

So much for it when you pull away before you could no longer breathe—your chest heaves, lips parted with air heavily leaving in and out of you. He's no different; gaze darkened as blown, you could almost hear the growl that threatens to echo from him, his grip creasing on your neck to your nape and he turns you around to face him. He pushes you just slightly to put the back of your waist against the edge of the sink, leaning his body down so he's levelled to you.

The hand of yours on his neck slides to lay it on the side of his face, it's the first time you're looking at each other this long, for more than five seconds directly, let alone this close, gazes straight through your souls. Kishibe always looks at the person he talks to straight at them without falter, and you've seen that having him done it to you only a few times, before you both always turn your eyes away as the days kept going. Now you see all of him as he allows himself.

A voracious kiss.

When has a man been so…..desperate?

When have you ever been so wanting? Shameless; rapid, messy, strong, wet.

Drowning in need you seek. Your sex has long gone weeping in your panties. Kishibe’s throbbing cock only soothed by the tightness of his clothes below, even as he was starting to drip of his own arousal, he just left it before he took you up to lay your back on the counter after suffocating your lungs in that kiss, simply pushing off the things that's there and shattered on the floor but never parting his mouth away from you, from your face, your neck, to your chest and belly while his hands took off your undergarments below as he goes down more.

It's incomprehensible. Your fate that brought you upon him, that has led to a path of the Kishibe barely on his knees to finally have a taste of your pussy. The feeling of his mouth and tongue latched on your cunt the first second was already the last thread of your hold on your existence. That hold became your fingers wading through his hair, thighs already trembling in his tight grasp, sounds of pleasure etched to your erratic breathing.

Kishibe is not at all rough when he began—subdued; each kiss he gives, each suck he takes is heavy. He doesn't want to rush. He has suffered to simply hurry and not feel every thrum he could get. His wide and long tongue flat on your whole mound, drinking your slick with each drag he licks, his stubble grazing against the hair and flesh of your cunt.

There's no words from you both, it doesn't exist. Only flesh and unruly power that conjured from your desires. Only the sounds of a hungry man one with his devils as he feeds.

It begins to rise more, the fire your body collects, his ceaseless hunger. Your grip on his hair deepening. The grind of your hips for your cunt to ride his face. The unstoppable tremble of your limbs as you move against him, thighs barely clutching to his head despite his hurtful grip to keep your sex tact to him. The repeating shock and clenching of your pussy with each spit he threw. His mouth nor breath not once waver until he gave your end, only for him to take it out of you again and again. All numb, nerves just wildly spiking everywhere within you—pussy left raw and still weeping, throat dry and eyes in tears.

However his boundless hunger, his mouth is at least given a little bit of your pussy for now for it to be enough and move next. So Kishibe then stood up, your tearful eyes following. It remains unreal to you. His lips so red, half of his face soaked. He swipes his thumb on his cheek, jaw and to his chin, catching what drips from his mouth of the myriad of your cum and swallowed it like the rest. Before that same hand ran over his dishevelled wet hair, and simply took off his tie in one go. Eyes kept on one another the whole moment.

You no longer own your breath….the sounds you've been making…the fog clears more, blinking the tears away, the coldness of the metal in spite of all the heat, your dress clinging on your skin, drenched with sweat; there's a little of shame that seeps back in you.

But you don't turn away from his gaze. Kishibe holds it. You follow him. It took you that long to make a decision. Desirably, you accept it.

Amusing as it is for Kishibe seeing you unfold, he doesn't know how much longer he could stand to not just fuck you senseless. The sound of his belt snapping as he took it off from his pants wakes you up. “Done being in your head?”

Coherent words exist again. You tirelessly breathe out a little laugh, “Barely.” You keep cursing in your head and they're louder now as he frees himself.

He couldn't help the tut on the edge of his lips when he saw the fleeting look of stun from you once he now held his cock. “Just about time, huh?” he plainly taunts as he spits on his palm before he strokes himself.

It's been so long. And he's damn big.

“Fuck you.” You scoffed.

Kishibe swears there was laughter that swirled inside him but didn't reach his mouth. Only the strain in your breath as his left hand gave your still drooling cunt attention again, your body involuntarily tensing before easing again while he slid two of his thick fingers in and barely loosened you up for just mere seconds.

The bits of pain remains treads you on edge, expecting it to double soon. His blood prevails to course so explosively.

You both expected it, nonetheless still by the skin of teeth when Kishibe grazed his cock in. Your walls a soaked and snug furnace, barely halfway—"Fucking,” he trailed off in a mutter, the fingers of his left hand digging on your thigh, the other lightly choking your throat. Each trudge he makes fill the fullness of your cunt takes. It's plain insanity.

“Just about time, huh?” You get back, barely.

Kishibe's laugh is at last freed. It really is madness. It was just an air of laugh, teeth shown; it was priceless. One that you beheld before he just plunges in with no more room left for hesitation. “You fucking—” you growled after he slammed into you, your sudden glare sharply closing as your body took in that shocking goodness against the pain.

“This is nothing yet.”

It is.

It was.

But once again when he began, it's slow and kept. The sting that drags melts more to tight fondling sensations from every thrust he pushes deep in your pussy. You didn't think you would have had a cock fuck you to be this staggering, render you brainless—or more so believe it that's it now happening after having……fantasized of it. Kishibe's cock feeds your pussy so well. You keep him in too well. Soon then again, his abilities are not held back and it's just quite pitiful how you're holding back to not just already break and cum for the nth time. It doesn't matter to him, not really—he wants nothing more than to wring you empty for him.

That's just what he does. He let it go by unsaid as he kept fucking you, making you break no sooner. Your mind barely comprehends he's kissing you as your cum spills and he's still ramming again and again, not making you ride your high, letting his drool make a mess on your mouth again.

You don't stop him however, nor you could in your state. And when he reaches his first end, how is it still possible you break more? Kishibe's left hand holding a death grip on the edge of the counter above your head once he stilled deep inside you, his pulsing cock floods your pussy of his cum. Much of it. He'll be moulding you to a greedy creature in no time, meeting his own ruin. Eyes mirroring too clearly upon one another. You're far gone than you'd have thought you'd be with him, and you don't want to ever go back.

Kishibe has long made that decision before he invaded your home tonight.

The high strongly lingers, still burrowing himself in you before he slowly moves and relives that beating high again. Thick drools of hotness webs in your walls that keeps you full even as he pulls out entirely and seeps out from your folds.

Heats still raging and barely satiated after having much of it.

Your kitchen is a mess and reeking of sex. He takes you standing and bent over the counter after, easily holding you up as he railed you like so, drenching your cunt again with his cum. Keeping his prowess in his wield, when he just carried you to your living room after and had you on his lap as he sat on a couch. Your clothes finally ripped off of you and had you bare as you rode him while he watched and felt the glory. Remnants of your sex left on the couch when he took yourselves to your bedroom, taking you again with your face buried in the sheets, back arched for him as he fucked you from behind. And when you both break again, he doesn't stop, instead loomed himself over your back and still delved his cock in and out endlessly while cum flows out messily, your loud moans strained from his hand squeezing your throat and head deep on the bed. Even as the dawn rises, Kishibe remains.

No end in sight.

#csm kishibe #csm kishibe x reader #I love when my man is shipped with women/readers around his age #don't get me wrong (legal) agegaps are okay #but damnnnn #growing old together 🫶🏼#with someone as fucked up as you...#holy shiiiiiiit #chefs kiss #btw he's my fav character #hoping Fujimoto brings him back soon 😿#.oran berry 💭#getting inspiration from this one to draw more an oc <3

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tojjist · 1 year ago

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“with you?”

the way he snorts at your suggestion is almost offensive. he shakes his head as if the simple thought of it is absurd.

“what do you mean with me? you got a problem with me?” you scoff, bumping your shoulder into his. “what's wrong with me, mister?”

“i could name about 20 things wrong with you, ma'am,” he teases back, tugging at your shirt. “let's start with this. it should be on the floor.”

it's not long before the shirt is on the floor. along with the rest of your clothes.

GOJO SATORU, rensuke kunigami, KAEYA ALBERICH, geto suguru, kishibe, HIROFUMI YOSHIDA, mikage reo, (ooc) todoroki shoto

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saintkaylaa · 6 months ago

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Nudes .ᐟ

ᡣ𐭩: aki, angel, kishibe, yoshida

note: you accidentally send nudes! (early dating or pre-relationship)

warnings: cursing, suggestive, f!reader

I BLOCK MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS

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daisynik7 · 1 year ago

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Cure for a Hangover

Pairing: Kishibe x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.9k

cw: next-door neighbor Kishibe, age gap (I’m thinking at least fifteen years, Kishibe pushing mid-forties, reader is in her late 20s/early 30s), alcohol consumption, p*rn no plot, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl), blowjob, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, nipple play, pet names (sweetheart, angel, kiddo)

Summary: Kishibe is your mysterious, brooding, and significantly older next-door neighbor. You’ve lived beside him for a while now, only exchanging basic pleasantries out of politeness, never anything more. One night, he comes home drunk, or so he thinks. It’s not his door he’s slumped again; it’s yours.

Author’s Notes: It’s been a minute since I wrote for Kishibe and I really do miss it. This old man continues to do wonders to me, so I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks! MDNI divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

Taglist: @batafuraikisu @neverlandlostchild @bloompompom @dprkento @a-listaire @man-knees @demonwoman (bc Kishibe using kiddo as a pet name is living in my head rent free thanks to you)

part 3 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series

It’s not often that you’re met with a man slumped against your door, but here you are, staring down at your next-door neighbor, Kishibe, doing just that.

It’s past two in the morning now, and you’ve just come back from your own night out with your friends. You’re not nearly as drunk as you were three hours ago, after pounding glasses of Chardonnay while watching cheesy romance movies at your best friend’s apartment. And you’re certainly not as inebriated as the man before you, who absolutely reeks of liquor, even from a small distance away.

You inspect the scene thoroughly, unsure what to do in this scenario. Kishibe is basically a stranger to you. Sure, you’ve exchanged basic pleasantries here and there over that past year since you moved in. That’s as far as it goes. You have no idea what his profession is, though you have a solid guess as to what it could be, given his work attire and overall physique. While you’ve never run into one yourself, devils run rampart in Tokyo, hell-bent on causing chaos wherever they spawn. Kishibe looks like a Devil Hunter, whose job is to eliminate these monsters. It’s intriguing, that’s for sure, but you’ve never mustered the courage to ask him about it, leaving him to maintain his mysterious demeanor.

However, right now, you don’t see a Devil Hunter in front of you. Instead, it’s a simple man who is very drunk and very much in your way.

Deciding to help him, because that’s the only choice you have if you want to get into your apartment, you kneel down to search his overcoat, patting the breast pocket for keys. When you find nothing, you move to his pants, retrieving only his phone. His eyes are closed and he’s snoring, blissfully unaware of your predicament in his drunken stupor. You take this time to study his face. He’s looks much older up close; not only that, he’s even more handsome than you originally thought. There’s a prominent scar running from his mouth to his jaw, surely an interesting story behind it. You’re tempted to trace it delicately with your finger, but you ultimately resist the urge, snapping out of it to investigate his phone for any clues.

There are several missed calls and texts from a person named Kenji. You use the Face ID feature to unlock his phone, thanking the universe that even with his eyes shuts, it works. Not wanting to pry more than necessary, you check the most recent texts for the answer to your question: Where the hell are his keys?

Kenji: you left your keys at the bar, come back now. I’m closing up soon

Kenji: I’m not waiting for your ass

Kenji: I’m leaving, get them tomorrow

You read over the messages once more, groaning quietly to yourself at your dumb luck. Desperate now, you resort to the next logical step.

“Hey,” you say, tapping him lightly on the cheek, rousing him awake. “Kishibe.”

Slowly, but surely, he opens his eyes, half-lidded, struggling to focus on you. “Huh?” His breath is heavy with liquor, most likely whiskey. His voice is deep and gravelly, and you hate admitting that’s it’s almost sexy. Well, not almost. It is sexy.

Letting the inappropriate thought fade, you say, “You’re at the wrong apartment. This is mine.”

He blinks three times, opening his eyes properly to stare at you, expression confused. “Am I dead?”

You bite your lip, holding back laughter. “No, you’re not.”

“Am I in heaven?”

You shake your head, repeating, “No, you’re not.”

“Then why is there any angel here with me?” He sounds sincere, and you can’t help but break out into a genuine smile.

“I’m not an angel,” you reply, giggling.

His lips curve into a cocky grin. “You sure? You look like one to me.” Cheeky bastard, hitting on you while he’s plastered. And look at you, finding it endearing when he does.

Slightly more relaxed, you slide the phone into his breast pocket, standing up to unlock your door. You can’t just leave him out here all night, so you decide to let him stay with you until he’s sober enough to call a locksmith. You jiggle the keys, turning the knob to open the door, and suddenly, there’s a loud thud, and then a delayed, “Ow.” He’s laid flat in the middle of your doorway, hitting his head on the hardwood. You feel guilty, not having the foresight to see this coming. His body is much sturdier than you anticipated.

You kneel down, apologizing. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

He winces, rubbing the back of his skull, then gives you a goofy smile. “I’ll be fine. Think I can get a kiss to make it feel better?”

You roll your eyes at him, once again unable to contain your laughter. “I’ll get you some ice. Let’s get you to the couch first, okay?”

Somehow, some way, whether it’s spurred by adrenaline or desperation to finally get some sleep in your own bed, you manage to haul him up by the armpits and drag him the short distance to your couch. You fluff a pillow and place it under his head, making it as comfortable as possible for him. “I’ll get the ice now.”

Before you can stand up, he grabs your wrist, gripping you tightly. “What about my kiss?”

“Nope. Not happening. I bet you don’t even know my name,” you challenge him.

He doesn’t respond, loosening his hold so you can get up. You fill a plastic bag with ice, returning to surround the back of his head with it. Eventually, he utters your name, eyes closed while he relaxes to your touch. He peeks at you with one eye open, waiting for you to confirm.

You nod, grinning. “So, you do know my name.”

“Can I get my kiss now?” he teases, gazing at you.

You shake your head. “Definitely not. I will not take advantage of a drunk person, that’s fucked up.”

He sighs, exhaling deeply, broad chest rising and falling. “Yeah, you’re right. I knew you were a good girl.”

You try not to hang on to those words, especially the last two, already fluttering below your belly over it. Grabbing his hand to replace yours, you instruct him to keep it there while you return to the kitchen to pour him a large glass of water. Within the short amount of time you’re gone, he falls asleep, his hand barely holding onto to the ice pack.

You smile to yourself, setting the glass of water down on the coffee table to continue attending to his minor injury. After a while, when you notice that there isn’t any bump or swelling developing, you stop icing him. He snores peacefully in a deep sleep, no sign of waking up anytime soon. As gingerly as you can, you remove his overcoat, draping it over the back of the couch. You set his phone next to the glass of water, for easy access. His tie looks tight around his collar, so you loosen it. Finally, you remove his shoes from his feet, laying them by the front door near your own pair. You’re certain he’ll wake up in the morning, feeling like shit, so you place a bottle of painkillers by his phone in case he needs them.

It's past three now by the time you’re dressed down in your pajamas and snuggled in bed. You keep the door ajar, listening to Kishibe’s steady breathing in the living room, treating it like white noise to help you fall fast asleep.

~~~

Kishibe wakes up with his head throbbing. He stares up at the ceiling, not recognizing it as his own. It doesn’t take long for him to realize that this isn’t his apartment.

He turns, seeing his phone, a glass of water, and a bottle of painkillers on the coffee table arm’s reach of him. Slowly, he sits up, grimacing from the pain, downing all the water in three large gulps. He checks his phone, thankfully still on its last leg of battery. It’s almost eleven on a Saturday morning and he’s sure Kenji, his bartender friend, is already awake, preparing for the day.

“Kenji,” he mutters, throat hoarse from last night’s festivities.

His friend first berates him for forgetting his keys, then laughs when Kishibe explains that somehow, some way, he managed to fall asleep on someone else’s couch. He could have woken up in worst conditions, that’s for sure.

Kenji agrees to stop by after running his errands, in about two hours or so. Beggars can’t be choosers, so Kishibe has no choice but to wait. When they’re phone conversation is over, he sinks back into the cushions, trying to piece everything together from just a few hours ago. He recalls snippets of it, and he grows increasingly embarrassed as the memories play vividly in his brain. He’s certain he called his neighbor an angel, and even more sure that he was begging her for a kiss. How shit-faced was he to compel him to do that? Obviously, very. How could he let his intrusive thoughts blurt out of his mouth like that?

Call it cliché or whatever, but yes, Kishibe is attracted his young, pretty neighbor next door. However, he’s held off on making a move because he doesn’t want to make things between them awkward. Once he crosses that line, their relationship gets more complicated. And the devil knows that Kishibe doesn’t do complicated. So, he’s content with gazing from afar, exchanging basic small talk with one another whenever they pass each other in the hallway. That’s as far as it’s gone with her, and that’s as far as it will go.

Of course, that’s all fucked up now thanks to his drunken antics from last night.

Before he can make his move, he hears a bedroom door creak open from behind him. She comes out, looking fresh out of the shower, dressed in skimpy pajama bottoms that are short enough to expose that tantalizing curve right below her ass. Surely, she’s doing this on purpose, right? She has to know how fucking sexy she looks right now, there’s no way she doesn’t.

He clears his throat, preparing to explain himself right off the bat to avoid an awkward confrontation. But he’s rendered momentarily speechless when she flashes a bright smile at him. “Morning, Kishibe.”

He huffs out a short laugh. “Morning.”

She steps towards him, sitting at the opposite end of the couch by his feet. Her shorts ride up and he’s sure he can see the lacey outline of her panties. Or maybe it’s just his perverse imagination, who knows at this point. “How are you feeling?” she asks, genuinely concerned.

He grunts. “Like shit,” he answers. “But it could be worse.”

“That’s the spirit,” she teases, patting his knee.

His head pounds from his hangover, though it’s his heartbeat that thumps loudly against his eardrums, aroused by her touch. He has got to control himself. Doing his best to distract her from the raging boner growing beneath his slacks, he asks, “What happened last night?”

She explains her account of the evening in detail, her voice soft and soothing, cautious of his current headache. She leaves out the parts where he embarrasses himself, which he’s grateful for, not wanting to relive the humiliation. When she’s done, she offers, “If you want, you can take a shower while you wait for your friend to arrive. I can get you some towels. I even have a toothbrush you can use.”

He raises a brow at her. “Are you trying to tell me I stink?”

“Do you need someone to tell you that you stink? I thought it was pretty obvious given the state you’re in,” she quips, matching his expression.

He laughs, genuinely amused by her response. “Yeah, can’t argue with that.”

She leads him into her bathroom, showing him how to work the knob for hot water, pointing out the shampoo, conditioner, and soap kept neatly on a corner shelf of her bathtub. She lingers for a bit while he starts the shower, then hands him a clean towel and new toothbrush. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Surprisingly, he makes it through his shower without succumbing to the temptation to touch himself. As degenerate as he can be, he still has some sense of respect and pride in him, enough to resist masturbating in his neighbor’s shower. He does, however, give her shampoo and conditioner bottles an extra-long sniff.

He dries off, scrubbing his hair with the towel, cleaning behind his ears with cotton swabs, checking his piercings. Towel wrapped around his waist, he brushes his teeth, making sure to go the full two minutes, scrubbing his tongue after. He hasn’t made the best impression so far, so he figures he should try to change that now, if there’s still a chance. Feeling fresh and clean, he stares down at his clothes in a pile on the floor. Even from where he stands, he can smell them, almost like they’ve been diluted in liquor and musk. Without thinking, he steps out of the bathroom, calling out her name. “Got any clothes I could borrow?”

She’s in the kitchen when he comes out, leaning over the stove as she cooks something that smells wonderful. She turns to face him, staring wide-eyed as he stands almost naked in the middle of her living room. Her gaze drifts down his bare body, lingering on his sculpted abs, then at the towel wrapped precariously around his waist. She snaps out of it in time, saying, “I don’t. Sorry.”

“My clothes fucking stink and I don’t want to wear them right now. Mind if I just walk around like this?”

“Sure. I mean, I don’t mind.” She focuses her attention back to the pan, continuing to cook what looks like scrambled eggs.

He knows this is a bizarre request, though this day couldn’t get any more bizarre than it already is, can it?

~~~

You’re not exactly sure how to refuse Kishibe’s request to walk around half naked in your apartment, so instead, you agree to it, claiming that you don’t mind. In actuality, you mind very much, simply because you can’t help but fantasize about the delicious sight beneath the towel. One wrong move like a bump to the hip is all it takes to see that pesky cover fall down. Geez, when did you become such a pervert? And for an old man?!

Desperate for a distraction, you maintain focus on the eggs in front of you. While he was in the shower, you decided to start breakfast, something hearty to combat that hangover of his. Scrambled eggs, toast, and sausage, comforting foods to soak up the remaining alcohol left in his body. He makes his way towards you, scooting a chair out from the table to take a seat. He strategically maneuvers himself to not accidentally expose you, though you really don’t mind if he does. Again, perverted thoughts, shame on you!

Finished cooking, you scoop the eggs out onto his plate and the other meant for you. He thanks you, taking a whiff of his breakfast, a small smile on his face. “Smells good.”

You pass him another glass of liquid, this one filled with an electrolyte drink meant for hydration after a night of drinking. “Drink this. It’ll help with your hangover.”

He eyes it suspiciously, then takes a gulp without questioning it further.

The two of you eat in a comfortable silence, ignoring the obvious tension hanging in the air. From your peripheral, you notice the glint of steel hooked to his ear lobe. Piercings, which you never noticed before. Sexy.

He ends up finishing his entire meal, popping a few painkillers to chase it all down. He even chugs the electrolyte drink, claiming it isn’t so bad. While you take the last few bites of your toast, he excuses himself to brush his teeth again. You’re surprised at how hygienic he is, considering how he appeared before you just mere hours ago, hunched against your front door covered in his own liquor-soaked sweat. You take the plates, stacking them in the sink to wash for later. How much longer is his friend going to take to arrive here? You’re getting nervous, thinking of other ways to fill this gap of time without making your attraction to him so obvious.

You sit on the couch, turning the TV on to a random sitcom with the volume low, listening to the rush of water from the faucet inside the bathroom. When it stops, you try to find a comfortable position to sit in. It’s only now that you realize how short your pajama bottoms are; they ride all the way up your thighs and you can practically see your underwear through them. It’s too late to change when Kishibe returns, still clad in just a towel, taking a seat on the other side of the couch a safe distance beside you. It’s silent for a brief moment, neither of you knowing what to say in this odd situation. You shift nervously, tugging at the hem of your shorts.

“Thank you,” he starts, avoiding your gaze, staring ahead at the television. “For taking care of me. Must have been annoying to deal with a drunken old man.”

You smile, relaxing. “It wasn’t so bad. Besides, I couldn’t just leave you out there like that. Someone could have taken advantage of you.”

“Like you almost did?” he smirks, facing you now.

Laughing, you meet his gaze. “You remember that?”

“I do.” He spreads his legs apart just barely, towel draped dangerously over his knee, almost ready to slip.

You swallow hard, avoiding a glance in that direction, heat surrounding your cheeks. “Well, I was a good girl, remember? I didn’t do anything.”

He hums, nodding slowly, eyes drilling into yours. “You were a very good girl.”

Your breath hitches and you find yourself gravitating towards him, scooting closer. He grins, the scar on his cheek curving with it, voice low and seductive. “You gonna be bad for me now?”

“Only if you want me to,” you purr, sliding your hand beneath the towel, up his thigh, arousal pooling between your legs. Fuck it. He wants it, you want it. There’s no denying it anymore.

“Fuck,” he swears under his breath, pulling you in for a kiss. His mouth is cool and minty against yours, the remnants of toothpaste lingering in his spit. You slurp it up, hungry for any taste of him. He removes the towel from his waist, shrugging it to the floor, leaving him completely naked. You glance at his lap and bite back a moan, amazed at how fucking big he is, way too eager to have him inside you, desperate to be filled to the brim.

“Not bad for an old man, huh?” he chuckles, wrapping his fist around the shaft, stroking it.

“Not bad at all,” you smile, stripping out of your clothes hastily, kneeling between his legs with your mouth open.

He feeds you his cock, humming when you surround him in your wet heat, swallowing him to the hilt. One hand grips the back of your head, guiding you gently up and down his shaft. “You’re filthy, taking your neighbor’s cock like this. Who knew you’d be such a slut?” he mutters, caressing the side of your face with his other hand. “Touch yourself while I fuck this filthy mouth. Get that pretty pussy wet for me.”

You obey, spurred on by his vulgarity, reaching for your arousal, rubbing your throbbing clit with fast fingers. His cock hits the back of your throat and you guzzle him down to resist gagging, drool leaking from the sides of your lips. He moans, bucking his hips slightly, enraptured by you. With his thumb, he brushes away a tear welling at the corner of your eye, pulling out halfway. “Don’t hurt yourself, kiddo. It’s okay if I’m too much for you.”

You release him completely, moving down to his balls, nuzzling your nose to them. “I can take it, don’t worry.”

He clicks his teeth, beckoning you on the couch, almost like you’re being scolded for something you weren’t supposed to do. You roll your eyes, sitting beside him begrudgingly. He leans close to you, hot on your ear, one hand sliding between your legs while the other continues to stroke his dick. “I want to touch you too. That okay?”

You whine in response, tugging him in for a passionate kiss. He massages deep circles around your clit, fingers squelching from your slick gathering along your entrance. “I want a taste,” he growls, splitting apart your thighs, staring at your glistening cunt.

You nod, sinking into the couch, relinquishing all control to him. You let your pleasured moans speak for you as he dives into your pussy, eating you out sloppily. His facial hair grazes against you with each careful stroke of his tongue and you ache to see his chin shiny with your cum. Eventually, he slips inside you, pumping two digits in and out, mouth still working your bud. Soon, it becomes too much and you’re gushing for him, whimpering his name with ragged breaths, soaking his face in your essence.

He chuckles, the vibrations resonating to your clit, causing you to twitch with overstimulation. “That’s my girl, making such a mess for me.”

“Fuck me, Kishibe,” you breathe out, craving to be stuffed full of him. You’re reeling from your high, and if he’s not inside you soon, you’re sure you’ll go insane.

He hoists you up onto his lap, precum oozing from the tip of his dick. “How about you fuck me? Show me how much of a slut you are.”

Too fucked out to argue, you lift up on your knees, position him to your wet hole, sinking down slowly. He slides in easily, pussy sleek from your previous orgasm. It’s better than you imagined, every inch of him stimulating every inch of you. You savor it, rocking against him slowly. He kisses along on your neck, trailing to your nipples to suckle on them. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he moans, thrusting up into you to match your rhythm. “Take this cock however you like. It’s all yours.”

You bounce on him faster, whimpering into his mouth as you kiss him. He palms your ass cheeks, squeezing them in his firm grip, delivering a few loud smacks that echo off the walls of your living room, stinging your skin. “Fuck, I knew you were a good girl. Knew it the moment I met you,” he growls, pressing his thumb to your swollen clit. “Always wanted you like this.”

You kiss him harder at his confession, your chest swelling, pussy fluttering. You’re approaching another climax, teetering on the edge. As if he senses it, he tightens his hold on you, fucking into you faster, deeper. “Come for me, angel. Come on this cock.”

And you do, clenching him with your orgasm, making him mutter, “Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming with you.” He shoots his load inside you, filling you up, just like you wanted.

It takes a moment for the two of you to catch your breaths, relaxing into each other’s arms, exchanging soft kisses without speaking. You study his face again, similar to how you did just several hours before, when he was slumped against your door, drunk. You thought he was handsome then, even more so now. “How’s your hangover?” you ask, breaking the silence.

He smiles, nuzzling his nose to yours. “Much better.”

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