#kishibe fanart

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

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

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

wc: 12.9k Ao3 Masterlist

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

What a joke.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re under my instruction.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You going to make it?” He scoffs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 What Devil would corner itself? 

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

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

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

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

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

It doesn’t want to escape. 

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

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

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

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

Too late. 

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

You both had the same realization. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Flask please.” You asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” You asked, panted, actually. 

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

“Kishibe, what?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Open your mouth more.” Kishibe bossed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally. 

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

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

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

“You sure about that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You!”

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

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

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

“You! Kishibe you, I belong to you.”

He dug his nails in harder, “Who?”

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

“Captain!” You tried again. 

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

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

“Who am I?”

It hit you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I feel like—…”

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

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

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

“Kishi?” Your voice was still hoarse. 

He kept walking. 

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

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

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

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

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

Wait..

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

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

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

You took his hand and led him down the sidewalk. You were right, it wasn't even three full blocks away. A tall building, a large neon flower in the window, a white awning hanging above.. 

“Just, don’t talk, okay?” You told him as you walked inside he rolled his eyes but followed you.

A bored looking clerk sat at the desk, he had a pair of bulky headphones plugged into a walkman on his desk. A chime rang out as you entered, but the music must have been too loud, he didn't flinch. He didn't move until you approached the desk. He ripped off his headphones as though you were his boss catching him slacking off, but his frightened eyes grew suspicious as he took in the pair of you. Your shirt was buttoned wrong, your tie was lost somewhere, as was your jacket. Your cheek was bleeding, bruises on your neck unhidden by the haphazard collar. Kishibe looked no better, blood on his shirt, which was missing quite a few buttons, tie still on, but barely, his hair was a mess. His usual stoic scowl had been replaced with a harsh glare trained directly at the clerk, his foot tapping like a caged animal.  

“Excuse me, hello. We would like to check in.” You tried your best to sound casual.

“Um…” The clerk hesitated. 

“We’re…”You thought on your feet and said the first thing that you could think of, “Engaged! We just got engaged, I mean. And our..in laws! Yes, our in-laws are in town and we don't have a lot of privacy and we just want to…celebrate.” 

The clerk eyed you both again, analysing you and Kishibe individually and no doubt trying to parse together how you would fit as a couple. 

“We would like an overnight room.” You continued, trying to remind him of the actual task at hand. 

Kishibe was stunned by your plan, by how bold it was, and how poorly you were pulling it off. You worked at a secret (ish) organization, for fuck’s sake. But he was amused by your efforts, so he doubled down with you. 

He wrapped a big arm around your shoulder, leaning over the desk, “Maybe something with a tub.” 

The clerk nodded, whatever was in front of him was none of his business, he saw plenty of strange pairs come through the lobby. And anywhere there was no way he was getting his ass kicked by this guy at his current pay rate. 

“Yeah…okay,I just need a credit card to put on file.” He finally explained. 

Your wallet was safely tucked in the car, you didn’t have anything. You hadn’t even considered this part, how could you have not thought about this? Kishibe pulled a leather card carrier from his coat pocket, not a credit card but his Public Safety clearance badge and slapped it down on the counter. 

“How’s that card work?” He hissed. 

The clerk scanned it briefly, sighing, probably lamenting the admissions given to government workers and retrieved a key from the corkboard behind him and handed it over. 

“Whatever man, just don't break anything.” He had checked out of the conversation the moment Kishibe had approached, he put his headphone back on, “Fifth floor. Check out is at 10am.” 

Kishibe took the key and his badge and pulled you toward the elevator. 

“Thank you!” You waved to the clerk, just barely getting it out before the elevator doors closed. 

You had half expected Kishibe to pounce on you the moment they did, but he stayed still. Watching the numbers above the door illuminate and dim. 

“So when’s the wedding?” He finally spoke at the illumination of the third floor. 

“Shut up, it got us here, didn’t it?” You laughed. 

“Right, it was your stellar in-law cock block story that got us up here, and not the government issued free pass badge.”, He cracked a smile. 

You both laughed, the chime of the elevator alerted you the doors would open on the fifth floor. The tag on the key was for room 5102, close to the elevator. Kishibe pressed you forward by your waist, leading you out of the elevator and down a few doors to the room. He unlocked the door and you stepped inside. The room was fine, a large king bed placed in front of a boxy, but relatively new tv. A radio clock on one night stand, a lamp on the other. The door shut and locked behind you, Kishibe fasted the chain lock, the dead bolt, and the handle lock, then turned back to you. He saw the abrasion on your cheek, the blood beginning to dry. He took your face in his hands, running his thumb along the outside of it. Guilt pulled at the back of his brain, but fuck he couldnt hold out anymore, he circled his other arm around your back and pulled you in to his mouth. Without the urgency, without the danger, he could kiss you and feel like he earned it. He kissed you deeply, tilting your head back, tasting your mouth, pushing you back toward the bed. You melted in his arms, finally feeling them for how sturdy and safe they could be. Your tongue pushed against his, his hand frond your hair, you found the front of his pants, unbuttoning them quickly. Where his belt had gone was a mystery, but none of your concern. You pushed them off his legs until your knees met the edge of the mattress. You tugged at the rest of your shirt buttons, pulling it off of you and tossing it aside, your tie followed. He finally let you leave his kiss to pull his own shirt over his head and off, his coat seeming to have disappeared. You both shuffled out of your pants and underwear, You reached behind to unclasp your bra, shrugging it down your arms. The process taking only seconds but feeling like a frigid, isolated eternity separated from him. It was like you were magnetized, pulled together by a gravitational force that took everything in you to resist. He stood in front of you, bare, studying your figure, trying to commit every inch of your body to memory. Every freckle, every scar, every bend and shadow of muscle, every fold, everything. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was, to see you in your truest form, wanton and waiting. He thanked whatever evil caused this Devil’s creation, and cursed himself in the same breath for doing so. But trailing his hands up your curves, to take hold of your full, perfect breasts, he found himself brought to his knees before you, a zealot at the altar of you. You let him push you back onto the bed, the cushioned mattress underneath you was nirvana compared to the grit and gravel he had taken you on before. Your legs spread themselves, no longer needing your guidance, no longer held together by your barely removed pants. Kishibe’s wet tongue moved up your leg, he could taste your sweat, and he reveled in it until he found his next vice, your legs were still coated in the arousal that leaked from you, sticking to your skin under your pants and now coating his tongue, destroying his mind. Or what was left of it. 

Tasting you brought him higher and higher, cleaning your soiled thighs, swirling his tongue over the top of your knee, flattening the soft hairs with his tongue, spit laying them flat in his wake. Your hips jerked up as he joined you on the bed, agile body moving between your legs. He pulled your legs further apart, not bothering to look at your face. No, his eyes were fixed on your pussy as you spread open for him. Your perfect, drooly, needy cunt parting itself, drawing him forward. He made no effort to stop the line of saliva that dripped from the corner of his mouth, he didn’t even feel it. He didn’t feel anything, anything except hunger, except want, except need. Perfect folds and layers, ready for him, begging for his touch, you really were made for him. In a single look he forgot every piece of fine art he ever saw, every inch of his earth that any numb skull could have called glorious, he knew glory now. True glory. And he needed it to be his, to claim it for his own. 

Kishibe had moved to his knees, hands firm on your legs to either side of him, hunched over your body, you felt shy under such an intense stare, right to where you were most vulnerable. You reached up and brushed your fingertips over his cheek and back around his ear bringing his attention back to your face. 

“Kishibe…”You moaned in a whisper. 

You looked so desperate underneath him, the pillow lucky to be graced with your hair, him, even luckier to bear witness to such beauty. Your mouth hung open slightly, pupils blown out under heavy lidded eyes. Your breasts rising shakily with panting breaths. 

“Please, I can’t wait anymore, Kishibe please,” You begged, tugging him by his neck, “Fuck me.” 

The jolt that sent through his body could knock out every electrical grid in Japan. He pulls your hips down to him, then lifts them to be level with his own. Holding you up with one hand, his other aligns his cock with the hole he could now picture with perfect clarity. His dark eyes caught yours, he watches them fly open as he penetrates you. Finally able to take you how he needs, he is able to slide into you deliciously, pressing against your g spot. Your back arches up under his hand, but he follows, not able to stand being parted from you. It would take an act of God to remove him, at this point. Your tight walls tremble around him, working their hardest to allow him inside. It was bizarre, impossible, inhuman. You subconsciously press against his stomach. Pushing him away, unable to handle the deluge of pleasure and pressure he is causing.

He grips your hips harder, bruising them, and presses into you more, “where do you think you’re going.” 

You whimper as he presses against your cervix, grabbing at the bed sheets, trying to leverage your hips back, but finding the bed is blocking your escape. And still your legs wrap around his hips, torn between trying to pull him inside further, and trying to free yourself.  One of his rough hands leaves your hip and he takes your hand in his, interlocking your fingers. You melt back down into the bed, giving him the room to pull his hips back. Kishibe leans over you, laying you back on the bed, blocking out the still illuminated overhead light with his shoulder as he thrusts into you again. He squeezes your hand harder with every thrust. His lips find your neck again, your hands wrap around his neck, tangling in his soft, white hair. He fucks into you fast, pushing himself, and your poor body to their limits, you have no choice but to hold on and succumb to the waves of pleasure. 

He kisses you again, lips hot and swollen, “So good.” 

He repeats it like a mantra, again and again as he bottoms out inside and pulls back. He can’t do anything but repeat it. The friction, your lips, finally having you for himself since this whole ordeal began, he can’t last. 

The praise, the feeling of him inside, the relief of a bed under you, the feeling of his pelvis rocking against your clit, it all becomes too much and you feel yourself tighten around him. You know he feels it too because he grips your hand and breaks the kiss to cry out in delicious agony. 

“Don’t--.”Is all he manages to let out before his climax blinds him, the lamp light blooming white and over taking all his senses. 

The obscene sounds he makes and the sight of his pleasure scrunched face push you to follow him, cumming for the third time. 

His cock pulses inside of you, painting your insides with his cum. He feels like it will never end, he doesn’t want it too. Kishibe wants to see your tummy swollen, a trail of cum dripping out from between your legs, your face covered in it, your tongue full of it. He wants you full, inside and out, marked as his, full of him, for all to see. He wants you round and pregnant, showing off everything he has done to you. He wants to see you helpless and bred, full breasts ready to be fed from. 

He’s losing his fucking mind. 

He had never wanted children in his life, he made medically sure of it nearly two decades ago, but right now if he could stitch it back together himself he would. Coming back to himself, he sees you panting below him, and nearly cums again. Your mouth hinges open, and your tongue flops out. 

“Spit.” You huff. 

His face must have betrayed his surprise. 

“Please, I need it, please,” You please, “Spit in my mouth, please, Kishi.” 

He takes your face in his left hand, tilting it back, extending your mouth even more with his thumb on your chin. He lets a full, slow string of saliva fall from his mouth into yours, watching it slip down your tongue. You lap it up eagerly, leaning up to lick some stray fluid off of his chin. Your pussy squeezes him again as you move. You keen back happily, the taste of him in your mouth, and the feeling of him inside of you bringing you a blissful feeling of balance. 

“Nasty girl…”He chides, leaning back onto his knees, watching your eyes flutter closed. 

A smile upturns your perfect lips, “mmmmmhm.”

“I have to pull out now.” He warns, you let out a long, displeased whine as he does. 

Coming down from your own high, you catch your breath on the bed, only reopening your eyes when the bed sinks next to you, you turn your neck to him. His flushed, bruises on his neck, his chest, scratch marks on his arms and chest, the two red bursts in his eyes, you hadn’t realized you were so rough on him. He looked over your figure, seeing the abrasions on your chest from the brick, the marks of his teeth, the bruises his hands left on your body, the cut on your cheek. A Pair. 

You brush a disarranged hair off his temple, gentle fingers feeling the sweat cooling on his brow. 

“How do you feel?” You whispered, voice hoarse. 

He moves onto his back beside you, taking your hand in his, kissing the back, and bringing it down to his chest, over his heart. You could feel the rhythm steadying itself.

“Coming down.” He studies your face, “How do you feel?”

You nodded, “Good, a little sore.” 

“Do you think it’s over?”

You shrugged, “I feel better? Less like I am going to die, which is good.” 

He nodded, his mind was clearing, the virus releasing its hold on him. He tried to remember his usual bedside manner,“You should probably…you know…”

You smiled again, moving carefully to sit up, “I didn’t expect you to be so diligent about UTI avoidance.” 

He leaned up on his elbow, “You don’t know me as well as you think.” 

“I like what I’m learning.” You flirted, standing and walking to the small bathroom. 

Kishibe watched your behind sway as you left him. Once the door was shut behind you, he fell on his back staring up to the ceiling. Everything that had transpired tonight flashed through his mind, his cock had hardly softened but now it ached again. Would this ever be over? And when it did, what would become of you two. The poison still plagued his mind, it was a logical jump to assume it was still affecting you too. He didn’t know how to be around you after this, he couldn’t even begin to picture the logistics of bringing you back to work, seeing you everyday and knowing everything he knew now. He wanted to know what you thought, if you felt differently about him, if this was a bizarre, horrible accident that ruined any kind of real feeling that could have existed between the two of you. He couldn’t bear waiting anymore, he had to be close to you again before this ended. He stood, joints clicking, dick hard, and crossed to the bathroom door. He knocked.

“Yeah?” your voice rang from the other side of the door. 

He hesitated, pressing his forehead against the wood, fighting back the words that were about to come out, “Can I come in?” 

You were silent behind the door for a few seconds, he wasn't sure how he expected you to respond. 

“Sure, it’s unlocked.” Your voice came again. 

He turned the nob and opened the door, you were standing at the sink, cleaning the cut on your cheek. 

“Got lonely in there?” You smiled at him through the mirror, and it warmed his fearful chest.  

Kishibe wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you from behind as you carried on dabbing a cool cloth on your face. He hummed an affirmative response, against your neck, smelling deep the smell of your skin. He occupied himself pressing kisses to your neck and shoulder while you finished. His eyelashes tickled behind your ear and you caught his eyes in the mirror as you giggled. 

“You’re clingier after sex than I expect.”

He kept your gaze in the mirror, “Expected, huh? Thought about this before?” 

Why lie, call it exhaustion, or maybe the poison was still working on you, “Yeah.” 

He didn’t flinch, still looking at you through the glass, “Me too.” he confessed. 

You turned in his hold, the reflection no longer enough of a view for you, you had to look at his face, his real face. 

“So why didn’t we ever…?” 

He shrugged, “Didn’t seem right,” but that wasn’t the full truth, “Didn’t want to lose you.” 

You were touched by his admission, his vulnerability. Certainly the influence of adrenaline crash and hormonal endorphins racing through both of you. You felt your throat tighten, your tear ducts start to burn. Sex always complicated things, especially when jobs and feelings were involved. Depending on how the morning played out, this could be the last time you had the chance to be exposed and alone with him. 

“I don’t want to lose you either.” One hot tear fell from your eye, stinging your freshly cleaned cheek. 

Kishibe wiped the tear away, his face still as unreadable as ever, “then you won't. Not yet.”

“What do you want? From all of this, I mean.” You asked him, not accusation or malice in your voice. 

Kishibe sighed, smoothing your hair and holding your face, “I want to enjoy being here with you, while we work this out of our systems. Tomorrow morning I would like to drive you home, so you can rest. We will file the report, be only as honest as we want to be, give the sample to the lab, clock out, and then figure it out from there.” 

Then he moved his hands down to your shoulders, pulling you even closer and kissing you hard. A kiss that was devoid of the Devil’s influence, no hungry, tasting tongue, no hot, fevered breath.  Just his lips sealed to yours, your body pressed against his, and a promise to try. When he pulled away he spoke again, 

“But right now I want us both to get in that tub.” 

The night didn’t end there, the waves of fervent arousal lapped over both of you again and again, but the tide had gone out. The coast was cleared, leaving a sparkling landscape on which the both of you could relax.

Epilogue

The bath had been the perfect remedy for your bruised and abused body. It soothed Kisibe’s aching joints. He washed and rinsed the debris out of your hair, you cleaned the blood off of his hands and neck. His fingers worked over you, bringing you a slower, gentler climax. Back in the bed, clean and dry, you reciprocated his generosity. Sucking, kissing, swallowing everything he had given to you so brazenly before. Laying together in the dark, sleep was hard to find. Whenever you thought it would overtake you, bringing you back into an embrace to pleasure yourselves and each other. Eventually, morning came. Whether you had woken up to the sunlight, or you were too engaged to realize it had come up, was unclear. 

You left the hotel in the early afternoon, returning to the car which had a citation for exceeding the parking meter. Kishibe drove you back to your apartment, pulling up and parking outside. 

“Okay.” He turned to you, the light of day illuminating complexities that hadn’t yet been considered, “They won't be expecting us back until tomorrow, anyway. So you should try and get some sleep.” 

You nodded, “Yeah. Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime.” 

“I meant the car.” You teased. 

He chuckled. You didn’t want to get out, you weren’t ready to be done. Tomorrow would mean talking about what happened, reports had to be filed, incident reports, lab tests, possibly declaration of relationship forms. You gnawed on your lip. Kishibe watched you closely, seeing you weigh out each thought, waiting for the perfect way to phrase what you were after. 

You met his eyes, the devious flicker in your eye that he now knew the motivations of intimately shining at him once again,“You wanna come upstairs, take a nap and fool around a little?”

Kishibe sucked in a breath through a sly smile, his exhausted cock already jumping forward at the chance. 

“Absolutely I do.”

Thank you for reading!!! I hope you enjoyed, I really enjoyed writing this piece and I hope that comes through!! Fuck I want this man so bad. literally so bad. Let me know your thoughts, I always love hearing what you do/dont like. Anyway, thanks again! See you next time! - Doodle <3

[sugurizz]

𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑-𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏

(SMUT/NSFW +18 - Minors DNI)

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭: Kishibe x f!reader

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: As the main secretary of the tokyo public safety headquarters, you couldn't help but notice Kishibe. the strongest devil hunter of the 1st special division. and the man that soon had you crushing hard on him. 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: age gap (Kishibe is 50+, reader is in her 20s or older), kishibe smoking and drinking, degradation (slut etc), slight violence (slapping etc) , breast sucking, Dom/sub dynamics, Master/Daddy Kink.

𝐰𝐜: 1,2k.

He’s probabely in his 50’s…

you thought to yourself as he walked through the main portals of the public safety headquarters.

You’re undeniably hardworking, reliable and good at what you do. or at least good enough to be the head secretary of tokyo‘s public safety branch. Mrs. Makima herself was the one to recommend you to the superiors and then hire you as her personal secretary the in your early years at the institution, and you started progressively earning her trust and respect since.

most of your job consisted of taking care of paperwork, archive sorting and verifying most devil hunters‘ divisions reports, so you weren’t usually in a direct contact with the divisions‘ members. But that didn’t stop you from noticing the 6“4 frame that made appearance at several occasions over the two years of you working there.

You did hear the rumors about him being a ruthless maniac, a pussy pleaser and a enchanting seducer. But he managed to hide it well under his unphased expression and dark gaze. At least to those who didn’t know him.

„is makima at the office?“

a husky, yet warm voice snapped you out of your train of thoughts, as his intimidating silhouette made its way towards you.

„good evening, Mrs Makima left the building around half an hour ago. So I believe she’s done for the day.“

„tch“ He groaned, a slight frustration translated through his gestures. „charging me with all her crappy tasks .“

„I’m sorry for the inconvenience sir.“

„Master.“

You raised your eyes towards him, a little confused at first, looking for a slight explanation. But then it hit you.

„my bad. I apologize for the incovenience. Master.“

an unspoken yet heavy tension floated around as soon as the honorific left your your lips. And you hoped that the heat in your cheeks didn’t become obvious to the sight.

„ya ought to call it a day as well. It’s getting darker outside and there isn’t much protection around the area…“ he advised, flashing a silver flask out of his dark coat.

„thank you for your concern master, but I’ll have to finish all the reports by the end of today‘s shift.“ You said as you kept sorting the documents on the wall-sized bookshelf behind you.

He took a few gulps of what you assumed to be mostly alcohol,  as he seated himself on the armchair across from your office.

„you normal civilians take it as a joke. with that fragile body of yours, wouldn’t take a devil more than a minute to take ya down.“ He lighted a cigarette , eyeing the way your body moved before him.

„I myself would take you down in seconds…„ he added in an almost inaudible tone,  yet it managed to reach your ears. heart bumping out of nowhere, you quickly turned your back to him, trying to calm your sudden nervousness in the few instants that he couldn’t see your face.

The way he made a mess out of you with a few words, while wearing the most stoic of expressions on his face is insane.

„come to think of it. Aki told me that he left a report for me two days ago.did he hand it to you?„

 „y-yes he did. I’ll provide you with it in just a second.“ You stared at the shelves for a brief moment, trying to recall exactly where you placed it. „shit“ you scolded yourself. You placed it too high while you were trying to arrange last weeks‘ documents.

„great. now I’ll have to struggle to get it.„

Standing on your toes wasn’t exactly the most briliant idea you had. As you heard a light chuckle behind you, a few steps approached from you, before you got utterly towered over by him.  

Your heart sunk. His scent is intoxicating. the mix of a strong masculine cologne with the hint of alcohol and a distinguishable cigarette odor overwhelmed your senses.

„tiny.“ He whispered as his hand effortlessely landed on the folder.

You couldn’t move for a good minute. His dark eyes darted down at you in an almost pitiful look..

 „what are ya acting so flustered for?“

„nothing. it's  just that ... you’re a little … intimidating. Master.“

„is that so ?“ two fingers lifted your chin. His gaze dead focused on your lips.

„I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean it in a-„

„shut up“ he cut you off  „Your screws will pop if you don’t loosen ‘em a bit…“ his grip fully caged your cheeks. „give it a break.“

His face came closer to yours. His lips felt rough yet so delicious. You couldn’t possibly deny how addictive it was to make out with him. he had you caged between his strong arms, your tongue wrapping around his in the nastiest way. his bitter aroma of alcohol and smoke suddenly melted like an elixir down your throat. you felt like passing out as he whispered right in your ear

„take yer bra off...“

Your hands shaked of pure frustration while you undid your shirt‘s buttons. he wasn't even about to wait for it, plunging his face in the heat of your neck.

„oh master..“ you called for him in a loud sigh. His warm tongue licked over your earlobe before you felt the motion of his lips.

„ call me again.“ the hoarse tone in his voice struck right through your core. you felt so vulnerable as your bare chest was on display before his eyes.

His hand flashed behind your back in a quick gesture, undoing your bra. „oh god, hngh.." the tiny whines of embarassment emmited from you „ what if someone…“

He backed off a few inches from you, a little grin gracing the scar on his cheek „ they’ll see me sucking on your breasts. I don’t mind… “ he brushed it off nonchalantely as he slowly took the garment off your chest, eyes glued on your slightly pebbled nipples, „ ... and if they do, I’ll make sure to crush their skulls.“

You looked at him with doe eyes, only for him to tackle your breasts like a hungry beast. His loud groans and sloppy licks filled the room in obscene sounds, though it was heaven to your ears.

Your hand wandered through his trimmed lower haircut, caressing his neck and shifting to stroke his slightly bearded jawline.

„you’re such a damn pervert. Master.“

You couldn’t believe what you just iterated. You probabely never said this to anyone before. But it felt so good to say it right to his face.

It didn’t cost him more than a slap to put you back into your place though. You knew he tried his best to make it as harmless as he could. So that he wouldn’t accidentally break one of your bones.

„then why would a flower-like lady as yourself agree to have an old bastard take her ass right here, right now ?“

„I like you. Kishibe.“

A brief silence weighed around. You certainly wouldn’t expect any kind of obvious reaction nor emotion from the stone cold man that he was.

„you’re nothing but a young brat. Don’t get yourself into that love stuff.“

„I’m not a brat! you’re the old geezer!“

„you watch that little mouth or else I’ll teach you how to.“ He harshly gripped your jaw, pressing his large fingers on either sides of your face. His breath fanned over your nose, sending mini shivers down your spine.

„open, slut.“

He spat right on your lolled out tongue. and you knew you had to swallow all what he gave you, judging by the way his rough hand squeezed on your poor cheeks.

„I’ll break your little heart. I may die any day…“  

PART 2 - coming up.

[conniechiwal]

Black hair dudes with white dress shirts who can throw hands supremacy who's with me

[pepemoon]

I miss him

[realkishibebf]

kishibe is late but he wishes you guys happy holidays you know (don't repost my art )

[bobispapito]

Ummmm 🚨🚨🚨 a request from twitter

Pantless version available in twitter @bobispapito

[femondoetus]

[lchariott]

fem rohan........

[embrvx]

-HEAVEN'S DOOR-

Jojo x Mucha

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

Bloody (Kishibe x Reader)

MDNI, SMUT, 18+ ONLY

Kishibe comes over to hook up at a less than opportune time. Too bad he's a total freak and doesn't care about getting a little messy.

wc: 4k ao3 Masterlist

Warnings: BLOOD, PERIOD SEX, MENSTRUATION, cunnilingus, absolutely foul dirty talk, kissing, fingering, anal, getting really mystic when you're fucking (if you get it you get it), nipple play, a lot of discussion about consent. NASTY, SWEATY, DIRTY SMUT

“You think I’m put off by a little blood?” Kishibe clicks his tongue.

“It’s…weird? I don’t know?” You shifted under his gaze, your face heating up.

“We’re a bit past weird, don’t you think?” He inched closer, you leaned back trying to keep the space, “I’m covered in blood every day.”

“Not mine! And not…this, it’s different.” You whine again

“Exactly, I’ve had so much blood in my mouth and it's never been yours.” He was even closer now, pushing you against the back of the couch, hands not touching you, but lips and nose brushing along your neck making you shiver, “You think I can’t get my hands dirty?”

“Kishi—“

“Don’t you love to swallow my cum? My spit?” Finally his hands find your hips, sliding back to your ass and squeezing, “Or when I slide my tongue around your pretty asshole?”

You let out a small shaky moan, you couldn’t believe how nasty he was being. And he was usually filthy. 

“It’ll help the pain go away. It’s good for you.” He kisses right against the heartbeat in your neck making your eyes flutter.

“So you’re just tired of hearing me complain, huh?” You wrapped your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, you were folding already.

“Mmhm” he teased, “wanna give you something else to whine about.”

His hands circled your aching hips, the pressure and heat of them already alleviating the dull pain.

“Kishi—“ your lip caught between your teeth, the trepidation inching further over your desire to give in.

“Come on, baby. Let me.” He asks again, moving his hands up your side, bringing your body right against his.

You moan again, every nerve in your body reaching out for him. He had dropped his coat at the door, his tie was folded on the kitchen counter, his shirt was already wrinkled when he had put it on this morning, but now it was half undone and completely disheveled. His body was warm, you could see the flush of desire creeping along his shoulder and neck under the collar.

“You’re so sensitive like this.” He whispered, maybe just to himself, he cupped one of your heavy, sore breasts,“I bet you taste so good. Let me.”

You pushed your chest into his hand, feeling your head fall back in ecstasy already. 

You hadn’t even asked him over tonight, he just showed up and found you crumpled on the couch under a sea of blankets whining about how much your body hurt. 

“What the hell happened to you?” He asked, already taking off his coat and making his way to your liquor cabinet.

“I got hit by the menstruation devil.” You huffed, keeping your eyes on the flickering tv.

He chuckled, the bastard actually laughed, “oh you poor thing.” 

“What are you even doing here?” You rolled your eyes. 

“Suddenly I need an invitation?” he poured himself a glass from the wide, amber colored bottle, “What was it you said last night? ‘Cum inside. Cum inside Kishibe, please, cum inside.’”

He pitched his voice up to mock your whimpery fucked out tone and crossed over to the couch, taking a seat beside your blanketed form. His dark eyes scanned over the impression of your body nested in the covers. 

“There isn’t much I can do for you tonight, Kishi. If you’re just going to hang out here and drink the booze I paid for, then just pour yourself one to go.” You rolled your eyes, not sure what hurt worse your head or your lower stomach. 

“I like you better when you’re playing hostess.” He picked up your legs and dropped them in his lap. 

You groaned but turned over to lay on your back, the slight rise in your legs actually alleviating the pain in your uterus. You peek at him over the blanket covering your body, watching him sip on the drink he made with your liquor. He looked like he had a rough day, thank god his coat wasn’t in sight or you would be thinking about all the dust and debris and god knows what else that could be sinking into your couch cushions. He looked back over to you, surveying your flushed face, your knit together brows. A rare tenderness came over him. 

“You really feel shitty, huh?” He runs his hand up your leg, under the leg of your soft sweatpants. 

You nodded, “let's have an organ leak out of your body and see how you feel.” 

The asshole smiled again, “oh come on, Sugar. I’m trying to help.” 

You rolled your eyes as his hand smoothed further up your leg. If your body wasn’t so sensitive right now you would be kicking him out, but his hand on you felt so…sweet. Warm with the perfect amount of pressure, you wanted it higher, you wanted it pressing so deliciously on your aching, contracting womb. You thought back times where his hand had pressed right where you need him, right on your lower belly, pressing against himself deep inside of you, making your eyes roll back, making you squirt onto his pelvis as he fucked deeper into you. Fuck, the blankets were feeling too hot now. 

Reason took over, “No, you’re here to help yourself. I can’t fuck you right now, Kishibe.” 

“We don’t have to fuck. Just let me eat you out, it’ll help.” Your jaw fell open, you studied his face for any sign that he would break into laughter or swat at your thigh for even thinking he was being serious. 

But you found nothing, except for the burning glint in his eye full of hunger. 

“No!” You tried to pull your legs away, sitting up, but he caught your ankle as it left his lap and firmly, not painfully, kept it against his leg. 

“What? You love when I eat you out.” he gave a wicked smile, moving his thumb over the ball of your ankle. 

“But its…gross…I’m all bloody and I haven’t showered and---”

His throat gave a small groan, “I’m already sold, baby, you don’t have to convince me.”

“Kishibe---”

“You think I’m put off by a little blood?” He clicked his tongue. 

This was how he had brought you onto your back on the couch, him between your legs, hot, wet kisses moving over your neck. You couldn’t help it, you were anxious and put off by the idea, but you were so sensitive, so reactive, your body craved the release of being pleasured by him. And the idea that he would be disgusted, or that he was doing this begrudgingly was gone from your mind the moment you felt how hard he had become against your thigh. His blunt nails scratched from your hip to your knee, you shuddered and arched up for him. This allowed him space to move his arm under your waist and hold you closer to him, he loved you like this. Soft and pliant, reactive and aching for him.

“You know baby, If you hate it so much, I can make it go away for a little while. Few months at least.” He kissed up your jaw to the corner of your mouth. 

“As if,” you giggled, “No one wants a dad old enough to be their grandfather, it's far too confusing for a child. Especially when mommy’s not even close. What would the parent’s at the pick-up line say?”  

“You’re so considerate.” He teased, taking your mouth. 

He was an excellent kisser, had been since you first got together, well, likely before that, but you didn’t care to think about that much. His tongue was smart, mapping out your mouth, or retaining the memory of the layout. His kisses were overwhelming, they took your breath away, they brought you to that state of breathlessness where all you want to do is kiss him more, kiss him harder, explore him more, be taken over by him. He slid his hand up your body and under your t-shirt, taking one of your breasts in his palm, squeezing it firmly, making you gasp out. 

“Owww, Kishi be careful.” You whine, bottom lip between your teeth. 

He tuts, eyes looking over your desperate face, “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. You’re just…so sensitive…I can’t help myself when you make those pretty sounds for me.”

He squeezed again, just as hard, making you keen back. 

“My poor girl, it hurts, huh?” His voice is so thick, so coated in the dripping hunger to taste you at your most vulnerable. 

You nodded, giving him your softest doe eyes, hoping he would lighten up. Instead, he ducks his head down under your shirt and takes your peaked nipple into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue over it, listening to you huff out pathetic whimpers of pleasure, before taking it between his teeth. You cry out, hands on his shoulders trying to push him off of you. He doesn't budge, you knew he wouldn’t, but your reflexes tried anyway. His arm around your waist kept you firmly in place against his mouth, which he opened to lap gently over the peak he had just abused. He didn’t care about your whimpers and protests, his mind had been completely overtaken by the desire. Every part of your body was calling to him, he could feel the heat coming from your core, the waves of humid pleasure laced with the untasted  

“Has anyone had you like this?” The smoke of his voice danced over the wet spots on your neck, making goosebumps appear despite the heat surrounding you both. 

You shook your head, he thought he would lose it in his pants right then and there. Your mussed hair, your sloppy, spit covered lips parted in a gasp. His hips rolled against the couch, the friction so delicious against his burning erection. 

“Saved it for me, huh?” He moved down your body on the couch. 

“Already forgetting you walked in here and practically begged me?” Your cheeks burning made it harder to be smug, but you tried your best. 

His fingers found the waistband of your sweatpants, rolling them down and off your legs, leaving you in a less than sexy pair of underpants. 

“Kishibe, wait.” You gripped his shoulder, “It’ll get on the couch.”

He swiped up the drool collecting on his lower lip, his black eyes frenzied. 

“Bed? Or I can put a towel down?” He huffs out, his breath heavy. 

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea…” the embarrassment was getting the best of you, you started to sit up, until he pushed you back down. 

Looking over your body, only in a t-shirt and thin panties, he wouldn't let himself be denied. He was too close to his carnal desires. He wanted this for so long, not just with you, the idea had fascinated both his mind and his groin for as long as he could remember, the sensitivity, the taste, the primal call to him to devour his partner. And that was you now, so kind, so generous to him. You hadn’t denied him any whim of his, anything he had asked of you, you had catered to, you were so good to him. And he wanted this, your hesitancy stemmed from your own shame, not from lack of trust in him, so he was more than willing to push you beyond your limits. He stood from the couch, moving his arms under your knees and back to lift you into an easy bridal carry. Your hands wrapped around his neck, fighting to ignore the pain in your lower back, it felt nice to be carried by him, he was so strong and sturdy, he made you feel so cared for and tended to. Why shouldn’t you trust him to help you know? 

He carried you to your bed, dropping you somewhat unceremoniously into the mattress, moving to the en suite to retrieve a towel. He chose a light colored one, wanting to see the work as he made it, like a beautiful canvas waiting to be painted by his tongue and fingers. He spread it out flat under you, pulling you so that your hips were over the terrycloth. Your long, shapely legs exposed to him, knees bent, trying to keep them spread for him despite the nervousness flooding through your veins. Kishibe traced the back of his fingers from your ankle to your knee, his other hand opening his shirt and discarding it to the floor. His knees joined the garment at the edge of your bed, he pulled you closer to him on the towel. 

You sucked in a tight breath, this was far from the first time that he had eaten you out, in his own words it was his favorite meal, the one thing he craved at the end of long, tireless days of work. But usually you would both be in bed, you on your back with him laying between your legs, or him on his back with you sat on his face, riding that perfect nose under you soaked the pillowcase under him. Having him on his knees before you was new. He had never been so openly hungry for you, he had never begged you for something the way he had today. If you could even call that begging, it was about as close as Kishibe ever came. Being on his knees between your legs, looking right at your covered, dripping core waiting for you to tell him to begin. You weren’t sure if you’d ever get a chance like this again. 

You carded your fingers through his hair, watching his eyes flick up to yours. 

“You want to taste, baby?” You coo down to him. 

His eyebrows raised, amused, “mhm.”

“You walk in here, demanding to taste me, and you think you’ll just get what you want?”

He was growing tired of you trying to play dom, one hand pushed you down onto the bed, his long fingers splayed over your stomach, holding you down firmly. His other hand is pulling your sticky panties away from you. 

“I can have you however I want.” He groaned, the smell of your iron laced arousal hitting him, “You don’t deny me what's mine.” 

Your back arched against his hand, which held you so firmly in place. He tucked your soiled panties into his back pocket, a momento to honor his achievement. He parted your labia with his forefinger and thumb, taking in the sight of your messy folds. Soft gossamer strings of arousal parting and snapping as he opens you further. Your clit was twitching and swollen, soon he would kiss her better, make her feel cared for and tended to, but his eyes fell further to the woven white string peeking out from your hole. He wrapped it around his index finger and pulled, relishing in the small puff of air you exhale as he does. He tosses the tampon aside into the small trash can by your desk, not caring whether or not it makes it inside, too occupied with the sight before him. 

You were trembling on the bed, not wanting to look at him between your legs, you were past the point of no return. He released the hand on your stomach, using his thumbs to spread you open, watching your hole clench around nothing, small dribbles of blood and arousal slipping from you, down your vulva. He moved one thumb over your clitoris, circling it softly, looking up to see your chest rising and falling under your flimsy t-shirt, nipple poking through the thin fabric. 

“You’ve never let anyone taste you like this. See you so weak.” he marveled at how reactive you were, the slightest touch across your outer labia pushing more desperate fluid from your hole, the circles on your clit making you writhe on the bed, “She’s begging for me, baby. And you didn’t want me to help her. So unfair.” 

“Kishibe please.” you pant. 

“Oh now you want me to, after trying to make me beg for it, now you need my help.” He mocks, blowing a bit of cool air onto you that makes you clench even more. 

He slides his fingers up your slit, watching as the blood stains his fingertips, using the wetness to make his circles on your clit even smoother. 

“Please, Kishi, please, I’m sorry. Please help me feel better.” You whimpered, already feeling the anticipatory tears filling your eyes. 

Finally, finally he closes his eyes and leans forward running his long, flat tongue over your vulva, stimulating every part if only for a moment. You keen back on the bed, hands flying to his hair. You can’t believe he really did it, that you allowed him to, and how fucking incredible it felt. He was drunk, he had to be, the way his head became light, swimming and fuzzy. He laps again, tasting more of your bloody leaking cunt. He can’t help himself. He dives in further, tasting the rich iron, the sweet-salty wetness he was so familiar with, he had worn it in his mustache for days after your encounters, letting the smell waft in with his breath, not wanting to be parted from you. Sure, that probably made him a massive pervert, but he was a massive pervert. He had your panties in his back pocket and your blood in his mouth, lips closed over your pulsing begging clit. If this was the life that being a total freak allotted him, then great. 

His tongue pushed into your hole, your tight, swollen muscles quivered around it. He wanted more, he wanted to taste more of you, he didn’t want any of it to go to waste. Kishibe licked at the space between your holes, catching the stray blood that had tried to escape him. He couldn’t hear you moaning on the bed, he couldn't see the way your jaw was hung open permanently in a pathetic silent scream, he didn’t care. He needed more. He pushed two of his fingers inside of you, not caring to make it slow. He carried on, watching as your lubricant moved from a clear pink to a full dark red around him. He scissored his fingers open, watching the thin spread of cum and blood hold itself together until they couldn't anymore and it popped like a bubble. 

“Fuck, fuck baby you’re filthy.” He was mesmerized. 

“It's so good, Kishibe, please don’t stop. Fuck, please.” You panted above him, your voice finally breaking through the whirr of noise that filled his frenzied ears. 

He pumped his fingers harder, watching the blood trickle down the back of his hand, catching and coloring the wrinkles and divots, it was beautiful. It was creating its over vascular network over his own skin, your blood mapping out his own, separated by a thin layer of skin. He pulled his fingers from you, much to your dismay, and studied the way your blood had given him color, made his tan skin red. He watched as it dripped from him onto the towel, which had taken on quite a bit of your blood and cum. It was a splotchy mess, he wiped his fingers across the mess, leaving a streak behind. He mourned the loss of the crimson nectar he coveted so much, but the sight was just too much to be without. 

You pulled at his hair and his shoulder, once again he didn’t even budge. 

“Kishibe, please. Please, please, make me cum, please.” you begged, you needed him so bad, you needed his tongue, his fingers, his endurance, him. 

He was nothing if not thorough, so without further pressure he dove back in. Now completely consumed by the fever burning through him. He slurped and kissed, sucked and lapped at your bloody cunt. He hadn’t even touched himself yet, but a mess of his own was seeping through the fabric of his pants. He could feel the cooling precum against his thigh, against the shaft of his pulsing, aching cock, growing sticky against his skin, staining his work pants. He felt like he was eating you whole. Hell, you felt like he was eating you whole. You felt like when this was done you wouldn’t remain, nothing would be left of you. You would be taken in completely by him. And you wouldn’t mind it, you felt so connected to him, like an extension of him. His tongue inside of you felt so natural, it made you complete. It made you whole. His fingers inside of you, prodding at your most sensitive, swollen sex, made you see stars--no, you saw the cosmos. The whole galaxy had aligned perfectly to bring the bundle of stardust that now inhabited your body together with the stardust that now inhabited him. You didn’t believe in God, you had seen and experienced too much to believe in something so divine. But this had converted you into believing that something, something beyond human that was working to keep his mouth and body fused to yours in delicious stasis until the end of time. 

Your pontification had brought you to the point of releasing erratic spurts of squirt adding to the mess building underneath you, only the parts that weren’t caught by Kishibe’s desperate mouth. He was in the same cosmically induced haze that you were imagining the plants that would be formed by your one day decaying bodies, the animals that would feast on your botanical bodies and decay there themselves. He tasted the whole of time in your oozing, bloody cunt. He pumped his fingers faster, bringing them to his mouth and back into you over and over again. 

He couldn’t stop, not even when your thighs clamped over his ears. Not when your hips bucked up, his free hand shot forward, keeping you pinned to the bed, only able to writhe against his grip and take it. 

You cried out his first name in pleasure shaking the apartment walls, surely alerting your neighbors. Fat tears slipped from your eyes, you dug your nails into the forearm attached to the hand that held you down. He moaned against you, slurping down everything you gave him. Keeping his tongue and fingers moving through your climax, taking you back down piece by piece. You panted, the combined oversensitivity making you tremble and shake, trying desperately to push his head away. It wasn’t until you pulled him off by his hair did you find solace. But not for long, once his head wasn’t buried in between your legs, you could take in the effects of his work visually. The dark red blood on his lips, collecting in the corners of his mouth, dripping down his jaw and neck, speckling through the pinpricks of his stubble. Panting, blood wet mouth, dark eyes lidded and hungry. You sat up, with a shaking core, to marvel at the beautiful sight of him sullied before you. His skilled, exhausted tongue swiped at his lower lip, trying to catch as much as he could reach. Finally his eyes opened all the way, looking over the mess under your hips, the visible tremor in your stomach, the rise and fall of your chest. He rose from the edge of the bed, moving off his knees, and crawling to cover your body with his. Your eyes and his both scrambled to capture and memorize every inch of each other. He lens down to kiss you, but you cower away. 

“Kiss me.” His brow crinkles and his eyes narrow. 

“Kishibe…” Your brow crinkles right back, he grabs your face in his bloody hand, squeezing your cheeks and pressing your pouted lips to his. 

You cringed at the slimy feeling against your lips, the metallic taste coating his tongue and now filling your mouth. He kissed you hard, with the same intensity and passion he had used lower on you just moments ago. Eventually the shock of the cloying taste wore off and the decadence of the kiss took over, the sparkly feeling of being fated with him returned. Finally he released your mouth, giving you another quick kiss before moving off of you. 

“Cigarette?” You sat up on shaky hands. 

“Think I would get rid of the taste I worked so hard for?” Kishibe chuckled and rolled his eyes. 

You admired him for a moment, his strong body, stretching and moving. He finally leant over the bed and moved your legs off the towel. 

“I’m keeping this.” 

“You’re such a freak.” You roll onto your side, moving carefully to get off the bed before Kishibe stops you. 

“I’ll get you cleaned up, don’t move.” The look in his eyes was soft, and rare. 

He did clean you up, and when you got up to use the bathroom, he joined you to clean himself up. And once you were both clean he finally shed his pants and joined you in bed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close.  

“Don’t you want to…?” You questioned, running your hand down his torso toward his neglected cock. 

“What you haven’t had enough yet?” he kissed the side of your head. 

You smiled flirtatiously, rolling over to kiss him, “Never.”

I hope you enjoyed my wonderful friends!!!!! And i hope you don't think less of me for this lol. I hope this can get you through your period, like writing it helped me get through mine! May we all be blessed with our very own bloody munch. -- Doodle. XX

[zapper-awe]

Diu babies their dads and... Rohan.💥💥💥

Just for practice

[arbitriumart]

Riding the manic wave, I challenged myself this Sunday with drawing as many never-drawn-before jojo characters as possible in 24 hours.

Risotto, Kira, Holy, Rohan, Polnareff, Funny Valentine

I still have 3 hours left, but I am crashing under 4hrs of sleep. Excluding sleep and other activities, my drawing time today was around 14 hours. 6 semi-completed drawings under 14 hours really weren’t bad. I intended to draw Abbacchio or Avdol next after recharged🤲♥️

[vampyrebug-art]

1999 Bizarre Summer

[scarymonsters-andsupercreeps]

Rohan because I threatened to draw him earlier

[realkishibebf]

I was just missing my man so I did this little drawing of him calling me cute, yeah

[bananimid]

Diamond Is Unbreakable 💎 An illustration of my favorite jojo, Josuke!

I'm studying and taking some courses so I'll be a bit absent for a while, but I'll be back soon!!