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thekillingmoonmoon · 1 year

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guys my age

Pairing: Kishibe x Fem! Reader Warnings: NSFW, age gap (Kishibe is however old he is – 50? Reader is late twenties), smoking, alcohol, reader goes through a breakup but it’s not a bad one Length: 4k Song: Guys My Age – Hey Violet

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” you read your phone’s screen again and cussed, throwing yourself down on the hotel bed with a thump. “Trouble in paradise?” Kishibe looked over from the windowsill, the smoke swirling around his head in a sunlit halo. “More like, good riddance to bad rubbish,” you groaned, dropping your phone to the mattress beside you. “At least one of my problems has the good grace to sort itself out,” you grumbled, leaning back and pinching the bridge of your nose. “Which one of your problems was it? Rent? The boyfriend? Makima?” you peered at Kishibe from where you lay, squinting at him in confusion. Since when did he care?

“If it was Makima, I think we’d be in a very different position right now,” You answered, gesturing to the rundown hotel you were currently staying in. Kishibe scoffed out a chuckle and took a sip from his flask, offering it to you when you eyed the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he drank. You took the flask with thanks and threw it back, relishing the honeyed burn of the whiskey as it spilt down your supple throat. You missed how Kishibe watched you drink, how his dark eyes narrowed when a drop of liquor slipped past your lips and down your chin, trickling in its cinnamon sweetness down your silken neck. You cleared your throat.

“It’s the boyfriend,” you chuckled drily, “The trash took itself out this time.” Kishibe raised a brow. “Tsunada broke up with you?” once more, you squinted at Kishibe, wondering when he had ever bothered learning the name of the third division hunter you were dating for the last six months. Emphasis on “were”, as the man in question had just broken up with you for being ‘too serious’. “Yep,” You flopped back on the bed, a blood spatter of red and white on the navy sheets.

“You should wash,” Kishibe instructed, and you groaned, wanting to throw yourself on the bed and sleep for the next ten years. But Kishibe had drinking plans, and as his partner, it was expected that you join him. You rolled yourself upward and grabbed your bag from the end of the bed, leaving Kishibe to seat himself on the twin bed on the other side of the room. You threw his towel at him as you closed the bathroom door, muttering about ‘old men getting sick’ and you not wanting to play nursemaid if he got ill from leaving his hair wet. You barely heard his reply but knew it had something to do with what you’d look like in a nurse’s uniform. You flushed at the thought, and slapping your cheeks at your embarrassment, stepped into the shower. The room still smelled of him, of heady musk and light pine, of cinnamon cigarettes and expensive aftershave, and as you breathed him in, you realised how truly fucked you were.

You were in love with Kishibe. Undoubtedly, irrevocably in love. After three years as his rookie partner, you’d fallen into a neat rhythm with the older man, quickly becoming the most efficient pair of hunters in Public Safety. The rumours swirled in your wake, the young pup to charm the old war dog, the only partner to last through Kishibe’s rough training and still come out of it semi-sane on the other side. Not that you’d claim to be sane. Not after all the things you had seen. Not after falling for a man nearly twice your age and as emotionally unavailable as a stray black cat. Tsunada had been a distraction, as had the three guys before him. All young and bright-eyed boys whose reckless charm and careless caresses had only barely filled the aching gap in your heart, so empty of cynicism and bitter whiskey. You undid your hair, grimacing at the flicker of dried blood that fell from your tresses. You plunged in to wash your hair, scrubbing your skull so hard, hoping that you could scrub yourself clean of Kishibe.

Today had been another successful hunt, way out in the boondocks of some country town, where a Corruption Devil had settled in. It had taken you more than half a day to get to the town, but less than two hours to get rid of the devil, and now you were stuck halfway home, forced to stay the night in a hotel. It wasn’t the first time you had been forced to share a hotel room with Kishibe, but it was the first time neither had been so mortally wounded to require around-the-clock nursing. You wondered if the same easy silence that filled your sunlit hours would pervade the darkness as well. You hoped it would, and the warm uneasiness that had been building up in your lower stomach over the last year or so would disappear into the night, along with the sounds of Kishibe’s chainsaw snoring.

You shook your hair out, happy only once the water ran clean and stepped out of the shower. You needed a distraction. From your ex-boyfriend. From Kishibe. For whatever feelings you had for Kishibe. You rinsed yourself off and rummaged in your bag, pulling out a fresh white shirt. You thought to the night of drinking ahead and wondered if Kishibe would let you get some company for yourself this evening. You needed it. Needed the rush of playing cat-and-mouse, of fumbling hands in the dark, of losing yourself in someone else’s body for the first time in months. You left a few buttons undone, showing off a tasteful sliver of cleavage as you huffed and puffed back into your trousers. You did your hair and face, sure to put on a lipstick that screamed ‘fuck me,’ and stepped out of the bathroom.

Kishibe choked on his flask, hacking up what sounded like half a lung when he saw you exit the bathroom.

“What?” was all you said, raising your eyebrow as the man, “did you forget I was a woman?” Kishibe could only cough in response. You grabbed your jacket,

“Let’s go.”

…

You weren’t drunk enough for this. Not for this drivelling conversation and certainly not for the slimy pickup lines slithering from the hunter across the table. Kishibe was lost in a conversation, nodding and hemming along to whatever was being said by the senior hunters. You needed a smoke. You scrambled to your feet, meeting Kishibe’s eyes as he looked across at your movement. You motioned that you were going for a smoke and he nodded in understanding.

You broke free into the darkness, breathing in the heady scent of wet asphalt and city lights. You rounded a corner into an alley and fiddled around in your jacket pocket, retrieving a pack of cigarettes and a light. You flickered the flame to life, thinking of all the times you had lit Kishibe’s smokes, leaning in between gaps in the rain, sharing breaths in the muggy air. Smoke trickled from your mouth in a dark dragon of grey and blue, the clouds catching the reflection of the neon sign of the bar above your head.

“Hey baby,” came a dark coo, and you tilted your head to peer into the dark. “Kishibe?” you asked, despite knowing it wasn’t him. You would know his voice anywhere, that deep soft rasp that stirred your lower stomach into a fluttering of iron butterflies. “Aw, darling, you wound me. As if I would ever come close to that gross old bastard.” It was the hunter from before, the one whose pickup lines were worse than any of the drivel Tsunada had fed you. “I’m not interested,” you gave a polite smile and prepared to go back inside. “Really, because you were giving me bedroom eyes back there,” he approached you, coming closer and closer, tainting the air with the bitter tang of beer and old cigarettes “You made an incorrect assumption then,” you corrected him, straightening out and preparing to throw your cigarette out onto the damp concrete. A pity, you wanted to savour it. He crowded up to you, using his height against you, casting a shadow over your shorter form. You looked up at him, tilting your head and squinting. “Aw, don’t be so frigid, baby,” he leaned his hand above your head, effectively pinning you between the wall and his body. You sighed. You really didn’t want to start a fight, especially not with another hunter. “She isn’t being frigid, boy, she’s being polite,” oh, that smoke-saturated voice soothed you, getting you to drop your guard as you saw Kishibe flicker into view. “Get lost, punk,” he said, motioning for the guy to walk, and the idiot listened, suddenly aware that he was between the two toughest devil hunters in the agency. Kishibe came to stand beside you, cigarette already clenched between his teeth. You lit up for him, relishing the way he leaned in close, the scent of his aftershave rolling down your spine. He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall next to you.

“Did I ever tell you that you have shit taste in men?” he asked, and you snorted. “No, but I believe you,” you answered, shaking your head. “Why do you go for punks like him?” “I don’t know,” you huffed, “their boyish charm,” you lied. Kishibe tsked. "Clearly you need a real man,” he said, and you looked at him out of the corner of your eye. What was he playing at? You shrugged. “Unfortunately, those are hard to come by, unless you know any takers?” you jibed, a little gutsy, now that you weren’t looking Kishibe in the dark, depthless eyes. “I could name a few,” he grunted, and this time you properly turned and looked at him. He took a step toward you, moving closer than ever before, a mere breath away. He looked down at you, all rippling muscles and rugged scars. “And would your name be on that list?” You closed your eyes as you asked, hating to see the reaction in his eyes. You could feel him, almost sense his body around you, surrounding you. “Well, you’d never have to go out dressed like this again,” a single calloused finger traced the low fit of your shirt, almost brushing your breasts. “Or mess around with those boys again,” he rumbled, his finger trailing up your throat, where he gripped your chin.

“Tell me, princess,” he rumbled, “did that bastard even make you cum?” You were sure he could feel the blush radiating off your cheeks, but you bit your lower lip and shook your head. The noise that left Kishibe’s throat was dark and deep as it vibrated through you, sending shivers down your spine as he leaned down. He was just a whiskey’s breath away, all cinnamon and sinful musk, his dark eyes watching your face as he drew closer.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, and you threw all caution to the wind. You grabbed his tie and pulled him down, crashing your lips to his, tasting the bitter tang of beer on his lips. For a moment, Kishibe paused, his eyes wide open, before he was kissing you, driving you back into the wall, stealing every gasp of air from your desperate lips.

“Fuck,” he cursed as he pinned you to the cold bricks behind you, pressing his tongue past your teeth and flooding you with the taste of him. His hands seemed reluctant to touch you, so you grabbed them from the wall behind you and settled his hands on your waist and hips. His thick hands were eager, filling you with warmth as he gripped and groped at your flesh. His hips found yours, pressing you even deeper into the wall, his thigh coming in between your legs to push at the apex of your legs. You whine, feeling him rub his thigh over your needy cunt and his hips stutter against yours.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he gripped your hips, rocking them over his thigh, fucking you on his leg. You moan his name, and he groans, stopping and grabbing your hands as they explore his toned chest.

For a moment you think he wants to stop, that he’s rejecting you, and you feel like you could curl up and disappear, but he reads the bright fear in your eyes and leans in, pressing a single chaste kiss to your swollen lips.

“Relax doll, I’m only taking you somewhere else,” he rumbled, “somewhere no one can interrupt us.”

You blindly followed him through the dark, stumbling behind him as he makes the short trip back to your dingy hotel room. He held your hand the whole time, large and warm and engulfing yours in its calloused grip. Once in the elevator, he turned to you, dark eyes suddenly serious, despite the hunter’s light that shone deep in their murky depths.

“This is your last chance, sweetheart,” He stepped closer, crowding you into the corner of the lift, his trench coat shielding you from view, “Tell this dirty old man to stop.”

“Why would I?” you answered, grabbing at the lapels of his jacket, reaching up on your tiptoes to lay a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth, where his scar severed his face. He groaned at your featherlight touch, his hand coming up behind your head to meld your lips to his, holding you tight to his body, so that you could feel his muscles ripple against your tender touch. He only tore away when the elevator dinged your sudden arrival and then he was gone again, practically dragging you through the door and pressing you up against the cool wood, his mouth meeting yours once again. He pushed your jacket from your shoulders, gripping your upper arms tight as he laid a trail of sloppy kisses down your jaw. He sucked your skin into his mouth, nipping and suckling at the skin until he was sure he had left his mark on you. You shucked his jacket off as well, throwing the heavy canvas aside and fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. He was quick to do the same, exposing your tits to his hungry mouth as he cupped you beneath your bra.

“Fuck, look at these tits,” he cooed, squeezing and groping at the soft flesh, “So fucking beautiful, better than I ever imagined,” he groaned, biting and teasing your nipple through the fabric of your bra. He scraped his teeth up your chest, slithering his hands down the slope of your stomach until he reached the waistband of your pants. He made quick work of the belt and zipper, sending your pants to your knees as he teased your clit through the fabric. Your hips bucked, unused to any decent touch and you blushed, flushed hot by the sudden attention after being neglected for so long. Kishibe kissed you harshly again, biting your lower lip back with a pop before skimming down your body. He nipped at your stomach, lathing his love over your belly, pulling down your panties. He watched a thin string of your arousal cling to the fabric and he hummed, helping you step out of your clothes. He knelt before you, reverent in his worship, fumbling prayer from his scarred lips as he licked and sucked at the skin around your cunt. He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder and sunk his tongue into your cunt, his huge hands engulfing your hips to stop you from bucking onto his face. He licked a slow stripe up your pussy, finding your clit and swirling his tongue around it until you could feel your cunt clench around nothing.

“You’re gonna cum on my face, princess,” Kishibe told you, murmuring into your slick silken skin, “and then you’re gonna cum on my cock, yeah?”, he lapped at you before you could respond, pulling a low keen from your pouty lips before your voice broke into shattered pants. His tongue worked wonders, pressing the hot wet muscle up and into your pussy, effectively fucking you with his tongue. His one hand left your hips, trailing down your thigh and coming up below his chin. The first finger felt like heaven, pushing past your soft velvet walls into your pulsing pussy, reaching, searching until he found the spot that had you shuddering, hips shaking in his grip. He slowly pumped his finger inside you, pushing and pressing as you whined and moaned above him, his mouth never leaving your clit as he traced the kanji of his name over the bundle of nerves. The second finger had your knees buckling, his fingers thicker and heavier than your own, stretching your cunt out to take his cock. He kept sucking at your clit, sending shivers down your spine as he worked you toward climax. His third finger was a surprise, welcomed with a hushed gasp and whimper from your swollen lips as he pushed his knuckles past your puffy folds.

“That’s it, doll,” he encouraged, “take them all.” You could feel pressure pulsing in your lower stomach, sending strawberry starbursts up your spine. You felt dizzy, drowning in the sound of Kishibe lapping and slurping at your cunt. You could feel your climax build, and by the clench of your cunt, Kishibe knew you were close too. He renewed his pumping into your cunt and sucked hard on your clit, tossing you over the edge into a starstruck spiral of static pleasure. He groaned as you came, sucking and lapping up all that seeped from your pretty pussy.

“That’s my girl,” he rumbled, rising from a crouch and kissing you hard. He gripped your hips to his, holding you up against the wall as your knees shook. You tasted yourself on his tongue, moaning at the saccharine tartness as his tongue slipped into your mouth. He stepped back with you stumbling after, holding you upright and pushing you softly down onto the nearest mattress. You bounced on the springy softness, looking up at Kishibe with wide doe-eyes, already fucked out on the orgasm wrought by his tongue and fingers. You stared at him through dreamy eyes, sitting up and reaching for his belt buckle.

“Easy there, sweetheart,” Kishibe’s hands cover yours, “are you sure you want this?” he asked. You blinked up at him and grabbed his tie, tugging him further down to reach your eye level.

“I want you, Kishibe,” you soothed, “show me how a real man fucks.” He swore then, unhooking his belt and dropping his pants quickly as he crawled over you on the bed. You reached down to palm him through his boxers, revelling in the hissed breath that caught low in his throat as you gripped his thick length. He was big, thick and heavy in your hand as you slipped your fingers below his waistband. You smoothed your fingers over his velvet head, smearing pre down his shaft as you pumped him in your hands. He groaned, a restrained grunt spilling past clenched teeth as he moved your hands away and shifted his boxers down and away. You were now bare to each other, your glistening pussy to his twitching length, chest to chest, skin to skin. He leaned down to kiss you again, this time softly as he ran his cock through your soaked folds. You moaned as his cockhead hit your clit, feeling waves of static ripple down your spine. He pressed his cockhead at your entrance.

“You ready, princess?” he gravelled, and you nodded eagerly, your soft silken folds leaving trails of slick on his pulsing skin.

“Yes,” You panted, “please, Kishibe,” you huffed, the breath pushed from your lungs as he began to ease his cock into your cunt. You groaned at the tight strawberry stretch, sending sparks through your limbs. He filled you slowly, surely, stretching you out until you felt split by his heavy cock.

“Fuck, doll,” Kishibe paused, slinging your leg up onto his shoulder, “you’re so fucking tight, hah?” He pressed you into the mattress, leaning down and folding you in two as his cock sunk in to the hilt. You gasped, feeling him in the pit of your stomach, twitching in impatience. He paused for a brief moment, as the pair of you caught your breath, you reaching up to him to pull his head down for a kiss, all teeth and tongue and spit as he sucked on your lower lip. He moved languidly, rolling his hips back and out of your plush cunt, and back in with a muted hiss. He set a slow pace, making you feel every inch of him as he ebbed and flowed over your trembling body. His cock reached the deepest part of you, brushing up and over the points that had your eyes rolling back and jaw clenching. You muffled your whines with your hand, reaching up to bite your fist as Kishibe’s hips made contact with yours. He grabbed your wrists and held them above your head.

“Let me hear those noises, pretty girl, else I won’t be so gentle,” Kishibe warned, nipping the supple skin of your throat.

“I never asked you to be gentle,” you pouted and prompted a low groan to trickle from Kishibe’s throat.

“Why?” he snarled, “You want it rough, doll?” he asked, slamming his hips into you with a sudden rush. You scrambled, fingers white-knuckled as your fisted the sheets above your head, your back arching deep as he pressed the pressure point in your cunt.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, pressing your tits up into his chest. He gripped your hips, hard enough to leave a mark there come tomorrow, and pulled you onto his cock, stopping slightly before setting off at a brutal pace. The sounds of skin on skin surrounded you, wet and sticky and soaked with sweat as Kishibe pounded mercilessly into your pussy, a string of grunts and growls spilling from his lips to your chest. You mewled, releasing your wrists to sink your fingers deep into the muscles of his back, feeling the muscles shift and ripple beneath your clawing nails. You were sure you drew blood, but couldn’t tell as pressure bloomed deep inside your core, burning through your limbs with the fury of a forest fire. Kishibe could feel you clench around him, so soft and strong as his cock pumped into your plush pussy. He stopped, grabbing you by the back of your knees and pushing your legs to your chest. He pistoned into your cunt with speed, his one hand coming down to rub quick circles around your clit. You quickly drew close to climax, feeling each press of his cock deep in your cunt and every swipe of his thumb sending you closer and closer.

“I’m gonna – “ You panted, “I’m gonna cum!” you breathed, keening as the first shudders of your body shook you to your core.

“Then cum, sweetheart, cum for me,” he groaned in your ear, increasing pressure on your clit until you were shaking in the cage of his arms, limbs twitching and trembling as he fucked you through your high. His name was the only word to fall from your lips, slurred out slowly as he spilt himself deep into your cunt.

“Fuck,” he grunted, holding himself over you as his hips stilled against yours. You whined when he pulled out, already missing the warmth of his hale body as he withdrew from you. He stepped into the bathroom briefly, exiting only when he saw you shakily try to get off the bed. He tipped you back onto the mattress, a warm washcloth in hand.

“Don’t run away so fast,” he scolded, gently, rubbing at your battered thighs and leaking cunt.

“I’m not running,” you said and he looked at you. He crouched before you and reached up to cup your jaw.

“You can run, I won’t stop you. But know that I’ll be coming for you,” he kissed your cheek, “You’re mine now, princess.”

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I do not own Chainsaw Man, or any of the related characters. Chainsaw Man is created and owned by Tatsuki Fujimoto. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of Chainsaw Man belong to Tatsuki Fugimoto. Please do not copy, re-use, or distribute this work as your own

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