#chainsaw man kishibe x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr’s reach among the 26-to-35-year-olds in the US is 11%.

#chainsaw man kishibe x reader

violetarks · 3 months

Note

Kishibe x afab fiend?

can i get a kiss? and can you make it last forever?

anime: chainsaw man

character: kishibe

summary: unbeknownst to other devil hunters, kishibe was actually the first forced to house a fiend for work.

warnings: afab! reader, she/her pronouns, second person pov, reader is the theft devil, my first request in ages!!, but i dont really like how this turned out ;-;

the first one to find out about you, other than makima for obvious reasons, is kishibe's work partner.

"i just gotta' get something from inside before you go, 'kay?" kishibe says, looking to his work partner quanxi. the woman couldn't be more disinterested at the sight of kishibe's home. it was a simple apartment, on the third floor, with a 'welcome' mat and scratch marks on the key slot. when the door pushes open, kishibe clears his throat. "i'm home!"

quanxi raises a brow, wondering why he was announcing himself. as far as the office knew, he was a single man, and stayed so with the help of (or lack thereof from) quanxi. walking into the kitchen, kishibe puts his things down on the counter, heaving off his heavy overcoat. quanxi stands still beside him, analysing the room. it was well-kept, maybe a little mess here and there. but nothing too bad.

when she hears footsteps, she thinks 'daughter?', but then you round the corner, dressed in one of his hoodies and sleeping boxers. her eyes widen a little as you wipe yours, yawning.

"kishibe? why are you—..." you stop, staring at quanxi, and she the same to you. kishibe leans against the counter, knowing that you two were bound to meet at some point. "who's this?"

"y/n, this is quanxi, my work partner." kishibe says, crossing his arms over his chest, "quanxi, this is y/n, the theft devil."

in a split second, you and quanxi charge at each other, quanxi drawing her blades and you turning your hoodie into a sword by ripping it off your body. kishibe frowns, now knowing his hoodie was no longer his.

"leave this residence!" you shout, jabbing the handle of your sword into her stomach. quanxi blocks, gaining her footing. "don't ever return!"

"you've grown weak, since the last time i saw you." she replies, kicking your side and watching you tumble back a few paces. quanxi knocks you off your feet, getting on top of you and holding her blade to your throat whilst yours was pointed into her stomach.

"alright, stop that." kishibe huffs, clapping his hands. he rests one on quanxi's shoulder. "get off her."

"you're housing this fiend?" quanxi spits, staring down at you. you glare at her, opting to stick out your tongue and thrash a little around her. "does... makima know?"

"surrender your life and i'll make you into a pretty bow!" you scowl, kicking your legs beneath her. she tilts her head at your threats.

"you think i would willingly let the theft devil stay in my home?" kishibe mutters, tugging quanxi up. she brushes the dirt off her as you stand as well, trying to lunge at her when kishibe holds you back. "makima put her under my care a few months ago, since the last host we fought got away from us."

you frown, looking away and tossing your sword into the pile of clothes in the corner. "your partner is a hybrid, kishibe. i can smell the distasteful scent." you huff, tugging on his shirt that you wore, "you devil hunters are the strangest beings on earth, working with your enemies..."

"calm it, y/n." he says, standing in front of you. you roll your eyes, crossing your arms and turning away, marching to the balcony where you throw open the sliding door and lean against the railing. the wind blows the shirt gently and kishibe looks back at quanxi. "she's a bit possessive."

"the theft devil often is." quanxi responds, fixing her jacket, "it seems she's claimed you as hers."

"she's technically mine since she's living under my roof." kishibe defends, hands on his hips.

quanxi looks around the apartment. "it doesn't look like it." she grabs her blade, sheathing it, and walks to the exit. "i'm waiting in the car. do what you must."

as she leaves, shutting the door behind her, kishibe turns to you. you're still sulking, making it known by the way you cross your arms and glare at the buildings in front of you. kishibe walks in your direction, putting his weapons on the counter. he then stands behind you, hands bracing the railing to trap you between it and his chest. you lean further into the railing, almost squishing your ribs in a desperate plea to get away from him.

"you can't fight anyone i bring to this apartment, y/n." he tells you, making you frown.

"why are you bringing others to my home?" you counter, tugging on your collar, "i don't want anything that isn't mine to come here."

"alright, alright." kishibe says, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you into his chest. you squirm, trying to get out, when you feel his lips press a kiss to your neck. you stop moving, shivering at his touch. "i guess you just feel nervous meeting other people."

"hm." you grumble back, hands trapped against your chest as kishibe holds you. he leans back, leaning a chin on your shoulder. "i want her head."

"she won't let you have it." he tells you.

"i'll steal it myself. it's what i'm good for." you claim, remembering her scent. you can identify where she is, sitting in the backseat of the black car out front. you perk up a little, kishibe tilting his head. "she smells of other fiends."

"i never know what quanxi gets up to." kishibe responds, rubbing the back of his head. he pushes himself away from you, watching as you turn to face him. "i have a job to get to. i'll bring home some dinner, got it?"

"okay." you respond, holding his sleeve. he stops and stares at you. "come home soon."

"i will." he says, kissing your forehead, "as soon as possible."

"good." you mutter out, holding him in his place. kishibe lets out a small chuckle, watching as you purse your lips. he then dips towards you and connects lips, giving you the gentle treatment as you eagerly kissed him back.

it had only been a couple of months, but you had managed to gain feelings for kishibe. and with your nature as the theft devil, of course you'd become jealous when you saw something that wasn't yours. kishibe had assumed it was your power at work, but slowly began to warm up to your attitudes and eventually reciprocated them.

he didn't know whether makima had planned this to make sure he was always on the public safety division's side, as you were technically 'property' of makima and she could do whatever she pleased with you, or if makima had no idea of your feelings. but kishibe knew for sure that he wanted you all to himself as you wanted him.

the second group to meet you is a young himeno, who knocks on kishibe's apartment door in hopes of getting him to help her track down another fragment of the gun devil. but it's early in the morning and you're in the kitchen trying to make your own breakfast since kishibe came home late last night.

"he better answer... if he gets mad, he can argue with makima, she sent me here." himeno sighs, placing a hand on her hip. she begins to knock again. "kishibe! open up! c'mon, this won't take long!"

the door swings open and you chuck out your hand straight away, trying to grasp at himeno. your vision focuses on her, and you watch as she pulls away quickly, her widening her eyes and attempting to push your hand away.

you fail to make himeno one of your possessions, making you dodge her punch and step back into the apartment.

"a fiend? who the hell are you?" himeno mutters, fixing her collar. she steps forward with caution, not knowing if you were dangerous enough to call upon her contract. "i'm pretty sure this is kishibe's apartment."

"leave now." you say, backing up into the living room. your hands held up, ready to fight, tugging on the collar of your (kishibe's) shirt. "or i'll make you my own."

"oh?" himeno giggles, tilting her head at you, "that's sweet of you."

you rush forward, swiping your glass of water on the table and turning it into a clear dagger. you dash at her, ducking under himeno's punch to push her against the closed door, bringing an arm up to strike her in her shoulder. but himeno is quick to react, side-stepping and hooking her arm around your elbow and yanking you down to the ground.

the impact shakes the table beside you that holds kishibe's keys, rattling in the plate. as himeno readies another attack, you roll out of the way and kick her in her stomach, making her land against the door. you turn your dagger in your hand, reeling back and launching it towards her head. himeno, quick to think, ducks down to dodge. the dagger strikes the wooden door, half of it sticking through.

"it's too early for this..." himeno groans, tilting her head at you with a huff.

before you can charge again, kishibe enters in nothing but his sleeping shorts, covering his mouth with a yawn. "mornin', sweetheart. what's for breakfast?" he questions, walking directly to you and unknowingly ignoring the other woman.

"morning..." you drop your act, reaching out and grabbing his arm as he leans forward to land a kiss on your cheek. he wraps a loose arm around your shoulders, making you walk towards the kitchen where himeno stood, confused. "i was thinkin' we go out for lunch. as long as i can see you, it shouldn't be a problem."

"um... kishibe?" himeno says, blinking at the sight of her coworker and a stranger/fiend so close. "what is going on?"

the man almost looks annoyed, but he wipes his face and sighs loudly, "what are you doing here?"

"makima sent me to discuss the gun devil shard that has popped up around here." himeno speaks, watching as kishibe grabs some sweatpants from the folded laundry on the couch and puts them on, "she said you may have some intel."

"well i don't know jackshit about that, so you've wasted your time." he calls, opening the fridge and taking out two eggs. he saw your bowl of cereal on the counter and placed it in front of you with a spoon, watching you begin to eat with your eyes on the two strangers. "i see you've met y/n."

"that fiend?" himeno scoffs, crossing her arms as she watches you eat your breakfast. aki's eye twitched at how familiar you sat in the room of devil hunters. "how long has she been under your watch?"

"probably around half a year now. surprised nobody else has noticed, to be honest." kishibe says, watching as you sit in silence now, "you two should become friends."

"fuck off." himeno grunts, crossing her arms and shaking her head.

"no way!" you shout, slamming your half-empty bowl on the bench.

"fine." kishibe responds, shrugging his shoulders. he waits until you return to eating to speak to himeno. "you should get goin'."

"right..." she sighs, collecting herself, "you stay safe, kishibe."

"you too." he says, watching as she leaves the apartment. he then lets out a breath, ruffling your hair. "c'mon, y/n. you can't keep doin' that every time someone comes in, got it?"

"whatever!" you call, pushing his hand away, "stop bringing random people in here!"

your complaints are common, but kishibe can't help that. he only nods, like always, and kisses the side of your head.

"alright, sweetheart. i won't." he chuckles, sitting beside you.

he hears about the next time he goes into work. makima asks him to keep the secret of you quieter, even though she was the one who sent himeno to his place knowing full well you were there. he begrudgingly agrees.

he listens because he would rather die than lose you. there's no way he'd let you land in the hands of makima...

you stole his heart. and he knew you had no intention of giving it back or sharing.

#kishibe #kishibe x reader #chainsaw man #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man kishibe #chainsaw man kishibe x reader #csm #csm x reader

79 notes · View notes

underscar · 1 year

Note

If you'd be willing to then maybe do Himeno, Makima and Kishibe and how they'd care for their devil hunter s/o (gender neutral pronouns please) after they got injured after a particularly rough devil hunting assignment! :)

TAKING CARE OF DEVIL HUNTER S/O HCS

feats: himeno, kishibe & makima

warnings: no pronouns used

summary: in which they’re dating another devil hunter, and their s/o gets injured while on duty, and how they would care for them afterwards.

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST FORM

authors note: this request is right up my alley. thank you for the request, anon! this is actually my first time writing makima and himeno alone along with writing a head canon (it's been years) so please bare with me.

HIMENO

her dating another devil hunter is probably for the best.

— I can picture Himeno having many failed relationships just because she's a devil hunter. In the world of Chainsaw Man, the occupation is not exactly viewed in a positive light, so normally most civilians would like to avoid devil hunters or devil hunters hoping for a life outside of work would keep it a secret from others.

— Himeno, in my opinion, wouldn't attempt to keep this part of her life hidden and would be open about it.

— It doesn't really matter if you work in the same division or a different one then her; Himeno knows a lot of people in the industry and I can imagine her socializing outside of hers frequently, where she would eventually meets you :)

— I dunno, it just works with you being a devil hunter.

— She doesn't have to worry about you interrogating her extensively or being excessively concerned about her well being as an average person would.

— Simply because you are familiar with her situation. You've walked in her shoes and you don't judge her "recklessness" or "rashness", and that bare minimum means a lot to her.

— Himeno would also compare you a lot to Aki. Those qualities she loves in you, I think she probably also loved in Aki as well. In addition to the fact that you're a devil hunter, like Aki, I think she would just feel this way generally in a relationship. A rebound if you would. Someone like Aki.

— Although she would never express these thoughts out loud to you, you may notice this with time in your relationship and may cause future complication.

now you getting hurt on duty is a mix and mix.

— A while back, I actually wrote a one-shot about Himeno visiting an acquaintance in the hospital or something? I remember portraying her as being quite calm and casual when she entered the hospital. I think she would act similarly to this with her significant other.

— Hospitals are nothing Himeno is unfamiliar with, and neither should they be to you. Hospital visits are typical, common, and anticipated given the occupations you both have. Along with death always being a possibility.

— Hell, the possibility of dying of a Devil attack as a civilian alone is typical so deaths of devil hunter’s, who actively pursue these spawns from Hell, are even more common.

— When walking into your room she would be calm and no worry on her explicitly face. Serene cause you lived.

— She would torment you and make fun of you until your face flames. Though after her teasing and it's time for you to come home, she'll take care of you, tenderly. Doing your house chores, feeding you, and tending to your wounds.

— Himeno sort of views these times together as brief dates. Other than passing each other off at work or whatever, you don't spend much time together on actual dates. So, these days of sickness and recuperation are full of fluff.

KISHIBE

him dating a devil hunter is expected.

— I believe that only another devil hunter can really comprehend Kishibe, grasp his thoughts, and truly understand why he is the way he is and why he behaves in the manner in which he does, you know?

— So again, it's expected. If Kishibe is gonna be in a relationship its likely gonna be with another devil hunter.

— This relationships, though, would undoubtedly not develop overnight. It would take some time for you two, colleagues, to choose to part ways from your employment relationship. Maybe a few years as co-workers before taking that step. However in that time it gives more certainty to the both of you of your feelings for one another.

— You grow to learn his mind, and him, yours.

— With you both being devil hunters means you share a few outlooks and habits that civilians may find unusual. Kishibe also considers it's a good thing that you're a devil hunter since you don't nag him about it the way any of his exes did.

now you getting hurt on duty is, also, expected.

— It simply comes with the territory. You didn't die so...

— Both of you are aware of your mortality and the extremely high death rate in your professions. Furthermore, Kishibe is more cognizant of this part of the work. I kind of imagine him being in the game longer then you.

— The majority of the time, you get wounded, and he has to take care of you. Mostly due to Kishibe's stubbornness, which causes him to brush off injuries and not view them as anything that requires your help. Your injuries on the other hand? Yep, you need him to deal with that.

— He is virtually as knowledgeable about treating most of these injuries as a first responder, so that is also incredibly helpful in situations like this too.

— Kishibe uses all of the time he has for your recuperation even though he is sometimes too busy at work to devote his entire day to caring for your injuries.

— Throughout the day, he would call you while he's out to see how you're handing, to make sure you were eating properly, washing your wounds at the proper time, and generally healing without any problems.

— He might not stay with you during your ENTIRE recovery or make it to the hospital before it's time for you to go home, but he will be there that night to help you, and that will be more than enough for the vast majority.

MAKIMA

her dating a devil hunter is “controversial,” technically…

— She would technically be your superior, though. No matter what division you are in, she is practically still in a more advantageous position than you.

— You would think it would spark a controversy, yet nobody actually challenges it. Mostly because no one cared about the devil hunters workplace and because the profession itself is so crooked. Therefore, you dated with no issue.

— You and Makima would not hide the fact that you are in a relationship. In any case, she wouldn't tell you to not tell people about your relationship with her or anything.

— Tell everyone, she doesn't mind, be public about it.

— However, you know better then to be touchy in public.

— That's her only rule. That you can't touch her in public, especially at work or anything like that. She wouldn't want to be viewed in that way in her respected position at hand.

— And you respect her, so you know better then to not.

now you getting hurt on duty is anticipated.

— You aren’t in a position of power and strength like Makima, as I have mentioned before, so she merely anticipated that you would sustain injuries regularly.

— However, it's as if you hurt yourself at the worst times.

— It's always when she doesn't have a moment to spare for you when you need her the most. Makima is a busy woman and a career woman, so when you get injured, it irritates her a little and she makes her desire to persuade you to quit your work and remain at home, but doing so would cause further problems that she is more so unable to deal with.

— She won't be around much while you're recovering. As soon as she learns that you've been injured she may stop by later that day to examine how serious your injuries are and whether you're still alive, but as soon as she's done assessing the issue, she resumes working.

— In place of her visits, gifts and flowers with little notes inside would be given to you practically every day. It was difficult for you to be frustrated over her absence because the letters were so sincerely written and wished you well.

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

© UNDERSCAR 2023 - All rights are reserved to underscar. Do not repost, copy, change/modify, plagiarize, translate or screenshot my work: this will also include not reposting my writing on other social media platforms and writing platforms.

189 notes · View notes

rinrinx2 · 1 year

Note

Hello! I wanted to check if you still accept requests and if you do, I wanted to ask if you can write something about Kishibe from CSM and reader with the reader simping for him but thinking kishibe only has eyes for quanxi but in reality he let go of her a bit after she joined work. She makes nsfw videos and has only fans and he even follows her and confronts her one day at work, leading them to confess to one another. thanks in advance in case you ever write it

"Please say you think of me"

Kishibe x reader

Warnings: Mature themes, Inappropriate language, Adult themes, Semi -Smut, Sex work. Kind of begging Kishibe

Eye closed tightly as your legs remained spread as yours pussy leaked out onto the sheets beneath you.

Biting your lip so hard as you pushed your finger back and forth inside your clenching pussy, as you chased after your orgasm.

Fingers picking up in speed as you imagined them to be someone else's, imagine them to be - Kishibe's.

Picturing your fingers as the handsome man's, the image of him alone pushing you over the edge.

As clear liquid squirted out of you clamping pussy as you came hard.

As your fingers remained stuffing your pussy, with your lips parted gasping for air as you lipgloss shimmered in the camera lights.

The camera that had been filming your every action as you fucked yourself merciless to the thought of - Kishibe.

You quietly made your way through the office, keeping your head down as you sat down at your desk.

Keeping your mind occupied with the thoughts of all the paperwork you would have to do after coming back from your last mission.

So caught up in thoughts you hadn't heard the voice of another.

"(Y/N)" a voice called out to you, snapping you out of your thoughts, as you heard snapped in its direction.

"Morning Makima, sorry I focused on this demon profile from yesterday" you explained, trying to excuse your lack of acknowledging the other woman.

"No worries, I was just going to ask you if you could help Kishibe when you're done. He tends to fall behind on these sort of things"

"Yes of course" you replied, trying to maintain your composure at the name of the man who filled your fantasies night after night.

You watched until the other woman was a good distance from your desk, finally allowing the biggest smile to form on your lips.

You would be able to spend time with Kishibe after so many failed attempts, it would just be you and him in his office as you would help him and if you were lucky maybe he would place his hand on your thigh as you would explain the paper work to him.

The thoughts of spending time motivated you to finish your work early, as to spend as much time with the attractive male with the stitched scar on the side of his face.

Finally having finished your work you stood up from your desk, pulling your skirt down and trying to brush over your clothes in hopes to fix your appearance.

You began walking in the direction on Kishibe's office, taking deep breathes with each step, trying your best to calm your nerves.

You had finally reached his office door. Starring down at the doorknob before giving it a gentle twist but before you could fully open it another individual was already pulling on the other end, doing the same as you to open the door.

Without another thought you let go of the door knob allowing the other individual to leave Kishibe's office.

You watched as the door swung open with none other than the reasons for all your failed attempts of talking to Kishibe as none other than Quan Xi walked out of his office

With the calmest look in her eyes as she existed, barely acknowledging your existence, with her eyes barely moving an inch to see you standing beside the door.

You watched as she walked away confidently from his office not sparring a glance back at you, while you kept your head hung low.

And the thoughts began to resurface, the thoughts that kept you away from Kishibe at every attempt, the thoughts of how he probably liked Quan xi. As you always spotted the two of them together, no matter how much you were told that the two to of them argued and disliked each other by other colleagues, you had a feeling it was just a facade that lovers put on infront of others ... infront of you.

Slowly you made you way inside Kishibe's office, less enthusiastic than before.

"Afternoon (Y/N)" Kishibe said looking at your figure stand at the front of his desk.

"Afternoon Kishibe" you replied keeping your gaze to the ground, as the thoughts of Quan xi filled your heard.

"Had Makima sent you here to help me with my paperwork" Kishibe asked as he looked over to the stack of paper that sat at the corner of his desk and then back to you. He watched as you slightly raised your head in a nodding motion.

"Very well then, let us start"

You and Kishibe spent most of the afternoon going through his paperwork with little conversation in between, mostly just you asking questions about missions so that you could fill the paperwork out, as he would give straightforward replies.

The two of you continued in this manner until all you were done.

"I suppose that is the last of it" Kishibe said as he placed the last page onto a now organized stack of paper.

"Yes, it is" you said with a soft smile, trying your best to hide any feelings of sadness.

"Thank you" he said, as he watched you walk to his door.

Watching as your hips swayed back and forth, as your ass would rise and fall with each step.

"(Y/N)" Kishibe called out just before you exited his office.

"Yes" you said turning back looking at him with a look of curiosity painted on your features at his sudden actions.

Kishibe looked at you for a moment, letting a smirk fall onto his lips as you continued to stare at him in confusion before he finally spoke.

"How long are you going to avoid me"

Your force morphed from confusion to embarrassment at Kishibe's question. You could feel heat rise to your cheeks as your brain scrambled to find an answer.

"I - urhm" you said barely allowing any words to leave your lips.

Kishibe stood up from his desk walking over to you where you stood at his door.

You watched in awe as he came closer and closer till he was mere centimeter from your body, tilting his head down as he began to speak again.

"Is it because of Quan Xi?"

"You know her and I are not anything that you should deem a threat towards yourself" Kishibe said as he lowered his head to speak to you.

Your gaze remained down, as he spoke. You couldn't bare having your eyes looking into his.

Kishibe let out a chuckle at you being unable to even look up at him as he spoke to you.

"I wouldn't expect such a shy girl to have an onlyfans" Kishibe said with a snicker, finally causing your head to snap up, eyes now locked with his.

"Do I finally have your attention now, (Y/N)?" Kishibe asked as he moved a stray hair from your face tucking it behind your ear.

Your mind was racing with thoughts that Kishibe knew about your secret one that you meticulously kept far away from anyone and everyone one at the public safety devil hunters association.

Once again so lost in your thoughts you hadn't even felt the hand of Kishibe move to your lower waist, only when he finally grabbed you closer did you snap out of your thoughts.

"Do you think about me, when you touch yourself?" He asked as you felt his breath fan against your skin. You could feel the heat rising between your legs at the question.

"Hmm (Y/N) do you? Do you think about me while you're knuckles deep inside your pussy?" Kishibe asked as his other hand began to play with the hem of your skirt.

Your eyes quickly looking down, watching as Kishibe began to bunch up the material of your skirt.

Kishibe let out another chuckle, even though he was so close to you you were still unable to answer him, not even letting out a single word.

"I think about you" Kishibe said as his hand now moved under your skirt, hand resting at your upper thigh.

"I think about you while I fist my cock" he said moving his hand further up your thigh, until he placed it onto your clothed cunt causing you to gasp out at his sudden touch.

Kishibe began to massage your clothed cunt, noting how they were already damp and soft moans began to escape your lips.

"I imagine it's your pussy I'm facing into, that it's your pussy that clamping so hard down on me, milking the cum out of me" he said as he continued massaging your pussy.

"Kishibe" you moaned out finally talking again, as you grabbed at his biceps as you steadied yourself while you rode his hand as he played with your pussy.

"Yes (Y/N)" he said looking at you with innocence in his eyes.

Your clit was being rubbed back and forth, causing pleasure to tingle through your body as your pussy clenched down on nothing.

He watched as you road yourself against his hand, feeling the way your panties became damper and damper with each passing second.

"Please tell me you think of you, while you touch yourself. Please (Y/N)" Kishibe begged out as he began to massage your pussy faster, causing the knot in your tummy to get tighter and tighter.

"Say you touch yourself to me so I can fuck you"

"I do" you moaned out, and within the same moment Kishibe picked you up and moved you body against the door.

Quickly he pulled his cock out from his trousers and pulled your panties to the side, pushing into your warm tight cunt.

"Fuck you're pussy so perfect" Kishibe moaned out, as he kept his cock hitled deep inside your pussy.

Kishibe remained still allowing your pussy to suck him in as deep as possible until the feeling became to much and you needed to feel him move inside you, to finally know how his cock would feel like rubbing against the walls of your pussy.

"Kishibe fuck me, please fuck me" you groaned out with need.

Kishibe looked into your eyes as your words settled in his ears, biting his lip as he pulled his cock slightly out only to have it sink deep back inside you.

Kishibe kept this grueling pace of fucking you deep and hard, as the only sounds being heard in his office was that of yours and his moans as wells as the squelching of your pussy as he fucked into you.

"Your cock feels just like I imagined it" you said as you felt your pussy fluttered around his cock, sucking him in deeper with each thrust as your hole dripped down his shaft.

Kishibe felt his cum in his balls travel to his cockhead just aching to shoot into your warm wet pussy.

"Cum on my cock like you do in those videos" Kishibe said feeling as you were clamping down tighter than before.

Your orgasm was approaching fast and from the way Kishibe was fucking into you like an animal in heat you could tell he was close too.

"Please (Y/N) come on my cock. Please I need it. Give it to me please" Kishibe was once again begging out.

And suddenly your pussy spammed around his cock, as clear liquid squireted from your pussy all over his cock dripping down onto the carpeted floor.

The moment Kishibe felt your pussy begin to spasm hot ropes of cum shot out of his slit and painted your walls, over and over as you milked his cock till he was shooting blanks.

Kishibe placed his forehead against yours, as the two of you caught your breath. Carefully he pulled out as he unwrapped your legs from his waist as he slowly brought your body down.

You felt as his hands once again came down to your skirt pulling it down rather than up this time, as a small smile was now on his lips.

You looked at him, hand on the doorknob ready to leave again.

"Don't avoid me (Y/N)" he said causing you to giggle as you left.

Once your were on the other side of the door your slumped your back against it, letting out a sigh as a smile of happiness spread across your face at what had just occurred. You reveled in your happiness until your head a noise coming from the other end of the door.

From the other end of the door that you just been fucked against a once stoic Kishibe was celebrating.

"I can't believe I fucked (Y/N). Mahn I hope she speaks to me" he said, as a quiet laugh left your lips at his words.

2K notes · View notes

shaisuki · 8 months

Text

they're old but not that old. what is it when they're only a few years older than you but they still feel the years creeping up on them. they don't worry about that though when there's a soft, plump, young girl taking their cock like a champ.

"what's this?" he mused to himself while he watches you desperately matches the thrust of his hips. "can't get enough of this old man's cock? you're a young, pretty little thing but look at you..." chuckling to himself when you're pleading for him to bring you release. your sweet cunt clenching to him. "atta girl, impatient girls like you don't get to cum."

they like the tears gathering in your lashes when they deny you of release. it only spurs them more as you take their thick cock into your wet pussy.

"please...—make me cum" there's a hiccup followed by a sob as the tears starts to roll into your cheeks. rolling your hips to feel the veins in his cock to your spasming wall. desperate and confused why they won't let you cum. how could you understand what they're saying when your attention is how their cock stretched inside you and their bulbous tip is hitting your sensitive spot making you gush over their length.

“daddy, please” whining and begging to grant you of pleasure. “i'm a good girl, aren't i daddy? please make me cum. give me your babies”

that made their cock throb even more. twitches at how you beg to stuff you full of their cum. shit. they won't last long while you're so adorable in pleading.

“of course, baby. you're a good girl.” they praises you. holding your round cheeks in their huge palm while speeding up their thrusts. your body involuntarily jiggling and leaves you drooling in the corners of your mouth. too dumb and cock drunk to think anything than their cocks filling you up.

with a bruising kiss in your lips and a violent jerk of their hips. hot and creamy spurts of their cum fills you to the brim. painting your insides white and you're seeing white from the euphoria that you were given off. thick thighs trembling while their cum drips and runs to your inner thighs.

“geez, such a needy whore. i guess you need more of this cock, huh?”

“yes, daddy.”

TOJI, KISHIBE, ROMERO, KEISHIN, AIZAWA

#ᝰ.ᐟ shai's drabbles #chubby reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #anime smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro #csm kishibe #kishibe x reader #chainsaw man x reader #ukai keishin #keishin ukai x reader #haikyuu smut #csm smut #smut drabble

2K notes · View notes

seneon · 18 days

Text

"fuck your boyfriend, he a bitch." boyfriend referring to your 6 year old stinky plushie that you sleep with which hasn't been washed in months. probably even years. he's just jealous because your "male" plushie gets to be cuddled by you and not him. he calls your cute little plushie 'a bitch' because he absolutely despises the unalive creature. everytime he sees you holding the toy, he'd say "i think it's time you switch." switch what? switch the plush with him.

reo, dot, renji, otoya, denji, orter, grimmjow, ikkaku, kaldo, yoshida, wirth, kishibe, slursagi, rin, sae, additionally the uchiha + senju clan boys.

560 notes · View notes

tojjist · 4 months

Text

“with you?”

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

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

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

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

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

1K notes · View notes

mncxbe · 1 month

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭...

ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑𝒄𝒘: nsfw, age gap implied, subby men~ they cry a bit, overstimulation, wish that was me

Men who live for those few hours between work and sleep that they get to spend with you. Their job is awfully stressful– just problems after problems and incompetent underlings they need to deal with every day. There's too much responsibility, too much pressure and weight on their shoulders, but you're always there to take it away.

Men who don't even bother with pleasantries before loosening their tie and grumbling about how tiring work is. When they slump on the cushy mattress in your bedroom you're right beside them, helping them take off their clothes while you listen to them vent about their day. "Don't worry, dear, I got you" you reassure them in that soothing voice of yours and they can already feel their frustrations melting away.

Men who let you take the lead, willingly submitting to you because they're so tired of always having to be in charge and ordering people around. It's a nice change of pace– them laying limp between the crisp sheets while you rock your hips against theirs, their cock nestled deep inside your sweet cunt. In moments like these, they finally allow themselves to slip off the mask they're forced to wear every day and just be.

Men whose minds go blank when you praise them for their work. Just knowing that you appreciate and value what they do, that you acknowledge their worries makes the knot in the pit of their stomach thighten. It doesn't take long for them to grip your hips and squirm under your weight, their breath coming out quicker, shallower as gruff moans fall from their lips. When they cum their whole body tenses up, milky white seed spilling deep inside you. "You're so good for me tonight, darling. Think you can take more?" you ask and of course they can. They're good for you, always.

Men who lose all their composure after you coax a few more orgasms out of them. They can barely keep their gaze locked on yours from that sweet mixture of pleasure of pain making their head spin– it hurts, they feel like they can't physically take it anymore, but they don't have the heart to stop you. After all, this is their only escape from those straining jobs and duties and if relishing this sheer bliss meant being so vulnerable and completely at your mercy they'd gladly do it.

Men who don't bother to hide the pretty tears brimming at the corner of their eyes and choke on heavy sobs as you keep riding them. "Poor you..." you coo, brushing away the tears with your fingertips, your touch soft as silk against their rougher skin "You really needed this didn't you darling?" They nod eagerly, hissing sharply when you start bouncing on their cock again– they can feel each drag of your gummy walls against his cock and it's driving them crazy. Frankly, the fact that they're still hard after cumming so many times is a miracle, but you seem adamant to get another orgasm out of them. "Come on, you can do it just one more. Wanna make sure you really fill me up this time, ok?" you urge nonchalantly as if his lap wasn't already covered in sticky cum and slick.

Men who cry out praises and thank yous as they reach their high for the nth time that night, their back slightly arching off the bed before melting back into the mattress. They peer at you through droopy eyes, their grip on your thighs or waist loosening as you lay on their chest with their cock still sheathed inside you. Their heart flutters when you kiss their face oh so softly and lovingly, they feel so warm and welcomed in your embrace and swear they could fall asleep like this every night. But hey, they actually can and do, because you're always there for them, ready to soak them in your love.

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺: 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐢, 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐞, 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐊𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐚, 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚, 𝐅𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐳𝐚𝐰𝐚, 𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐨, 𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚 (𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠)

450 notes · View notes

daisynik7 · 5 months

Text

Cure for a Hangover

Pairing: Kishibe x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.9k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kenji: I’m not waiting for your ass

Kenji: I’m leaving, get them tomorrow

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I in heaven?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He huffs out a short laugh. “Morning.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#kishibe #kishibe x reader #kishibe csm #kishibe smut #kishibe chainsaw man #kishibe x you #csm kishibe #chainsaw man smut #csm smut #to all the boys who live next door #anthology series

770 notes · View notes

violetarks · 5 months

Text

spit on my grave, but kiss my mouth!

anime: chainsaw man

characters: hayakawa aki, kishibe, yoshida hirofumi, himeno

summary: they hate you, they can feel it in their bones, but at the first opportunity to kiss you? who wouldn't take that chance?

warnings: g/n! reader, they/them pronouns used, second person pov, some name-calling, somebody tries to lush to get y/n's number in yoshida's, kishibe is in his late 20s bc holy smokes he would outshine the whole cast if he is was younger in the anime no lie, kishibe is also a little flirty in this bc that's how he was when he was younger, smoking, drinking (y/n gets a little tipsy), reference to nsfw themes but its legit just the lines "you need an s/o bc you're so tense all the time" and "we didn't... did we?", y/n and kishibe go home together, also a bit suggestive in himeno's part

↣ hayakawa aki

if there was anything he hated more than anything, aki absolutely despised slackers. anyone who postponed their work til the last minute, and for the result to be the most sloppy piece of shit he has ever seen. which is why he didn't understand why makima would ever think of hiring someone like you as a devil hunter.

you stood there, your uniform messily put on — for god's sake, your tie was undone, just hanging around your neck! even power and denji dressed better than you. how could these devils do better than a devil hunter?

you sat atop makima's desk, getting the crumbs of your sandwich all over her furniture. aki visibly cringed. how could you be so careless?

it wasn't like you were unattractive, it's just the way you acted at work that made aki dislike you. and in front of your superior. truthfully, the only reason makima hired you was because of your amazing skill as a hunter without the use of contracts. if you weren't so useful...

when he first met you, aki would admit, he was intrigued. you were pretty, and makima had brought you in to interview you. you were splattered in devil's blood, and you looked serious.

yet the moment that you locked eyes with aki, your demeanour changed. you were suddenly so sloppy. he saw the way you held out your bloodied hand to shake his, how you lazily threw your dirty coat on the couch. he knew from then on, that your looks were a waste, perhaps.

"are you finished, y/n?" makima asked, walking into her office in her trench coat. aki was called there for a morning briefing, so imagine his disappointment when he saw you instead. you nodded your head, hopping off the desk and sweeping the mess you made into the nearby bin. "good. now, you two are teaming up for your next mission."

aki wanted to refuse, so badly. he watched as you tugged on your loose collar, shirt not even tucked in, and stood beside him. he listened to makima outline the upcoming mission, and also listened to how often you yawned or shifted in your spot. you seemed so unintetrsted.

aki's never been on a mission with you, but he's seen the mess you leave behind, more than he would've left. and he's seen you guiltlessly nap in the car while everyone else cleaned up your leftovers.

you were careless when you fought, as seen when you dodge under the attack of a devil and trip over debris on the floor. aki slides in with his unpowered sword, slicing the mutated arm away and shielding you from another attack.

"get up, dumbass!" he calls, looking over his shoulder to see you brushing off dust from your lap.

"relax, geez. i'm up, i'm up." you scoff back, picking up your weapon again. aki wanted to slap some sense into you. "i'm so tired, let's get this done."

the fight continued on until it was at what seemed to be the climax. you were both beaten down, the devil on the brink of giving up. but you gripped your weapon tighter, rushing towards the enemy with determination. you were growing tired of this fight, both mentally and physically. you were imagining yourself at home, in front of the tv with some food in your hands. anywhere but here.

"aki?" you call, looking around the scene. you couldn't find him, and it was worrying you. "aki!"

you were met with silence, making you scowl and continue on trying to defeat the devil. maybe by then, you'll be able to find him and bring him back to makima for help. god, you hated dead weight.

with a few attacks landing on the devil, aki finally stands from his position beneath debris. he had been hit into a wall, making the ceiling fall over him. when he had made himself visible. you glance at him, relieved.

"y/n..." he heaves, drawing his sword. he was bleeding from his shoulders and you could count the tears and cuts in his uniform. and he blamed you for being dirty...

before you can speak, the devil immediately charges towards him. you widen your eyes, racing after it. "aki!"

he breathes in heavily, trying to gather his focus. but his vision is just so blurry that he can't think properly. the blood he's lost has already made him hazy, all he can hear is the loud footsteps of the devil. his joints click and falter as he tries to take his normal fighting stance. he's weak and you can see it.

with all your might, you rush towards him. you couldn't let him die, not someone as strong and admirable as him. while you knew he disliked you (aki definitely wasn't the most subtle), you couldn't deny his worth as a hunter, and as a person. you looked up to him.

aki doesn't know what is happening until he sees you jump high in the air and thrust your weapon to pierce through the devil's skin, knocking it off course. as it skids to the side, you tumble to the ground, rolling on the ground and getting dirt and blood all over you. aki blinks, clueless.

"are you alright, aki?" you huff out, tired. he slowly hums in confirmation. you send him a smile, which makes him gulp. "that's a relief."

the devil turns back to him though, not stopping on its tracks to get to aki. by this time, you're in front of your co-worker, holding your weapon to prepare yourself. with a deep breath, you wait for the devil to come closer before dealing the final blow, ending the devil's life.

once the devil falls lifeless, you let out a loud whine, "agh, finally! ah, i'm so beat!" you fall to the floor, knees giving out beneath you. aki watches you stay on the ground, wiping the sweat off from your brow. with a click of his tongue, he falls to the ground as well. you turn to look at him, blinking. "ah, aki. that devil really fucked you up, huh?"

you laugh makes him even more weak. you move closer to him, taking his chin and turning his head to see his bruises. "we should get you back to the office. i'll patch you up before denji and power see you, alright? they'd piss themselves seein' you like this." you joke, patting his shoulder. your carefree attitude was so irritable...but he couldn't deny that your words made him feel lighter.

so when he pushes forward and presses his lips to yours, he knows why his heart pulses harder when he's around you. he likes you. his palm rests on your neck to hold you in place, making you lean your hands on both sides of his waist to balance yourself. aki squeezes his eyes shut, as if to keep himself from seeing your shocked face.

you were speechless, frozen. but once you settled in, you kissed him back. you tasted like blood — maybe that was his own since he cut his lip — but neither of you seemed to mind. his harsh hand against the back of your head suddenly goes soft, trailing down to brush your cheek.

he sighed against your lips, upturned brows. he felt like he needed this. he needed you.

aki was mysterious with his true feelings, but this was the first glimpse into them. you let out a small sigh as you pull away.

"you—..." you mumble out, covering your mouth as you sit up straight. his hand leaves your cheek, now gripping the debris beneath him. he felt so embarrased. "idiot aki. c'mon, let's get outta' here first."

you heave aki over your shoulder, his arm over while yours is wrapped around his middle. he was also speechless, blushing so red that he kept his head down so you couldn't see. his heart was beating faster at your touch. but to kiss you? he was truly crazy, wasn't he?

↣ kishibe

"can you smoke somewhere else?" you scoff, bringing your glass to your lips. the rest of the room was filled with slight chatter, the sound if cups being clinked together.

"you see any spare seats at this bar?" kishibe asks, putting his lighter away into his pocket. the bar allowed smoking, one of the only bars in the neighbourhood that still did. he watched you roll your eyes and finish your drink, asking the bartender for another. "you're so uptight, ya'know?"

"you're the most annoying person i've ever been paired up with." you groan, watching your glass get refilled. you take your glass once more and glare at kishibe. "those things kill you."

"you drink." he says, putting down his own cold alcoholic beverage. you click your tongue at him. "you act like you're so much better than me."

"you smoke and drink, you smug asshole." you grunt, feeling a little woozy from the past hour of non-stop drinking you and kishibe have been partaking in.

this was his idea, saying that you needed to wind down. you enjoyed a few drinks every now and then, but today had been particularly hard on you. makima was really ripping into after a devil got away, making you go after them again with your partner present this time. you felt embarrassed at your loss. as much as you were strong, kishibe hated how weak you were.

there was no denying that you were somewhat talented, so why weren't you getting stronger? kishibe was already tired from his own work, but when he was paired with you, his job got even harder. you were lazy with your work, leaving hints of your weaknesses everywhere you stepped. and you wondered why. kishibe couldn't handle how much if a rule-follower you were when your strength wasn't anything impressive. sometimes he'd with you'd abandon your work and finally leave all this stuff behind. such an attractive person like you shouldn't be burning their brain trying to work as a devil hunter.

"why don't you just drink and shut up?" kishibe huffs, keeping his cigarette between his fingers. he blew the smoke into the air above you, making you cover your nose and scowl at him. you hated smoking, all the reason why you disliked being partnered up with him. he wasn't kishibe without his smokes. "you're do tense all the time, you need a girlfriend or boyfriend or something. maybe you'll relax a lil'."

"and you're telling me to shut up." you groan, waving the smoke away. kishibe rolls his eyes leaning his elbows into the counter. "you know what, kishibe? i've seriously had enough of—of your attitude."

he watches you down glass after glass; it was kicking in, the alcohol. he was wondering how long it would take before you started slurring your words. it was subtle, but kishibe has never seen you like this, not yet at least. it would be a fun way to tease you tomorrow morning when you come in to work. you glare at him, blinking a few times. he waited impatiently for you to collect your words.

"ever since i met you, you've been a pain in my ass, always runnin' your pretty mouth and rolling your pretty eyes at me." you complain, continuing to drown yourself in the sweet drinks you were taking. kishibe sighs to himself, already knowing that you'll be too drunk to pay your own bill. he pulls out his wallet to start counting bills as you go on to 'insult' him. he'd have to be careful now, he was starting to feel the alcohol too. "if you weren't so strong, i'd kick your ass myself!"

"oh yeah?" he says, deciding on when to stop you from ordering. he calls down the bartender for a few more glasses for you and himself. "you're too weak to pull somethin' like that, sweetheart. can't even hold your own against a low rank devil. need someone strong to protect you, huh?"

"what? says who?" you say, voice raising a little. he hated it when you did that, it was so annoying. you were so childish for someone only a year younger than him. "i was doing perfectly fine without you! makima needed me to babysit you..."

"what are you even goin' on about?" he huffs, taking in some smoke, "do you even know what i'm saying? are you that drunk?"

while you were a little tipsy, you definitely weren't drunk. you were just slurring your words a little, but you were conscious. you weren't saying anything you wouldn't say sober. you knew what you were doing, and how you were acting.

"'course not, shithead. i'm not getting drunk in front of you." you tell him, gulping down another drink. he thinks that maybe your tolerance is moderately high. "i'm just sayin', you're never gonna' get married if you're like that. you're lucky i tolerate you, somebody has to."

he raises a brow at that, then taking one last huff of his cigarette before putting it out in the ash tray provided. "so you're saying i'll only get married if my romantic partner tolerates me?"

"duh." you scoff, tilting your head at him. was he getting drunk? it was also your heightened confidence that he found annoying.

"and you're the only one who tolerates me?" kishibe presses.

"yeah." you answer so quickly that you don't even think. once you realise what you've said, you put your glass down. your face was burning now, and you didn't know whether it was because of the drinks or him. he chuckles. "shut up..."

"mhm." he hums out, now leaning close to you. your shoulders nearly press against each other. he sees no sign of you moving away, but you begin to stare at him, unable to figure out which eye to look at. "you wanna' kiss me?"

you let out a small sigh, glancing down at his lips for a second. but you harden your stare in his eyes.

"or are you asking me to kiss you?" he offers. your eyes widen a little at that, and it seems he has his answer already. but you were so cute like this, he just had to tease you. "but i've been smoking. it'll taste like it, y'know?"

"just let me find out." you mumble, placing a hand on the side of his stool, against his thigh, "kiss me once?"

"well, shit." he chuckles out, now resting a hand on your cheek. you blink at him, feeling comfortable against his palm. "you've got a little crush on me."

you furrow your brows and mumble out, "s—so?"

"ain't that cute?" he says, brushing his thumb against your cheek, "you're not gonna' slap me if i kiss you, are ya'?"

"only if you keep on wasting time." you huff, fist against the bar top. you would never ask him something like this out of the blue. but the atmosphere around you both... it felt suitable. a small smile dawns on his lips at your eagerness.

"fine." he sighs out, leaning forward and finally connecting lips with yours. you hold your breath, not really expecting him to do it. your hand on the stool tightens its grip as he slides his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. your lips were so soft, and warm. he can tell that you haven't kissed many people, but that doesn't matter. he never thought he'd be kissing you either.

he had been smoking for the past hour, so he did taste like smoke. while you hated the taste, now, it was sort of masked by the drinks you were both having. and you just couldn't get it out of your head that you were kissing kishibe. the man you kinda' hated.

the kiss didn't last as long as either of you would've wanted, but it's a public place and you only asked for a sample. when he pulls away, you open your eyes to see his smug smile that always makes you irritated. but this time, you're just plain embarrassed. he begins to laugh at you softly, making you click your tongue and push his face away.

"d—don't talk about it." you say, standing up and grabbing your coat. you pay for your drinks with a tip and avoid eye contact with your partner. he downs the rest of his drink and puts his own money down. you begin to walk to the exit before kishibe reaches out and holds your wrist. you glare back at him. "what?"

"can't let you go home all by yourself." he says, standing up and shrugging his trench coat on. you squint at him. "and you don't wanna' let lil' ol' me walk home alone either, do you? let's take a cab to yours."

"seriously?" you mumble under your breath, walking to the exit with him behind you. "fine... you can sleep on the couch."

"aw, such a pity."

↣ yoshida hirofumi

"yoshida, may i speak with you for a moment?" the teacher asks after the bell rings, making everyone in the class turn to their classmate. a playful 'ooh' rang around the room to tease him, making yoshida roll his eyes with a smile. the rest of the class begins to tidy their things up until the teacher speaks up again. "class president, please wait outside for a few minutes.

you look up from your desk, blinking at your teacher. but you nod your head. "yes, ma'am." you respond, fixing your uniform and taking your bag, heading outside with your friends.

yoshida can't help but roll his eyes at the way you walk out of the classroom, all preppy and gracious. you don't even look at him, as if he was scum compared to you. the two of you weren't friends and that was clear enough. you were the class president and needed to keep everyone in order. the rest of the class had liked you and you were friends with other classes too. but the only one who didn't like you was yoshida hirofumi.

you told him that the school didn't allow all those piercings and that the standard were the studs. but he came back the next day with another piercing, showing it off with a diamond earring that he wore once for the purpose of pissing you off. you reprimanded him, disliking his laidback attitude and how he didn't take school seriously. what a waste of a student. you knew plenty of people who would do way better in his position. someone like you knew this and hated that he didn't.

yoshida hated how uptight you were and how you were such a stickler for the rules. he knows that he's not a good student, but why were you always on his ass for it? there were other people in the class — hell, there were tons of other people in the school that you could've been paying attention to, but you chose him. he hated it so much.

"to cut it short, yoshida, your grades have been dropping severely." the teacher had said, making the student snap back into reality. he stands up straight again, nodding his head. "i've decided to allocate you a tutor for all of your classes. you and—"

"don't say l/n."

"... l/n will be meeting on your own terms to study. they're an excellent student and have tutored many of your classmates, yoshida, there is no need to worry." the teacher continued, handing him a stack of papers. he holds them, heaving them under his arms. "practice exams, practice essay, practice tests. you will go through all of these with l/n."

"seriously?" yoshida huffs out, rubbing the back of his neck, "for how long?"

"until your grades are better." the teacher explains, sitting down to grade their quiz from today, "i understand that the two of you aren't close, but make-do for now. you need to rely on them."

"i understand." he sighs, taking the work and leaving the classroom. he sees you standing next to the door, bag on your shoulder as you read a book. he wants to cringe at the cliché scene. "hey. you're tutoring me."

"i know." you respond, tucking your book into your bag and starting on your way, "we're heading to the city library."

"wait, what? you knew?" he says, falling into step beside you. you nod your head. he knits his brows at you as you exit the school. "great. now i gotta' spend months with you."

"just get your grades up and you're fine." you respond, looking to the sky for some patience. he was already getting annoying. "trust me, even a delinquent like you can pass the next exam."

"you talk a lotta' shit for a goody-two-shoes." he huffs, swinging his bag recklessly around. the two of you board a train towards the city and you take the papers from yoshida, flicking through them and making notes of what to teach him. he watches you from his spot beside you. "even your handwriting is blinding. why is it so... neat?"

"you mean readable?" you scoff, looking at him with an aggravated expression. why did he talk so much? "i'm doing this for you."

"why did you even agree to this if we don't like each other?" he asks you, watching the roof of the strangely empty train. you look back to the work, sorting them into sections. "you have a secret crush on me or something?"

"what? no, idiot." you scoff, shaking your head, "i just don't want you to fall behind. it'd be a shame for everyone else to graduate without you." he looks back to you, a surprised look on his face. but you look away, outside. "don't look too much into it, yoshida. just trying to keep the class average up."

"yeah, whatever..." he mumbles, going back to hating you. any sliver of you being genuinely nice was now gone. he just listened to the way the train rolled across the tracks. he listened to you scribble down your notes.

he had watched countless people confess to you. just yesterday, a girl handed you a bouquet of flowers — your favourite ones, apparently — and confessed to you that she had feeling for you for a year. but you rejected her, apologising and saying that you did not return her feelings. it felt somewhat cold, yoshida was watching from around the corner. luckily you didn't notice him, you probably would've told him off for not doing his class duties.

he never understood the appeal to you. why did so many people want you?

a few minutes kater, you were in the library, setting up your things in a private study area. you gave him some work to try out and pulled out your own things to do. he sighs, taking out his pencil case to write on the paper, "put on some music or something."

"this is a library, yoshida." you retort, rolling your eyes, "just do your work and show me when you're done."

"jesus, i can't believe people actually like you." he groans, leaning back in his chair. you blink at his insult. "i don't understand why everyone flocks around you and throw themselves in your direction."

"i'm the class president, people come to me for advice all the time. maybe if you showed up to class more than one a week you'd notice." you huff out, glaring at him, "people like me because i'm good help."

"singing your own praises?" he snickers, flipping through the booklet. he hated how confident you were in yourself when he really saw you as overbearing. even the way you sat there, writing with your perfect handwriting. "i can't deal with you, president."

"i couldn't tell." you sigh, standing up. he watches your movements. "i'm going to grab you a book go borrow for the next week. it has all you need to know on the book we studied this semester. i don't have enough time to explain everything to you before the exams since it's in a few months. but that book will help."

"yay..." he mumbles out, moving onto the next set of questions. he waited for you to come back with your stupid book, but enough time had passed that it was suspicious. he even finished the booklet that you gave him, and that took him a while. he looks around the library, seeing few people walking about. "where are they go? don't tell me they abandoned me here..."

he stands up, positive your stuff would stay safe, and begins to look through the aisles. he doesn't see you yet, and he's getting pissed out. you made him come here, and you just ditched? that's so 'un-presidently' of you.

but he hears your voice in the next aisle, sounding pissed off. like always, when you spoke to him.

"thank you for showing me where the book is, but i should get going." you say, yoshida standing at the other end of the aisle, out of your sight. he could see the boom you were holding and your stupid hair, but you were blocked off by someone else. "please leave me alone."

"aw, what? i help you find your book and this is the thank i get?" the taller person says, hand against the bookshelf to keep you from walking off. you roll your eyes at them. "c'mon, just your number, that's all i ask for."

"it's your job to help people in the library find their books. you work here." you explain, tucking the book under your arm, "i don't owe you anything other than a 'thank you'."

"well i take my 'thank you's in dates." they respond. yoshida sighs, clenching his fists and walking towards the both of you. "what's somebody gotta' do to land one with you—"

"leave 'em alone, asshole." yoshida scoffs, tugging the worker back and standing in between the both of you. you widen your eyes at him before looking away, a bit ashamed to need his help. but yoshida is glaring at the librarian. "they're not interested."

"shit man, i'm sorry, i didn't know they—"

"yeah whatever. get outta here." yoshida scoffs, rolling his eyes. the worker only looks his up and down before walking off, muttering under their breath. once they're gone, yoshida looms to you. "you good?"

"yeah..." you mumble out, rubbing your forehead, "people like that give me a headache.

"mhm." he huns out, seeing how you lean against the bookcase. you stared down st the analytical text in your hands. you were so embarrassed that he had to come in and save you. some like him, protecting you...

you look back up and see his smug face, and you just know that he's aware of how you're feeling.

"who would've guessed it? i had to come to the class president's aid." yoshida chimes, leaning a hand against the bolted down bookshelf. you scowl at him, closing your eyes. "i guess you owe me one now, huh?"

"and once again, you're an ass..." you retort. your little scrunched up face makes yoshida smile. genuinely. he scans your appearance before tilting his head at you.

"what is it that makes people fawn over you so much?" he questions, looking confused. you open your eyes to see him standing closer. "i mean, sure, you're cute, but that's about it, no? your stubbornness ruins it all. as soon as you open your mouth, i wanna burst my ear drums."

"whatever, yoshida. i don't care what you have to say." you mumble back at him.

"see? so mean." he chuckles, take another step closer. you notice but don't say anything, to which he notices as well. out of all the people who have liked you, he's surely standing the closest. you haven't pushed him away, which is strange. you'd usually be out in a second. but you stand your ground. he smiles at you. "how could anyone find that attractive?"

you look to the side for a split second, only for yoshida to come unbearably closer. you can feel his breath on your cheek and his shoulder is against yours. his other hand stays in his pocket while the other braces himself. you hold your own breath.

"maybe people only like your pretty face." he says, not missing a beat as his hand slides down to hold the shelf beside your torso. his wrist slightly grazes your body. you shiver for a second, standing up straighter. yoshida pays attention. "you think so, y/n?"

"no, i—i don't." you stammer. yoshida is surprised when he feels you grasp his shirt, making him lean back jut enough to see your expression. you could barely hold your glare. so cute. "i'm... i'm a good person, so that's why—"

"that's the first thing people notice when they look at you. your looks." he claims, making your face burn hot. but yoshida just smiles at you. "you sayin' i'm wrong?"

you scoff at him, "why are you so close anyway...?" he raises his brows at you, eyes flicking to your lips for more than a second. you realise what he's looking at before you speak again. "yoshida...?"

"you don't seem to mind..." he trails off, "you can always push me away if i get too close..."

you don't say anything as he gets closer and closer until suddenly, he's kissing you. yoshida's hand stays at the shelf to hold himself up, but his other one gently holds your hand against his chest. you're kissing back before you can even think, your other hand still holding onto the book.

he tastes a bit savoury, probably because of the hot lunch he had before. but the drink he had on the table where you two were studying, is sweet. the mixture entices you as you as you are the one to deepen the kiss, pushing forward and catching yoshida by surprise.

you let out a small squeak; it was obvious you weren't experienced. with how seriously you took school, how could you be? yoshida didn't have his fair share of partners either but, he was so gentle with you.

when he pulls away, he opens his eyes to see your dazed look towards him. you gulp once you regain your sense of thought, then leaning back.

"i'm sorry, i—"

"i guess you're not a terrible kisser." he interrupts you, standing up straight and keeping his hands to himself. you feel somewhat relieved, but you nudge yoshida in the stomach due to embarrassment. "hey, stop. maybe that's why people like you."

"i don't go around kissing everyone, shit for brains." you claim, shoving the book into his chest. he stands back with an 'oof', watching you walk out of the aisle.

"so it's just me?" he chuckles, jogging to catch up with you. you glare at him. "how lucky."

↣ himeno

himeno didn't understand why aki spoke so highly of you. her friend, whose opinion was usually right, explained that you were a tremendous hunter and that you were highly respected. so why are you in her apartment, in your shirt and underwear, and eating out of her fridge?

"morning." you say, seeing the groggy himeno coming out of her room. she blinks cluelessly at you. "you hungry? i made breakfast."

"the hell are you doing here?" she grunts, walking closer to you in a hoodie and sweatpants. you look back at her, sorting the breakfast into two bowls. "and why are you using my food?"

"huh? you don't remember? you invited me over last night after drinks." you explain, taking out two spoons and shoving one into the food before pushing the bowl to himeno. "you're wearing my sweater, by the way."

"i was wonder when i bought this." she murmurs to herself. but she then shakes her head, sitting down at the counter and thinking to herself why would she ever invite the person she loathed the most to stay at hers? "we didn't... did we?"

"no, himeno. you were black out drunk, y'know." you say in an obvious tone. she clicks her tongue and eats her food. you begin to eat as well. "did you take the medicine and drink the water i left on your bedside table?"

why were you acting so nice? she gripped her spoon tighter, stopping her movements as she swallows her food. "yes. you didn't have to do that." she thinks she would've preferred if you didn't. now she feels obligated to return the favour.

"it's nothing. i didn't want you to wake up so hungover again." you retort, looking to the ceiling.

she scans you and wonders how you could be so indecent in front of her when you were 'well-respected'. your underwear was showing, you weren't wearing any pants, your shirt was crinkled and loose hanging, your hair was a mess and you just look tired overall. this was not the pristine presentation he was used to.

you catch her staring. "sorry, do you want me to put on my pants? i couldn't find em around here." you admit, looking at the messy floor. himeno feels a little embarrassed at the mess but doesn't keep her eyes off you.

"no, it's fine." she retorts, feeling her eye patch before running her fingers through her hair, "don't you have a mission or something?"

you think for a second before putting down the bowl. "yeah, i think. later, makima wants me to check something out with her." you tell her, watching her roll her eyes, "what's wrong?"

"you in love with her too?" she scoffs.

"no?" you say, tilting your head, "she's my boss."

"oh." you'd be the first she'd hear doesn't like her. she sits up straight on her stool. "really?"

"yeah, really." you say as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, making himeno stop. you continue to eat your food. "i don't date superiors."

"right..." she mumbles back, confused. but you accidentally drop your spoon on the floor, making you curse quietly. she's never heard you swear, and she stares at you.

you lick your thumb, a little bit of sauce on it, before you turn to her with wide eyes. "ah, sorry, himeno. paper towels?"

she points to the cupboard and finishes her food, watching you clean up your mess. you're not really clumsy, she knows, so seeing you drop something was strange. you were usually moving so perfectly...

"you always like this?" she hums out, chin in her hand.

you put the towels in the bin and take your empty bowls (hers as well) and clean them. "i'm sorry, i live alone. so no one really sees me mess up." you admit.

himeno hates your voice. you don't speak much, but when you do, she's rolling her eyes. what you have to say is usually so inspiring to the other hunters, but she finds them cheesy. kobeni was brought to happy tears by what you said to her before a mission, which made himeno stop everyone and wait for kobeni to stop crying.

you're so high and mighty. everyone loves you and you try to be so mysterious. she never understood why everyone liked you, why everyone tolerated you when you don't do anything. maybe you're strong, stronger than aki and kishibe, but you were just praised so much that she hated you.

but seeing you now, all over the dishes and struggling to clean the things you used, it makes you feel more human to her. she watches you from the counter, hearing you curse to yourself as the dishwashing soap falls from your hand and into the soapy water. you turn to her to see if she saw. she did. you embarrassed yourself, and you sheepishly look away. she smiles. and stops as soon as she realises she is.

you were like some high school kid watching themselves around their crush. the way you glanced at her told her all she needed to know.

"i'm gonna go and change." she says, standing up from her stool and moving to her bedroom. she doesn't wait for your reply, but she heard a faint 'okay' from her room.

she didn't understand the change. admittedly, last night was the only time she's seen you outside of work hours, where no devils were there to stop you from being just you. you were sitting quietly, listening to everyone speak. you didn't know what to say.

after you finish the dishes, you try to clean up around the living room and kitchen. there were blankets and pillows all on the floor, maybe she was having a party or something. but you pick them up, fold them, put them in their place. and you finally find your pants, sliding them on happily.

you look for your belt under the couch when you hear someone clear their throat. looking up, you see himeno standing in her work attire with her arms crossed.

"hey, i'm looking for something, sorry." you say, standing up. she hands you your hoodie, which you plan on putting over your work shirt and tie. you just needed to find your belt and you would be set. "i'll be ready soon—oof!"

you fall onto the couch, on your back, as himeno moves forward and clambers over you. she gives you a pointed look as you stare up at her, feeling your face heating up. you gulp, one hand bracing the cushion of the couch, and the other hanging off the side. she's loosely straddling one of your thighs, hovering above you as her hand still on the sides of your head.

"h—himeno—"

"do you have a crush on me?" she interrupts you, tilting her head.

"what? that would be unprofessional, i—i couldn't..." you begin, losing your voice as you feel how close she is to you. your heart speeds up. "i'm sorry..."

"i knew it..." she huffs, leaning to the side a little. she scans your face, how your eyes stay on her. "you're terrible at hiding it."

"i'm sorry." you say, gulping. she was leaning closer, and you were getting nervous. "please don't hate me for it. we're partners."

"i bet you wish we were more." she jokes, gently grasping your chin so you look her dead in the eyes. you look like a poor deer in headlights. "i already hate you. everyone talks about how cool and how strong you are. and you suck it all in, go along with it. makes you feel better, doesn't it?"

"what?" you whisper out, blinking innocently.

"i hate people like you." she says, enjoying how you helplessly stared at her. you looked so hopeless — hopelessly in love with her. without a word more, she leans down and softly connects her lips with yours.

you hold your breath, keeping still as she kisses you. it was so out of the blue — didn't she say she hated you? you carefully move your free hand to the back of her neck, squeezing your eyes shut and missing her back eagerly.

her hand drops from your chin, dragging down to stop at your waist, holding you from there. your breathing hitches, and you pull away slightly to gasp. she catches your lips again, setting herself down to straddle you properly. she continues to kiss you as you sit up slightly, elbows bent to hold your weight.

you felt hot in the face, you knew you were embarrassing yourself by being such a klutz. but as her lips leave yours, you almost chase. himeno was an enchantress. you loved her smell, the sound of her voice, the way she walked. and here she was, saying how much she hated you.

"i—i thought you didn't like me." you huff out, sitting up straight to be face to face with himeno. your lidded eyes and dazed expression made her hold her breath for a moment. but, as if you've gathered your confidence, you begin to lean in again. "do... you not wan—"

"don't you have to meet up with makima?" she says, placing a hand on your chest and shoving you back to lay down again with a huff. she hops off your, moving to grab her shoes. "c'mon, before you're late and your amazing reputation is ruined."

you take a moment to gather yourself. your hair was even more messed up, and you stared at the roof with a heavy heart. it was beating fast, making you take in a deep breath and sit up, fixing your outfit and hair. you look behind you, seeing your belt underneath the pillow. after standing up and putting it on, you see himeno waiting for you.

she was leaning against the wall, watching you scramble to put your shoes on. she herself was wondering why she had kissed you too. you were always good-looking, but the way you acted pissed her off. did your prettiness really cloud her judgement.

she looks down to you sitting on the floor, struggling to tie your shoelaces. she chuckles.

no, she just met the real you today.

#hayakawa aki #hayakawa aki x reader #aki #aki x reader #kishibe #kishibe x reader #yoshida hirofumi #yoshida hirofumi x reader #yoshida #yoshida x reader #himeno #himeno x reader #chainsaw man #chainsaw man x reader #csm #csm x reader

504 notes · View notes

ryndicate · 1 year

Text

Seal It With a Kiss ⨳ Kishibe

"You want me to do this for you? Then tell me exactly what it is that you want."

notes: I came up with this idea for @akiniku back in like september when i was just beginning to sniff around the csm fandom for a favorite. Dom told me all about him and i fell in love and came up with this plot and *then* I read csm lol. 6+ months later, here we are T-T thanks to @cyancherub for reading through his characterization for me and for my past and future beta readers<3 (i know some of you havent gotten the chance i was just too excited) Idon’t know if i will ever be able to put as much love into a Kishibe fic ever again so lets try to appreciate this

warnings: female reader, longer than a drabble, alcohol, virginity loss + inexperienced reader, creampie, emotional manipulation, coercion but there's consent, age gap (like 30 years between them, fight me), trainee/mentor relationship, twisted savior complex, canonverse, piss (more about control than it is the kink)

Rules/BYF/DNI

Kishibe sighs. “That’s it for today.”

“Already?” You puff, sweat dripping down your temples, your blade lowering until the tip is pointing to the ground. “I could keep going.”

He sighs again, resisting the urge to rub the approaching headache from his temple. Kishibe will never understand the PSDH’s insistence of sending him all of their potentials. Their screening is usually decent enough to keep this type of student from beneath his weathered wings, but every now and then one will slip through. One like you. Earnest, hopeful, and far too willing to do the job. This ain’t the place for you, never will be. They set you loose on the streets and you’ll be some Devil’s next meal.

But it’s not his place to care. Not supposed to be at least. Makima won’t even tell him which Devils you have contracts with—but again, he doesn't care.

Kishibe ignores your mumbled complaints about cutting your training short, sighing under his breath. “Gonna need’a drink after this.”

He’s unprepared for you to pop up at his side, tilting your head as you ask if you can come with him.

“Why?”

The question seems to put you off. “Isn’t it good manners to take your juniors out after a hard day?”

Kishibe huffs at your coy tone, certain you’re just after a free meal. “That’s for juniors who’ve proven they earned it.”

That seems to put you off even more. “You don’t think I’ve earned it?”

“No.” His answer is short, clipped. Dark eyes watch intently as you deflate a little, that perpetually cheerful expression drooping into something he ultimately decides is an unsettling expression on a face like yours. He doesn’t care for it, unable to decide why.

“How’s this?” He grunts, pulling a cigarette from his pack and lighting up. “I’ll give ya a week.”

“A week for what? You're not supposed to smoke inside, you know.” A sulky tone meets Kishibe’s ears, your eyes tracking his lips and the flare of the cherry as he inhales.

He ignores the snipe. “You get close enough to me to take one of these away—” a twitch of his fingers has flaky ash fluttering to the linoleum, “—and I’ll take you out for drinks. That’s how you earn it.”

The sparkle is back in your eyes in an instant. Your sword tips back into its sheath, coming up on his left to give him a smile. "You got it, sir! You'll never smoke again. Just watch."

Kishibe rolls a shoulder, suppressing a groan at your chipper attitude. I'm getting too old for this shit. "We'll see about that, sweetheart."

He's ignorant to the way the words make you pause, moving for the door, ready to get in his car and drive to his regular dive bar. He needs the silence of the drive before he drowns himself for the night. Well, not so much silence as the rattling heating unit, the rush of passing cars, and music so quiet one might question why it’s even on. It’s simply the beginning step of the ritual he’s come to find most comforting, or numbing, on this job.

"See you tomorrow, sir?"

“Yeah.” He doesn’t even bother glancing back as the door closes behind him.

The autumn air clears his head a little as he finally escapes the hallways of the office. A cold breeze whips at his hair, bringing old scars and memories to mind as it bites at his skin. Kishibe takes a final drag of his cigarette and lets it fall to the pavement. He doesn’t stub it out, pulling out the collar of his jacket to fight the chill as he disappears into the evening crowd.

“That is not how this works.”

“There’s no way this doesn’t count!”

“Give them back.”

“I said you’d never smoke again, didn’t I? I didn’t think you of all people would want me to go back on my word.”

Kishibe takes a careful inhale through his nose, closing his eyes for a beat and convincing himself he won’t kill any of his trainees. He’s sent you to infirmiry more times than he cares to count with these training sessions, to bring home the apparently wavering point on your young dumb invicibility complex, but he knows where the line is. So when he opens them, Kishibe fixes you with the same intent stare that usually gets his subordinates to straighten up, or clingy women out of his apartment. Dark, unimpressed, unwavering.

You are painfully undeterred.

“I had to get close enough to take them from you. That’s what you said.” You stand in front of him, at a regrettably smart distance, looking mighty proud of yourself as you clutch the worn white box carefully in your fist. After five straight days of utter and total defeat, you’d made your move on the car ride over this morning instead.

“I said one, not the pack,” Kishibe drawls. “And you know damn well that ain’t the point here. Nickin' them from the car is not the same.”

You shrug, a familiar petulance beginning to saturate your tone. “Not my fault you weren’t paying attention. You said that kills people.”

Unprepared for the—still a smartass answer but—wisdom of your words, some of the intensity dissolves from his eyes. As if he really needed that reminder. He still has his doubts.

“No arguing that,” Kishibe sighs, scratching his neck. “Guess you get what you wanted. Drinks on me tonight.”

A triumphant smile brightens your face, but it doesn’t last. The barest moment later you find yourself flat on your back on the training facility’s floor, groaning at the impact.

Kishibe flicks his lighter, sparking his cigarette and taking a grateful inhale of sweet nicotine as he stands over you, impassive.

“But I’m still gonna make you earn it, sweetheart. Getting overconfident and lettin’ down your guard also kills people. Get up and block me next time.”

“Yes, sir."

He might have been harsher on you today than entirely warranted as he watches you wince and shift, trying to get comfortable in the weathered booth of his usual bar. But really, to go any easier on you would do you a disservice if you really are this hellbent on working in public safety. Part of Kishibe is hoping one training session—and soon—he’ll find your limit and you’ll realize you aren’t making the cut. At the very least he’d like you to settle for the civilian sector. Hell, Kishibe despises paperwork but he'd write your damn recommendation.

You’re peering around the dimly lit space. It's hazy with smoke, with a scent to match. He probably could have taken you somewhere nicer, but he really didn’t want to stray too far from his own comfort zone, so what the hell. This was your own idea anyways.

“Are you even old enough to be in here?” Kishibe asks suddenly, catching the eye of the bartender and tipping his head.

“I came of age a couple months ago.”

Kishibe cringes inwardly at your prideful tone. Fucking great. He eyes you as the bartender begins to edge out from behind the counter, watching as you glance around a little frantically for a menu. Shoddy place like this doesn’t really have one.

Kishibe gestures between the two of you before the man has to cross the bar completely. “My usual. Double for me.”

"What's your usual?" You ask curiously.

"Whiskey. Nothing fancy, just cheap and strong."

"Oh."

The glasses are placed in front of you and you give what Kishibe sees as an awkward smile at the bartender as your fingers wrap around the glass. He takes a grateful gulp, unable to help but notice you haven't made a move with your own.

"Not to your taste?"

"I don't know," you answer plainly, tilting the short glass and letting the amber liquid catch the light. "Never had it."

"Never had whiskey?" Kishibe hums, bored, taking another drink. The double is going fast. The familiar warmth has already settled in his chest, an old comfort.

"Never had alcohol."

Sucker punched with that information, Kishibe pauses and swallows the last of his glass before setting it down and signaling for a refill. He's far too practised to waste a drop of a drink he's paying for.

"Why are we here?" It's a shrewd question, a shrewd tone. "If you've never had alcohol, why were you so insistent on going out for drinks? Isn't that something you do with your friends?"

Your fingers tighten on the glass, a small pout forming on your lips. "Didn’t wanna do this with friends. Wanted my first drink to be with you, s-sir." Embarrassment coats your features as your words stumble off at the end, and you return to examining your still untouched drink.

Kishibe's refill arrives, another heaven sent double. He's getting the faint inkling that something else is happening here and he's far too tired to pick the answers out of you.

"Lemme get this straight," he drawls, leaning forward and jabbing a finger at you over the rim of his glass before bringing it to his lips. "You wanted your first drink out with a tired old man instead of your friends?"

"You're not tired!"

Your tone is scandalized, pitch rising high enough that it catches the attention of some other men seated nearby. The last thing he needs.

Kishibe scoffs, scar twitching as he fights a sardonic smirk. "Beg to differ sweetheart."

"You're not, you…you're—" your volume is back to normal, seemingly struggling with your words, and it's amusing if not slightly endearing.

"Lemme know when you think of something, I'll be here," Kishibe mumbles, drinking again, content to watch you squirm. "You gonna take that first drink? You got me here, like you wanted. Might as well."

That small smirk finally fights its way onto his lips as you give him the barest of glares. He usually doesn't see that look on you until you've gone an entire session without landing a single hit. It's cute.

"You're you. Don't gotta 'splain myself to you," you grumble, timidly lifting the glass to your lips.

"No, you don't," Kishibe rumbles in agreement, watching as you take your first swallow.

To your merit you don't splutter or cough, but a grimace splinters across your expression as you swallow and stare down at the glass in mild disbelief.

"This sucks," you announce firmly.

Kishibe barks out a short laugh and finishes his second drink. "I'll order ya something else."

He's reaching for your glass when you snatch it away from him.

"No, I'll finish it. This is what you usually get?"

"Yeah. But take it easy, that's a—" Kishibe stares, a little defeated as you down the glass. "Tha'sa sippin' whiskey."

"What's that mean?" You croak out, your face scrunching up despite your efforts.

"It means you're getting a glass of water before I get you anythin' else."

"Why?"

You'll thank me in the morning, Kishibe thinks grimly, not deigning to answer. Along with the next few rounds and the rounds after that, he also orders your water and some food, feeling abnormally generous. Maybe he just doesn’t want to deal with your grumbling tomorrow at training.

He can’t stop thinking how strange this is. It’s strange. You’re here in his usual booth, humming an odd tune while drinking his usual whiskey, when he’s here each night, usually alone. Kishibe feels the deep disturbance all the way to his roots, gnarled and twisted as they are.

Watching your face twist up at the taste again, Kishibe decides to slow down with some soju instead. Your eyes are getting blurry and your hands have settled into some kind of nervous habit, picking at the edge of the table as you try not to look at him. He doesn't understand your insistence here. Here at the bar, or anything else.

"Why are you doin' this?" He asks again, quiet.

You glance at him, blinking slowly as your gaze struggles to focus. Then you force a smile, sweet and pure as a Devil's heart. It's damn near chilling to see.

"'Cause I want to, sir."

"Bullshit." He's looked into you. Your family is alive, financially stable. You're not like most rookies joining up for the pay or the revenge. And from being around you he figures you aren't the type to do this for status. So it doesn't make sense.

Your smile fades. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. You're not cut out for this shit, kiddo. An' I think ya know it, too."

"It's my first night out drinking, how can you tell?"

"Don't play coy with me."

You stand sharply, unsteady, a look crossing your face that Kishibe can't read. Before he can speak again, you're sliding into the booth on his side.

"Then ask me directly, sir." You whisper, trying valiantly to meet his harsh stare, before eventually losing your nerve and fixing your gaze on the table.

Like Kishibe has any problem being direct. Fine then. He sets his glass down and turns his body to face you. "Why're ya training so damn hard to become a Devil Hunter when it's just gonna get you killed?"

Cheeks warming, you don't look at him again. "Every Hunter has their reason, or else they wouldn't be here. We don't gotta share them unless we want to."

Your words are halting, and slurred. Kishibe pushes your drink out of reach. A fifth of whiskey and bottle of soju between you both for your first night out was an oversight on his part, even if he had more than you.

"And you're not goin' to tell me?"

Head dropping into your palm, eyelashes fluttering, you peek up at him. "Not unless you can tell me why you care."

Kishibe pauses. He's got plenty of reasons, but he's not uncouth enough to say them to you. 'Cause he doesn't want to be wasting his time prepping meat for the chopping block. 'Cause booze is expensive and sleep is precious. He doesn't get enough as it is and he's sick at the idea of losing more. 'Cause every time one of his trainees dies, it feels like a new scar cracks its way across the already trampled fragments of his soul.

There's plenty of reasons he drinks himself nearly dead every night.

Your fuzzy eyes peer into his darkened ones and seemingly run into the wall that you know he's put up. "Then it's better you don't ask, sir. It’s important to me, that’s all you need’ta know."

So much for direct.

There's a silence at the table after Kishibe gruffly orders another drink, his mood for the night officially ruined. This is why he doesn't socialize with coworkers. Save people by day, check out at night. He lives for one fleeting peace; he'd rather be drowning in booze and laid up in the arms of whatever woman will put up with him.

And all he has right now is booze. He flags the barkeep. "Bottle for the road."

You shift to look at him. "Are we leaving already?"

"Yeah. You've had plenty."

There's no complaint, but there's no mistaking the look of disappointment on your face as he takes your arm and helps haul you to your wobbly feet.

"What's that look for?"

"I was having fun, sir."

"Stop calling me sir."

"Why?"

"Cause we're at a fucking bar. Sir is for work."

"Then what am I supposed to call you?"

"Just Kishibe."

He finally looks at you again and you're smiling and this time there's nothing to be unsettled about. "No honorific? You'll let me call you by name?"

"It's sir at work," Kishibe reminds, deadpan.

“And master in front of other hunters, I know,” you parrot cheekily, and Kishibe merely curls his lips in a temporary smirk.

“Damn right.”

"But not at work?" You prod, leaning into his frame heavily as the cold night air washes away the warmth of the bar.

"Then yeah, drop the honorific."

"Kishibe." His name leaves your lips as a wonder-filled giggle. The corner of his lip tugs further upward unwittingly in dry amusement. At least someone can salvage the mood for the night.

You poke at the bottle held loosely in his grip. "Can I have some of that?"

He passes it to you. "You don't even like the stuff."

An impressive amount of the amber liquid disappears down your throat before you groan in disgust and pass it back to him. "Sometimes we do stuff we don't like 'cause we get something out of it."

Kishibe hums at that. "And what do you get out of it?"

"'S a secret."

"A secret, huh? You seem to have a lot of those." He drawls, keeping you upright when you almost fall again. Yeah, he needs to find you a taxi or something. Neither of you are driving tonight. It's a little annoying, he meant to stop at the convenience store to get another pack of cigs before going home tonight. The crumpled empty pack is still in his pocket—he hasn't had one since this morning and Kishibe can feel the irritation in his nerves.

"What's your address kid?" He nudges you as the taxi pulls up, but your weight against his hip suddenly feels dead. "Are you—of course you are."

Kishibe's whole chest fills with his next sigh, and he quietly works to get you into the cab. The driver asks him where they're going and he actually has to think about it for a moment. He'd much rather prefer going back to his cozy little hideout, but it's a mess and much too small. Not to mention he absolutely does not want you knowing where it is.

Closing his eyes, Kishibe reluctantly mumbles out an address, and sinks even deeper into his bottle before the cab drops them off at the requested location.

He eyes you over as the elevator quietly ascends, one arm around your waist with yours around his shoulder to bear your weight. It's really no wonder you passed out, the scent of whiskey is just about crawling out of your pores. Between the two of you, Kishibe bets the elevator smells like a distillery.

The doors open into his “apartment”.

He doesn't like sleeping here. The place is too big, ceilings too high, furniture too fancy. All those high windows and modern grays and whites. It's perfectly clean and perfectly lifeless, set up for him by the PSDH. He's sure some bright-eyed big shot hunter in it for the money and high living would get a kick out of the place, but for a man like him the space is just obnoxious. But since his studio isn't an option, and Kishibe can't be bothered with taking you to a hotel, he figures you'd rather prefer one of his guest rooms instead.

Kishibe flinches and grumbles under his breath as the now empty bottle slips from his hand and clatters to the hardwood. You make a rather undignified snort as you startle to awareness. If one could call it that.

“Wha—” Your fingers cling to the sleeve of his jacket as you blink through the blur of your eyesight, struggling to find your footing. “Where’re we now?”

“My place.”

“You live here?”

“Technically.”

He hauls you towards the kitchen, somewhat a struggle with your uninhibited desire to swivel your head and scan the place as thoroughly as you were presently capable of doing.

“Not what I pictured.” You wobble and right yourself, slumping against the marble countertop. Kishibe pauses, making sure you’re gonna make a dive for his floor before he turns to pull open the fridge.

“Yeah well, me neither.”

“It’s so clean.” That earns you a grunt. “And modern.”

“You tryin’ to say something, sweetheart?” He sends you a look that sends a hot wave of embarrassment across your face.

“No! ‘M just sayin’...”

“Yeah, whatever. Here.”

You take the water bottle he pushes into your hands and open it, halfheartedly taking a few sips to ease the simmer in your cheeks.

Kishibe snorts when you put it down. “Nuh uh, finish that.”

You take another sip, trying to placate him. “‘M not thirsty though.”

Your eyes widen as he grumbles and steps closer, dark eyes narrowed. It’s impossible to muffle the noise of complaint on your lips as he tips the water bottle back, keeping your chin up with an uncompromising strength. "Tough. I said all of it."

The rough pads of his thumbs feel like fire on your jaw and he seems to have no idea how his proximity is setting you ablaze. You quickly swallow before you choke, or worse spill down your chin like a child. He doesn’t let go until you’ve finished the bottle—it’s impossible not to gasp for air as if you’ve breached the surface of a pool for the first time in minutes.

“Pretty good lungs.”

“I almost died—!” You wheeze, unappreciative of the joke, wiping your face with your arm.

“You were gonna be dead in the morning if you didn’t. Might as well get it over with.” Kishibe sets the empty bottle on the counter, unflappable.

“Hmph.”

You watch curiously as he grabs himself some water, noticing with a scowl that he doesn’t drink nearly as much as he forced on you. He reaches for a small bottle, rattling as he shakes a couple into his palm. “You’re not supposed to take those with alcohol.”

Kishibe gives you a dry look and pops the painkillers into his mouth. He can feel his head pounding already, his routine thoroughly interrupted. He can’t mentally check out with you still here, especially in this state. You look a little more solid now compared to your unconscious slump, but you’re still visibly swaying, blurred eyes drifting in and out of focus. Last thing he needs is for you to do something to yourself when he’s around. The paperwork for that would be the death of him.

He shrugs and nods for you to follow. “C’mon, sweetheart.”

You suddenly look nervous. “C’mon where?”

“Night’s over. Time for bed.”

You produce a shaky laugh. “What?”

Sweet fuck.

“You want a bed or the couch?” Kishibe takes applaudable effort to keep the exhaustion out of his tone. Honestly, you'd probably be better off with the couch, grateful for your mumbled little ‘doesn’t matter to me’. He's not sure of the state of any of the rooms, considering he's trashed them before. Whoever set the place up for him might have a cleaning service but he's never bothered to ask about it since he’s never here. “There’s blankets around here somewhere.”

Stepping into the living room he sees he’s right, a couple of soft looking throws draped over the back of a plush black sectional. You’re trailing close behind him, like you’ll get lost if you lose sight of him.

“Sit.” Kishibe says tiredly as you circle around the edge of the sectional, looking around curiously.

You listen and he grabs the other blanket off the far arm of the couch, tossing it and one of the pillows towards where you’re sitting. The pillow lands at your side, the blanket haphazardly in your lap, are you’re just staring at him as he settles on the other side, shrugging out of his suit jacket and letting that fall to the floor.

“Get comfortable, go to sleep,” Kishibe grunts, closing his eyes.

“You’re staying in here?”

He doesn’t read into the tone of your voice, keeping his eyes shut. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t choke on your own puke in your sleep.”

“‘M not gonna puke,” you grumble under your breath.

Kishibe wills in a sigh, listening to the rustle of blankets and what he assumes is you settling down. Only to tense as the cushion near him dips under weight. He opens his eyes to see you sitting you next to him and his eyes sharpen.

You cut him off, seeming to sense whatever biting remark is coming. “I’m not tired. Not good at sleeping in new spaces.”

“Well you need’ta try.”

“Can we just talk for a bit?”

He sighs, but he doesn’t refute you, opening his eyes to give you a quiet stare. “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

Relying heavily on the lingering alcohol in your veins to gather the nerve, you scooch closer to his position on the couch, dragging the blanket with you. “You’ve really never had anyone over here? But Himeno says you never spend your nights alone.”

Kishibe eyes you warily as you enter what he considers his field of personal space, your knees barely brushing against his thighs. “I don’t normally spend my nights here. And you can tell Himeno she’s got better things t’do than gossip about my personal life.”

“So you spend the night at their place then?”

“Sometimes.”

“Are you really the womanizer everyone says you are?”

Kishibe glances up to see you even closer and shifts a little to give you a measured look, eyelids drooping in suspicion. “You really want the truth of that?”

“Yeah, ‘m hoping to hear something,” you murmur, heart racing as you place a hand on his abdomen. It stiffens under your touch, but he makes no move to stop you, so you toy with the button of his shirt.

“And what’s that exactly?” Shock receding, his mind catches up and he grabs your hand, keeping it from tracing its upward path.

“There’s something I’m hoping you can help me with, sir.”

“Kishibe.”

“Kishibe,” you correct, cheeks warming as you finally raise your eyes from his chest to look into his own. He’s watching you so closely that you almost look away again, almost chickening out.

His eyes are locked onto the way you’re chewing at your lip, waiting for you to say something more, hoping for anything that makes sense. When you don’t his patience thins enough to ask, “Well?”

“I-um,” you hesitate before your fingers curl into his shirt, mentally fortifying yourself, “I’ve never… I’m looking for someone experienced to- to help me. I want it to be you.”

There's a small pause as his whiskey-addled mind filters out the meaning of your words. Then, a small disbelieving smirk is half-formed on his lips when he scoffs out a laugh. “Ha, no, sweetheart. No, I don’t think so.”

He’s shifting to stand up off the couch when you panic. You’ve gotten this far! He has to hear you out, or you’ll never be able to look him in the eye again, let alone train under him. So before he can, you throw your thigh over his lap, straddling him. His hands flash to your arms in an iron grip, keeping your hands from wandering any further. He’s staring at you in muted disbelief, tense, as if he can’t quite believe you’re defying him.

“Please wait,” your voice raises in pitch, but you’re almost whispering. “I can explain, please just listen.”

“What? Cute little student girl got the hots for teacher? Or are you desperately in love with me now, and can’t bear the thought of anyone else sullying your innocence?” he drawls out, the insanity of this situation finally allowing him to release the floodgates on all the ill manner he’s been attempting to keep back all night.

Your face might as well be a space heater as you splutter in mortification at being seen through so easily, trying to find the words to refute him. “N-no! No, I wasn’t. That’s… That’s not…”

“You better clear this up real quick then, sweets, cause you don’t have long before I take it into my own hands,” Kishibe warns lowly, soft and dangerous, seconds from calling a cab to get you miles away from his apartment, and more importantly him.

The hard-eyed stare he’s giving you now is nothing like the way he looks at you in training. Your heart sinks into your stomach at the thought that entertaining your feelings is enough to make him react this way, turning him into this colder version of himself that you barely recognize. This is not going the way you intended, but you can’t imagine that you’ll ever be in a situation like this ever again, so you take a deep breath and clear your expression of all deceit. “It’s not like that, but I really can’t think of anyone else to help me with this. It’s not for lack of trying.”

Kishibe eyes you, his grip on your arms not slacking. You glance down at him warily, and he’s like a bristling cat that’s making an attempt at trust.

“So…? Will you help me?”

He mumbles eventually, still tense, “Why not Hayakawa? Or one of the other rookies, they’re probably better suited.”

You make a face. “The rookies are stupid, and Hayakawa-san is just too… stern.”

“I’m not stern?”

“That’s not the point!” You retort hotly. “Hayakawa just seems more like someone who isn’t interested in casual flings—”

“And that’s what you’re looking for here?” Kishibe cuts in drily, noting the way your mouth snaps shut. You shift awkwardly in his lap and he stoutly blames his nightly routine for the way his body is sluggishly perking to life. He might have the heart of a saint, but his mind is more like a devil’s… and he has eyes.

Oblivious to his internalizations, you grimace. You don't want casual anything so it's technically a point in Hayakawa's favor. But there's one big point in the younger man's (begrudgingly small) list of cons that can't be overlooked: he's not Kishibe.

“I’m looking for someone who knows what they’re doing,” you inform him, your voice softening. There’s a sort of vulnerability to you now that has the older man caving despite himself and listening more intently, watching you whiplash between assertive and shy for the nth time. “Someone I trust, who won’t take advantage of me. And… I don’t believe the whole sacred virginity schtick, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want my first time to be… I don’t know, special?”

Kishibe’s mouth runs dry, and this time he blames the alcohol. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Don’t say that,” you plead softly, leaning closer without thinking in your excitement. That wasn’t a refusal. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal, I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

He can feel your breath on his cheeks, his eyes bouncing between your lips and eyes for a moment before humming low. “No one else? A girl like you, having to settle for an old man like me?”

"No one has to know. Please, sir?" You plead quietly, with crystal notes of sincerity. It's a painfully sweet sound.

Kishibe reluctantly lets your arms slip from his hands and drops his own to loosely grip your waist, absently drawing a pattern on your hip with one finger. The heat of your body is filtering so thick through your clothes that he doesn't know how he didn't notice it until now. You shiver at his touch, and he tries to keep his expression neutral when you instinctively grab at his shoulders.

He shouldn't be considering this for even a second, but he is and he hates himself for it. You're a young pretty thing, and he's made a point to stop looking at young pretty things the way your touch is sparking him to, for going on years now.

Carefully, one hand moves to rest on your stomach, caressing its way up over your covered chest, eliciting a soft gasp from you before it moves on and settles under your chin, firmly tugging it down to make sure you're looking at him. He's never cared for the way you can't look him in the eye, and he normally lets it go but he won't tolerate it tonight. If he goes through with this, that is.

Your eyes are wide, and glazed in a way that has nothing to do with alcohol for the first time tonight. Kishibe makes a low sound in his throat at the sight of it before speaking, a heavy, rumbling tone meant to ensure you're taking in every word.

"You want me to do this for you?"

"Yes." Your breath catches as you damn near breathe the word out, your heart in your throat and a flutter in your stomach that makes you feel like you might fly away.

"Then tell me exactly what it is that you want." Fuck, he’s really doing this.

"I…" The hesitation must be clear on your face because his expression gets heated, a tiny smirk forming at the corner of his lips. You wouldn't have seen it at all if you weren't staring at them so hard. A quiet moan spills from your lips as he presses them to your jaw, not quite kissing, but dragging them up, warm breath tickling your ear. The center of your world quakes as he continues with that low, soul-quaking tone.

"Do you want me to treat you like a princess? Worship your body and make it all about you, take you to another world as I take you apart?" Kishibe marvels at the broken whimper you make as he grazes his teeth across your earlobe. "Or do you want me to be a little selfish? Show you pleasure as I know it, and change everything you think you know about carnal desire?"

"Sir—"

"No," he warns severely, gripping your thigh in warning, pulling back to look you in the eye.

"Kishibe," you correct yourself with a breathy whine that you hope doesn’t sound ridiculous. "Kishibe, I want you to choose."

"You want me to choose?"

"Th-that's why I chose you. You always- always know what's best."

That's so far from true, but in this realm of possibility, with you blinking those sweet little doe eyes down at him, Kishibe won't be the one to correct you. "...Alright."

"Then please take care of me." Please.

This time it's him who shudders. "Alright," he murmurs again, "Alright, sweetheart. I've got you."

He’s a little gentler this time as he tugs your chin down to him, meeting your lips in a delicate kiss that has all his nerves standing to attention in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. With other women, he has no reason to be slow or gentle. With other women, both parties know what they’re there for, but this isn’t like that. You aren’t like that. You’re young, and if you’re to be believed, untouched. Pure. And you’ve put yourself in his care, begging for him to remove that purity. He’s not sure he ever would have agreed to this if he were sober, so you lucked out. Or maybe this is what you wanted all along.

Kishibe groans softly as you timidly move to respond to his kiss, alcohol sweet on your breath. You at least seem to know what to do here, parting your lips and staying pliant as he learns how you taste, moving your tongue against his as he explores your mouth. He breaks for a moment, giving you a warning and enough time to stop him, tugging at the hem of your shirt. “I’m taking this off now.”

He waits, and when you do nothing but moan, he begins to pop the buttons of your shirt open, one by one from the bottom up, exposing your navel, and then the black cotton bra beneath. You kiss him deeper as he slides a hand up your spine, rocking your hips into his lap as he pulls at the clasp, undoing it in a practised move. The fabric falls loose, and he presses a hand to your sternum, forcing you to retreat.

Your lips are slick, a little swollen, but it’s the hazy look in your eyes that has all his attention. “You good, sweets? You even gonna remember this in the morning?”

“I will. I will, 'm promise. Please keep going,” you slur, not really giving him the best vote of confidence.

“Take that off for me.” Kishibe tugs loosely at your bra, the cups hanging just low enough for him to get a peek at your areolas. His cock is straining in his slacks now, but he’s too invested for it to be uncomfortable yet. He meant it when he said he was going to take you apart, and he’s going to do it slowly.

You blink at him, and timidly slide the straps off your shoulders. Your movements are slow, but there’s less hesitance than he’s seen so far. It’s clear you’re more worried about his disapproval than any insecurities you might have. Good.

“Good girl. Look at you,” Kishibe is quick to dole out the praise as soon as your tits are exposed, half for your confidence and half because they really are pretty tits. He’s reaching for them before even he can process what he’s doing. Your nipples are already hard, pulled taut and looking painfully neglected, either from your own arousal or the air. It could be cold in here for all Kishibe knows, but the air around him feels thick, heated and charged. He’d be suffocating if he weren’t so focused.

You take a shuddering breath as he holds them. His touch is so light, the pads of his fingers calloused and warm, stroking over the sensitive flesh. You want more, arching into his touch as much as you dare, still unable to shake the thought that he might change his mind and end this, but for now he doesn’t disappoint. Dazed, you realized the sharp gasp that bites the air is yours as he strokes the pads of his fingers over your nipples before tugging lightly, pleasure rippling hot under your skin.

Your head tosses back in a moan as he does it again, this time his lips brushing the curve of your breast as he pulls you forward, pressing your chest closer to his face. He sucks at the fat of your breasts, still gently tweaking your at your hardened nubs, working his way over, seemingly content to explore.

Pleasure moves hot and slow under your skin, but your mind keeps rocketing from one sensation to another, making it impossible to think beyond the man beneath you. His slick tongue moving against your skin, the heat and wet of it stroking over the edge of your areola, the rough pad of his thumb, the scrape of his blunt nail over the sensitive tip of your nipples, the same callouses gripping at your back, fingertips tickling the edge of your shoulder blade.

“Quit it,” Kishibe grunts after a minute, and you realize you’ve twisted your hands into his hair, tugging him closer and trying to drag him to where it feels like he’s purposefully avoiding.

“Please, Kishibe, please,” you moan, blissfully unaware of the minor tantrum you’re throwing at you grind down on his clothed erection. “Your mouth.”

“What about it?” He blinks at you lazily, taking the moment where you sit back to tug at the top few buttons of his own shirt, exposing the top of his chest and a peek of the dark hair that’s hidden beneath.

“Let… Let me feel it,” you breathe out after you’ve snapped your eyes away from that new detail.

The slow grin that spreads across his features feels like the first key in the series of locks that surrounds the man in front of you, a piece of him that he doesn’t share willingly. Something that has to be brought out, dragged out, a prisoner in a cage of its own making.

“Be more specific, sweets.”

But he’s still the same man, he just exists in varying shades. You squirm for a moment, subject to self-consciousness, but the ache in your nipples, growing tighter in the continued neglect, wins out. You cup your own tits, pushing them out as you lean back down to him. “Want it here. Need to feel you suck on them.”

An appreciative gleam brightens dark eyes. “There’s a good girl.”

This time Kishibe leans in with intent, and you learn something else—your mentor is a goddamn tease.

His tongue drags over your nipples before sucking, and your hands are tangled in his hair again before you can process it, a cry in a pitch you don’t even recognize torn from your mouth. The slick muscle flicks over the tip as his free hand comes up to roll the other between his fingers lightly. You’re shamelessly rutting into his lap now, senselessly chasing the pleasure boiling low in your stomach, and you can feel him moan against your skin at the friction.

You feel the scrape of his teeth, light and intentional, before he pops off and switches to the other. The treatment begins anew and you swear you might be able to come from this, the wet suction of his mouth, the tacky warmth as he tugs and twists at the nipple still covered in his spit. But Kishibe doesn’t let you, noting the frantic ruts of your body and beginning to slow his efforts, easing you back down.

“Wait—” Your complaint rears itself as your fingers twist into the shorter hair of his nape, trying to tug him closer the moment he pulls away.

“Easy, I’m not done with you,” he rasps, taking your wrists and gently detanging your fingers from his hair.

You yelp as he grips your thighs and flips your back to the cushions, a strength you already knew he had from all the times he’s stomped you in training, but it surprises you regardless. There’s no time to pick through your thoughts at the display, because Kishibe is bullying between your thighs and capturing your lips in a kiss that puts the last one to shame. It’s possessive, it’s plundering; erasing any other thought from your mind except the way he feels against you. How immovable he feels, his hips keeping your thighs spread, his obvious arousal against your core, his weight against your torso—whatever isn’t supported by his forearm against the cushions, just what he chooses to give you—the scratch of his stubble against your face, the ones he lets overgrow because they shadow his jawline again in less than a day.

You moan into his mouth as a hand slips between your bodies, pulling the button of your slacks and pushing a hand into your panties, the sound turning into a high keen as he drags his fingers through your slit. You know you’re wet, soaked even, but it’s still a shock to feel your own wetness as he pulls back out, slick against your mound before he’s free of your clothing, to see it shining on his fingers when he pulls back to give you a breath. You knew you wanted him, but to see how much would be mortifying if he knew the truth.

The glisten on his fingers goes unnoticed for a second as he catches sight of your wrecked expression, sitting back on his haunches.

“Oh sweets, look at you,” Kishibe chuckles, voice tight. “You’re a pretty sight right now, and you don’t even know. A sweet little mess. My sweet little mess, for tonight.”

Making a decision, he swipes his hands on the thighs of his pants and undoes his shirt, tossing it over the back of the couch, aware of the way you stare from beneath him. He's getting there in years, but the aches of this job refuse to let his body go soft. There's a thin layer of soft skin stretched across the muscles beneath, making the definition less pronounced, less assuming, but there's no denying the power behind them as he flexes subtly, smirking when your eyes track the movement.

"Hips up," he orders firmly, his fingers already tugging at the waistband of your slacks.

Not needing to be told twice, you shift and raise your hips as he pulls them from your legs, panties and all. You're completely bare under him, and he's still wearing his pants, the button popped, looking like a god above you. His eyes are piercing, his expression set like marble. As he puts hot palms on your thighs, spreading them even further apart, you think about how attractive he looks when he smokes, almost wishing he had a cig hanging from his lips so you could see it.

Kishibe is staring intently at your pussy, the hunger in him growing deeper as he watches the muscles twitch. "So no one's ever touched this, huh?"

You shake your head, whimpering as he pulls your sticky lips apart.

"You lying, sweetheart? Not even you?"

Kishibe pulls back the hood of your poor swollen clit, stroking it lightly with the tip of his finger, dark eyes watching your face intently.

The touch rips a gasp from your throat like ice had been poured down your back, tossing your pretty little head back into the pillows as your fingers twist at what little slack the cushions beneath you have. Kishibe feels the flames of hell crawl a little closer to his own flesh as his arousal flares dangerously at the sight.

When you remain silent he prompts a little cruelly for an answer, slowly circling the throbbing bud. "Hmm?"

"I've-yeah I've touched it. Sometimes."

"Tell me."

"Tell you?" You suck in a harsh breath as one of his digits teases your entrance, but pulls away.

"Yeah, tell me how you touch your pussy at night. I wanna know how you play with yourself." His voice drones with detached amusement but his dark eyes are sharp, the sight making your skin prickle with elation to be the center of his attention.

“Usually slow,” you breathe out, moaning when he moves to your clit again. Two fingers press on the bundle of nerves and begin to rub back and forth in a steady tempo.

“Like this?” Kishibe murmurs, watching you closely.

“Slower,” your voice breaks an octave higher as he increases the pressure just a little, readjusting to what you now realize are instructions for him. “Y-yes, mm, like that…”

“Good. How about your fingers, hmm? You do that slow too?”

You can feel yourself dripping down to the couch as his voice drips across you like honey. “Yeah, at first.”

“One to start?”

“Fuck!” A keen tears from your throat as he slides the first digit in, abandoning your clit, the thick, calloused digit pressing in to the hilt with zero resistance.

“Or do you start with two?” Kishibe watches raptly as his middle joins his pointer in the rippling warmth of your cunt, the broken sob leaving your lips sending a irresistible wave of want tearing through his body. The way your hips grind into his touch, chasing more of him is enough to let him know that you can take more, but he lets you stay here for a moment, using his free hand to stroke over his confined cock as you writhe beneath him.

It’s not hard to find the right angle to stroke your slick walls, curling his fingers up into the spot that has you tossing your head back with what almost sounds like a mournful wail, as if you’re just realizing that you’ve never really given yourself real pleasure before. Kishibe isn’t sure if you have to be honest, you haven’t said, but he isn’t concerning himself with that. He’s too focused on the way you shy away from his touch when he presses his thumb to your clit again, as if you can’t take the combination.

“Oh?” It’s almost a coo, delight pulsing in his veins. “Not like that huh? That not how you do it?”

“I can’t, I can’t—it doesn’t, n-never like this!” It almost sounds like you’re pleading with him, your eyes wide as you stare at him, a thick haze of shock and bliss covering your irises that Kishibe is losing himself in, pumping his wrist, tempted to add a third finger just to see what sounds you’ll make.

“Told you I’d change everything you think you know about pleasure, sweetheart.” He pulls his digits from your pussy, relishing in the whine of protest. And if he’s being honest with himself, there’s a bit of a power complex rushing through him, to be able to control your pleasure whether you think you can handle it or not is too alluring. It’s the thought of making you scream, nothing barred, as he forces ecstasty on you that you don’t even know exists on that has him pushing off the couch which a groan to finally free his cock, shucking his pants off, the liquor leaving him a little unsteady.

“Sit up for me.”

You do as he says, confusion scrunching you expression as he settles between your legs, his knees protesting only a little as he shifts so that the plush carpet isn’t dragging uncomfortably against his skin. A little yelp stays in your throat as he tugs you to the edge, spreading your thighs wider and positioning your hips up to expose your pretty pussy. He’s only a breath away, the scent of you thick, kissing distance really, when you slur out some nonsense that sounds questioning, but he can’t say he actually catches any sense of syllables from you.

“I’m thicker than most so you need this,” Kishibe grumbles, nipping at your inner thigh as you squirm and glaring you into submission, “But even a man with a pencil dick better be doin’ this for ya, so don’t accept less.”

Before you can come to terms with him on your knees before you, your mind fizzles out as his tongue swipes through your folds, and his groan vibrates deep into your core. If not for his hands keeping your thighs spread, you would have wrapped them around his head. His nose nudges at your clit as his tongue presses into your clenching pussy, and you can’t stop the garbled sound of pleasure as he laps at your walls, your head tossing back against the couch cushions as he eats you like a meal. It’s surreal, it doesn’t make a lick of sense but oh god you don’t care. The sounds of him slurping at your cunt makes your cheeks burn and you force yourself past your self consciousness to look down at him, the skin of your knuckles stretched tight as you curl them into shaking fists, trying to wrap your mind around the sensations.

Kishibe flattens his tongue over your clit, and meets your gaze with a wicked gleam in his eyes as he slips a finger into you, savoring the way you clamp down right away, giving a reedy mewl. He can’t help himself any longer, one hand closing around his dick and beginning to slowly stroke himself, trying to go slow, to ease some of the pressure and calm himself down. He adds another digit, and sits back as he begins to work you towards your finish.

“Should’ve done this in a bed,” he mutters under his breath, the scent of your pleasure thick, feeling mildly guilty as you tremble through your long awaited awaited high. Even his first encounter had been in a bed, traditional.

Kishibe hisses into your thigh as your fingers twist so tight into his hair that he’d snap at you if he were anywhere but here. Here with his fingers sweeping over your clit, watching the way your muscles ripple and tense, an obscene amount of slick and cum dripping onto his couch, and damn it why are you so easy to spoil? Why is he letting you practically rip the hair from his head as your hips jolt and jump, pleasure taking every ounce of your control away from you. There’s a wet sound as he finally pulls his fingers from your cunt, and you slump against the cushions, a looking so beautifully fucked out that it’s a damn shame you haven’t actually been fucked yet.

But that’s what you came here for, and Kishibe will not be the one to disappoint. He pushes to his feet for a moment and drags your hips until you’re both on the couch comfortably, and lets himself sink between your legs, his dick hot and throbbing against your inner thigh. It’s weeping precome and there’s a shivering sense of relief to know that his patience is finally about to be rewarded.

“You still with me, sweets?” Kishibe murmurs softly, leaning over you, letting his lips drag up your throat in a possessive trail of teeth marks and bruises. “You ready for me?”

The prickle of his overgrown stubble brings you back down a little, and you moan as his tongue swipes over the indentations left in your flesh. “That was—” you gasp at a sharp dig of his teeth under your jaw, hips arching towards him as you feel the weight of his dick between your slick folds, thoughts flying from your mind as the thick tip of him slides over your oversensitive clit. “Oh fuck, Kishibe please. I need y- I need it, oh god.” Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe he really is going to ruin you. You can’t imagine anyone else ever making you feel this good, so overwhelmed but so hungry for it.

“Good fucking girl,” he whispers, and your body lights up as he shifts back a little, the head of his cock pressing against you and easing inside your desperate walls. He grins as your arms wrap around his shoulders, lips searching for his as your hips try to squirm deeper onto his cock. He meets you in a deep kiss, but he grips your hips firmly, sliding deeper into your clenching pussy at his own content pace, groaning into your mouth at how hot and wet you are. So tight, so so tight, that he can’t stop the juvenile thought about being sure you were a virgin from flitting through his mind, but he lets it go, not about to sully this experience for you with his own pussy drunk stupidity, closing his eyes and falling deeper into the kiss, forcing you to slow it and calm down for him, echoing your whimpers with tiny groans of encouragement.

His thrusts are as steady and measured as they can be with the way your walls suck him in, pussy lips stretched wide around the thicker middle of his shaft. Every time he pulls out he can feel the way your body is trying not to let him go, and every sink home is accompanied by a shaky little exhale from you that sets a fire so deep in his gut that Kishibe is sure the whiskey is the only reason he hasn’t fallen to pieces yet. You’re so pretty and needy sprawled about beneath him, so sunk to pleasure that you’ve resigned to just taking what he gives you and it’s addictive. His cock throbs as he listens to your mumbled little slurs about how good it feels, and he has to pause, breathing deep and hard as he wills down a sudden and fierce urge fill you with cum.

Kishibe chuckles as he sits up and you let out a whine of disapproval, but a slow roll of his hips changes your tune immediately. You’re sucking him in greedily, your clit swollen and damn near begging for attention. He brushes it gently with the back of his knuckles, hissing as you squeeze him in response, getting impossibly wetter around his length. “Doing so good for me, how are you feeling?”

“More, want more.” It’s barely intelligible with how breathless you are, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes down your temples. Your face is so sweet, so open, trusting and needy and suddenly Kishibe can’t find it in himself to draw it out on you any longer, is done handing out pleasure piece by piece, as if he were passing out candy to savor. He wants to pour pleasure over you, wants you to drown in it, to fall so deeply into it that there’s nowhere to surface to, lost in an endless sea.

One strong arm slides under your hips and pulls you up into a better position, fingers digging into your hip as Kishibe begins to fuck you in quick, steady strokes. His forehead is pressed to your chest, cheek in plush of your breast as he controls his groans, a dark satisfaction choking out the last tendrils of guilt as your fingers desperately weave their way back into his hair once more, cradling his head tightly to your chest. There’s no more irritation; the sharp sting feels like a fucking prize, knowing that the price is an overwhelming pleasure that he can feel through you. You feel so good around him, responding so well to his movements, angling your own hips and moving back into his thrusts, that he can’t stop a continuous stream of curses and praises from melting into your skin.

“You’re doing so fucking good for me sweetheart, so good. Squeezing me so tight, wrapped around me so perfect. You feel good? Everything you fucking wanted, hm?” He bites at the flesh of your chest as you tighten around his dick, goosebumps rising visibly across your skin.

You feel like a live current, so electric and buzzing with energy and it feels like there’s nowhere for it to go, zipping up and down your body only to return, shivering and sparking deep in your belly. You try to articulate that this is way more than you ever thought you could ask for, but all that comes out are bitten hiccups of his name and yes and please please please.

Kishibe is more than happy to oblige, grunting and groaning in his throat, way past the point of feeling guilty that you’re losing your virginity on a goddamn couch, too caught up in your drunken slurs, more from pleasure than whiskey.

He grins as your fingers clench around his bicep, scrabbling as you gasp out, "Ohh, nngh—Sir wait, wait! Please I'm gonna—"

"Go ahead, sweetheart." Kishihe groans, feeling the rippling constrictions of your sweet pussy drag him closer to the edge.

"No, I'm—I'm gonna pee! Please."

Kishibe’s s head picks up off your chest immediately, and his thrusts stuffer. "Yeah?" You watch panting as his eyes sharpen, hips coming to a full blessed stop. You feel a bare moment of relief before its ripped away and he's moving again, fucking you a little faster than before. "Then go ahead."

You give a wordless cry, shame and pleasure clamoring in the shrill note, your head shaking back and forth in denial. You can't hold it, not if he does that.

"No?" Kishibe feels like the Devil himself as he shifts his angle into a grind, still fast and controlled, watching your features twist as you keep fighting to hold it back. "Am I not making you feel good?"

"Sir!" Your whine draws the title out, panicked, but your knees dig tightly into his hips, your body at least betraying you. Kishibe works a hand under one of your thighs and presses it towards your chest. One of his palms drags down over your tits, stroking down your stomach to put a gentle pressure over your pelvis. Your eyes fly wide and a moan is forced from your lips as the awful urgency thickens, bliss flooding close to the surface.

"If I press here you won't be able to stop it."

Kishibe's stare catches your glazed eyes, dark and hungry. His orgasm is approaching steadily now, pleasure whispering selfish instruction in his ear, and he's unable to help but listen. "You'll come so hard it won't matter anymore. What's a little mess for some pleasure, hm sweetheart? If you want it just tell me."

Your breath catches. His dick keeps hitting that spot in you that makes it impossible to think rationally. He's making you feel so good, goading you in that voice of his that you've worshipped fervently night after night in your apartment, a pillow as your altar.

The voice in your head is screaming no. It's pee. He'll think you're disgusting and you look up to him so much. You don't want him to associate you with something like this, to so thoroughly debase yourself. But he's making you feel amazing, his cock bullying all your softest parts with undefinable experience. You've heard the gossip about how your mentor likes to spend his nights, but how are you supposed to complain when he's making you feel like this? And he's the one saying you can p—

"Get outta yer fucking head and come for me, girl." Kishibe growls through his teeth, palm pressing down firmly, calloused thumb spreading over your neglected clit.

You shatter and cry out, clutching at him tightly, no room for apologies as you tear red lines down his back. Warmth gushes against his pelvis, but the hot shame holds no candle to the blistering pleasure crackling across all your nerves. Listening to Kishibe groan and curse, the feel of him breaking down into something more genuine as his hips snap roughly into yours in chase of the bliss you’re already neck deep in, you’ve never felt more satisfied. He finishes inside you with a deep grunt and your insides flutter again at the milky warmth, your leg curling tight around his ass because you want all of it, you don’t want it to end yet.

But finally, his cock twitches one last time inside you and begins to soften, and Kishibe collapses on top of you with a little puff. You’re damn near ready to purr in happiness at the full weight of him across your body. His cheek rests between your breasts, but you’re unbothered by the scratch of his stubble as his breathing gets deeper, steadier.

Both of you are covered in sweat, cum, and other unspeakables but you’ve never been so comfortable. His softened cock slips out of you, and one of his arms slips under your waist and you feel your heart thud unevenly as he moves to his side and pulls you closer. His head is still buried in your chest, your one leg tangled between his thighs and your other draped over his hip. His eyes are closed, breathing deep and you find it in yourself to cautiously run your fingers through his hair. Kishibe gives a soft, sleepy rumble of contentment and you glow.

The feel of his hair between your fingers is the last thing you remember before the most luxurious drag of sleep tempts you into its clutch of darkness.

You wake somewhere you don’t recognize, your head thick and pounding awfully. You blink slowly in the low lighting and try to sit up, but your head spins and the pain increases so you let yourself fall back with a low whimper.

You turn on your side, fingers curling into the soft covers over you. Last night had been amazing, but you’re certain you had passed out on on the couch, and as you peer around the curtain-darkened room, it’s easy to tell it’s not the same. You don’t remember being moved; you’d like to say you would have woken up if someone had, but even you can smell the alcohol seeping from your pores.

Heart pounding unevenly, you try to calm yourself. You’d been dressed in a soft pair of boxer briefs and a tshirt far too large for you, and while you still feel a little bit sticky, you honestly had expected far worse—someone had tried to clean you up. Your heart starts to race now, fluttering and far too fast at the idea of Kishibe taking care of you. Those are a lot of extra steps to take for someone who preached respectable distance.

“There’s painkillers on the nightstand.”

You finally manage to sit up at the promise of pain relief, seeing the foil tablets and a glass of water, and glance at Kishibe in the doorway, looking about as disheveled as you expect you do. He’s in a loose tshirt and a soft, worn looking pair of sleep pants, blinking sleep and liquor from his eyes as he peers in at you.

“I’m gonna shower, you should too. There’s towels in the bathroom there.” He nods his head deeper into your room and you see another doorway, probably leading to the bathroom. “And you’re out of luck on breakfast. All the place has is coffee and water.”

Your stomach gives a displeased turn at that, desperate for something to offset last night’s alcohol. Before you can say anything, not even so much as a thank you, Kishibe turns and shuffles down the hall.

Slowly, you ease out of the bed and gratefully swallow down half the water before even glancing at the pills, but your screaming head does make sure you toss them back as well, before you peek down the hallway your mentor had disappeared down. You hear the sound of running water and follow it, wandering through the doorway to the room he obviously slept in last night, the bed an unkempt mess of blankets. The door to the bathroom is closed, and there’s already steam filtering through the gaps.

Letting an uncharacteristic determination carry you forward, you open the door and begin stripping off your clothes.

“Get out, sweetheart.” Kishibe’s voice sounds tired and distant, filling you with nerves that you refuse to let show on your face as you ignore him slip into the shower.

He’s working soap through his hair, leveling you with a deeply unimpressed look that would have sent you skittering before last night, before he called you his sweet little mess, before he called you good fucking girl. You take a deep breath and speak your mind.

"I want that again."

His response is flat, immediate. "Not gonna happen."

"Why not? Was it not good?" You look embarrassed and distraught at the thought and Kishibe heaves a sigh.

"How good it was has nothin’ to do with why we can't do this again."

“So you regret it?”

Kishibe isn’t sure where he stands on that yet. “Didn’t say that.”

"But then..."

"But what? I told you this was a bad idea didn't I? You should've chosen someone else. Anyone other than me."

You get a little salty at that. "I might be younger than you," Kishibe gives a sardonic huff "—but I'm still old enough to make decisions for myself."

"Old enough to make your own decisions, huh."

You shift under the water as he gives you a tired stare, his gaze sharpening into something more contemplative, glinting dangerously.

"So you're saying you want that again?" Kishibe questions calmly.

"Yes," you whisper, uncaring if it makes you sound desperate.

"If we do I've got some stipulations," he warns, voice low.

"Like what," your breath hitches as he leans closer, the water getting hotter against your back as he reaches past you to adjust the temperature.

"Well for starters," he grumbles, "I don't have any interest in going to your place. It's here or nothing."

"Fine." Your response is immediate, relief coloring your tone that you're not being immediately shut out.

"And this arrangement will be temporary, no matter how long it goes on," Kishibe continues slowly, his fingers coming up to pinch your lips together, cutting off whatever you were opening your mouth to say. "I'm not the kind of man that would treat ya like you're nothin'. I'm gonna tell you you're sexy when I've got you under me and I'm gonna clean up whatever mess I make of you, so I need to know you're not going to confuse common decency and respect with love, got it?"

You nod slowly, struggling to wrap your mind around the weight of his words. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, you just want more of whatever you can get. It's just a crush, maybe you'll figure out how to squash your feelings somewhere down the line. So you get a little hurt along the way, so what? You're not entirely sure how any of that is a problem and why he looks so serious.

"Anything else?" He hasn't spoken for a minute, but you can still see deep thought etched into his expression.

Kishibe glances at you, soap dripping from his hair down his neck. "Yeah, one more thing."

It's the most damning thing. Makima herself would be proud of him for this. This kind of thing is more her style, but he's already made it this far.

"Ya have to join the civilian sector."

He senses more than feels you stiffen behind him, closing his eyes and beginning to rinse his hair out as he waits for you to speak first. He's not blind, not anymore—after last night he'd really have to be to not understand the way you've been looking at him, probably since the beginning. Kishibe doesn't know how he didn't see it sooner, probably willful ignorance. But his eyes have been opened and he can't unsee it; you're a brat; you wear your heart on your sleeve, and for whatever reason…its flag is flying his colors. So he's going to use that, and you can thank him when you survive the year.

"Join the civilian sector?" Your voice trembles.

Kishibe glances down to see you chewing your lower lip. "Or quit. Find a cozy desk job somewhere. Either works."

"Why?" Your demand is fierce but it's weak; you look like a scruffy little kitten that needs shelter but too scared to come out of the rain. Kishibe can see you crumbling already, making his final stab. Why you'd want him this bad is beyond him, but dirty tactics have never been beneath him.

"If we're doin’ this, you're going to be available to me when I want you. Otherwise I can find others, like I've been doing. Finish up in here, and I'll make some coffee. Might as well go to the office together."

Despair crosses your features, and Kishibe lets the silence do the last of the work, stepping out of the stream and reaching for a towel. He makes quick work of drying off and getting dressed, bones aching for coffee. Curiosity pangs deep in his nerves as he wonders why killing yourself in Public Safety is even worth that expression, and why he’s equally as important as whatever it is. He tries to put it out of his mind and fails, fingers tapping on the expensive countertop.

As the coffee percolates, Kishibe hears the water shut off and the mental image of you stepping out of his shower flickers through his mind, ghosting along the memories of the way you felt beneath him last night. He tries and fails to admit to himself he’s not coming out entirely on top in this situation.

When you finally slip into his kitchen, dressed in your crumpled uniform from last night, you’re no longer wearing that brokenhearted little face, and Kishibe braces himself for whatever little pep talk you managed to give yourself while he was gone. He pushes a mug towards you and the sugar he somehow found while he was waiting.

“I have my own stipulations,” you grumble finally, accepting the mug without looking at him, spooning sugar into it. He wants to wince at the shriek of metal on glass as you stir, but he doesn’t.

“If I have to quit the hunter society to be ‘available to you’, then you have to be available to me.” Your eyes are a little heated as they finally meet his, and Kishibe gives a noncommittal hum. “Meaning you don’t get to sleep around. Just with me.”

Ah. Makima would be proud of you too, Kishibe muses to himself. He decides to let you feel that victory and puts on a show, feigning annoyance. He drums his fingers on the counter and gives you a dry, measured look. “What, sweetheart, want me to get tested or something?”

You rise to his bait, snapping a little. “Maybe that’s a good idea.”

“Fine.” He shrugs and sips his coffee. “Maybe you should too, since you’re so worried about my health.”

Embarrassment burns your cheeks at the thought of making that appointment, but you push through it. “Fine, I will. I’ll be needing to get on birth control anyways.” The barest hint of shock flickers through his expression before he slams it back to its usual tired smirk.

“Anything else?” He asks, sarcasm barely kissing the edge of his tone.

Your thoughts scramble to all the things you’d listed to yourself in the shower but with him looking at you like that, bemused, confident, smug, you forget most of them. You latch onto one thing and give him a glare. “I get a key. And I can sleep here whenever I want. I’m not waiting outside in the cold to be your booty call.”

Kishibe gives you a look and starts to pull a pen out of his jacket but changes his mind. He watches all the bravado and irritation drain from your expression as he steps into your space, melting into something else, something expectant, electric. He pretends he doesn’t see it, pretends that his blood doesn’t pick up at the sight of it, and whispers the passcode to the apartment, so close to your ear that he could bite it. Could.

He pulls back and listens to your shuddering exhale, tilting your chin towards him. “That’s for you only. I don’t give people access to my personal space, got it?”

You nod dumbly, eyes wide and body hot as his dark eyes flicker to your lips.

“Then I guess we gott’a deal, sweetheart.”

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

1K notes · View notes

underscar · 1 year

Text

LIQUOR AND COMPANY

Pairing: Kishibe/Female Reader

Summary: Warm, almost timid lighting for the eyes; an alluring smell of smoke for the nose; and finally, the welcoming taste of alcohol on each tongue. An old fashioned bar is where you found yourself, a shabby establishment you would say. You had only hoped that Kishibe hadn't stood you up again like he had done many times in the past, this was important to you. And time was not so limitless for you. To think of the devil means to resurrect them, and Kishibe was there for company, and you think you'll stay for one more drink for the night.

CHAINSAW MAN MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

A/N: PART ONE - PART TWO - PART FOUR (TBA)

(updated) this is part THREE of my mermaid devil mini series. i am currently working on part one and part four. however, this oneshot can sit well as it's own thing.

i will updated the links as time goes on. please enjoy!

WORD COUNT // 2,158 words

Death was always just the next step in your warped mind. For a long time, mainly throughout your childhood, you daydreamed about your death and wondered constantly about what happens after the end. The thoughts started after the Gun Devil massacre. After your two siblings and many others died. Everyone thought like that though during that time.

Before their deaths, you never thought about the end of life, or what happened after the flower decayed. All you knew, as a ten-year-old child, was that after all those people bled, it was hell on earth. Many lost their faith, many children like yourself lost faith, and the future generation was stuck living a life that was lost.

In your teen years, near the end of high school, you came to a solution; to what exactly happened after death. Hell, nothing. Endless nothingness. That is what you saw as utter peace. Why care about anything if, at the end of every story, there was just nothing?

You thought that for a long time. Until one day you saw a beam of light in a solemnly dark well, a light that never stopped shining for you. And now that solution has shifted.

Death was still empty and meaningless but that beam was absent. You are self-aware enough to realize this. That when you died Beam, your partner, would have it hard, and you would be alone in death yet again with regrets you didn’t understand. He was your only regret in death.

The building you found yourself currently residing in was zippy. Warm, almost timid lighting for the eyes; an alluring smell of smoke for the nose; and finally, the welcoming taste of alcohol on each tongue. An old-fashioned bar is where you found yourself, a shabby establishment you would say.

You had only hoped that Kishibe hadn't stood you up again like he had done many times in the past. This was important to you and time was not so limitless for you.

To think of the devil means to resurrect them, and Kishibe was there for company, and you think you'll stay for one more drink for the night.

A shabby establishment, the bar was, you would say. The rustic brick walls looked and felt almost as rough as the stool cushions. You wouldn’t have been surprised if they hadn’t been washed. The cushions probably have been placed in the seats longer than you had been alive.

The building itself smelled as if the building was on fire. If this bar had fire detectors they would go off constantly due to the cloud of smoke surrounding the area.

You walked past an assortment of drunk chumps on your journey to the secluded area of the bar top. You didn’t bother to respond or turn a glance at any who spoke to you. All your mind wondered was if he came, and of course how pissed you'd be if he didn’t show up.

You stop in your step, halting beside a seated, lone man.

“You actually came, eh Kishibe?” You rested your hand inside your trench coat pockets, looking down at the man who hadn't raised a glance at you.

“Don’t you go feeling special. Just a good excuse to go out drinking,” he stated as he downed the last of his liquor, emptying the glass. “Better than drinking out alone,” he uttered, before finally bothering to look at you, the person who invited him here.

Kishibe shamelessly eyed you down for a moment; you weren't wearing your devil-hunter attire like he was. You wore a beige cami top, it was blatantly strapless despite the trench coat you wore. The brown trench covered your shoulders and absorbed the smoke in the air.

He brought his eyes back to your face, where he found your eyes boring into his eyes, searching for his soul. Kishibe, as insolent as he is, stared back into your void of a gaze and spouted his thoughts, “and you’re not too bad of a sight.”

Your eyes narrowed further. He’s just as you remembered, and you aren’t saying it was a good thing. “Oh shaddup, would ya? I’m not interested in old men,” you barked.

You took the seat beside the rugged man. “Whiskey on the rocks,” you shouted from your spot. “Please?"

The bartender grumbled and nodded before beginning to cook up your drink. Alongside your drink he began wordlessly refilling Kishibes. Making it known that Kishibe is regular at the establishment, you observed.

To think of the devil means to resurrect them, as Kishibe speaks right after your thought. “I heard you signed a new contract,” he said, “with the Curse devil.”

You didn’t deny it. “Yeah, that I did. ‘Tis no secret or jest.”

Kishibe digs through his large overcoat as he responds lazily. “Don't that breaks the contract between you and the Mermaid Devil?” he surmised.

If looks could kill, Kishibe would likely have you in a chokehold before that. Feels like he knows too much about your contract with that damn filthy devil. He was the one who recommended you talk up a contract with that devil when you first started out due to the advantage it would give you over your peers. You remember thinking he was going to come with you, hoping he would, scared.

Though the bastard never showed up.

That’s one of the many reasons why you always think he’s gonna stand you up. Despite that occurrence now being a little over four years ago.

“Why be faithful to a devil? That devil ain’t my spouse.”

The bartender slid you your glass of whiskey, ice giggling inside, sounding like wind chimes.

Kishibe removed a box of unopened cigarettes and he shrugged. “You’re not the committed type anyway.”

“Yeah? Well neither are you, Kishibe.” You brought the cup of whiskey to your lips and took a sharp sip.

Smoke then encased your front vision.

You turn to find Kishibe now smoking a cigarette from a brand you didn’t know, leaning back in his seat. He stared up at the ceiling, the cigarette hanging from his scared mouth. “The Shark fiend,” he muttered in seemingly no direction. Yet everything he said was directed.

“Fiends partnering with devil hunters. What a buncha comedic shit. Funny you got talked into it.”

He crudely placed his elbow on the bar top and grabbed his filled cup of rum. “By that Makima I bet.”

You dodged his statement. Aiming to avoid his morbid interest in your partnership with Beam. “Did you read my email fully or not?” you blocked.

You surely weren't here for chatter, you need a favor, it’s important. You took another sharp sip to ease your creeping nerves.

He narrowed his eyes at you, removing the cigarette bud from his mouth to take a swig. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t read it, wouldn’t you think?”

Kishibe drowned his mouth, drinking damn near half of the liquor in his glass. “Haven’t talked in four years and you’re asking for favors. The audacity of devil hunters these days,” he grumbled, whipping his face.

It had indeed been four years since you and Kishibe were acquainted. It wasn’t as if back then you both were hanging out on a daily basis, it was just that Kishibe was the only devil hunter you knew. He had trained you and after you were sent to do your own thing you and Kishibe used to drink together once every few weeks. Not much nowadays.

The last few years you’ve isolated yourself until Makima partnered you with Beam and a glimmer of light absorbed you from the inside out. “I’d become an alcoholic if I hung with you too much. I keep a safe distance.”

In response, Kishibe dryly chuckled.

A silence absorbed the both of you, the sound of drunk patrons and ice hitting glass hitting your ears.

You bring the glass of whiskey and artlessly place your elbow on the bar top beside Kishibe's crudely placed elbow. How romantic, you thought sarcastically.

“I haven’t told my partner about my new contract,” you said out of the blue, to slowly build on to your request.

“The fiend, eh? Why would you even bother?” Kishibes cup was empty again, and as he spoke smoke eagerly escaped. His side profile was sharp, scraggly facial hair showed and the stitched scar ran across his left cheek from his mouth declaring its presence.

The man was older than you, but that wasn’t why you respected him. You respected him…because he himself embodied life as which cynically you saw it: life's cruel joke.

“I need a favor. Only one,” you said.

Kishibe’s eyes did not shift from anticipation nor surprise. He knew why you were here and was just waiting for you to spit it out. “Hurry up and shoot it.”

After a second you state your favor, allowing yourself to be…somewhat vulnerable. Perhaps it's the little liquor in you. “I want Beam to be taken care of after I die. I don’t want him suffering when I’m gone,” you state openly.

Kishibe’s silence and lack of response intoxicated you with anticipation. He did not blink, or really move, his eyes were still in thought. Smoke covered the dimmed lighted area where you both found yourselves that night.

“…You’ve gotten soft over a fiend,” he surmised. “That’s surprising, especially for you.”

Not the response you wanted. You wanted a sufficient yes or no. Your eyebrows bunch and you unthinkingly lean closer to the man. “Oh shaddup, would ya? Yes or no?”

Kishibe still didn’t give you the response you wanted and just went to lit up another cigarette, burning out the former one at the same time. “How much longer d’ya got?”

He caught on. You were telling him you were going to die just like every other devil hunter he ever drank with.

He kept his gaze on the burning cigarette in hand then exhaled the smoke within him.

Your silence ran on until hitting the finish line, where you confirmed his assumption. “…The Curse devil said not long. A month or so.”

The ice in your whiskey had melted, decayed, sorta like how your life was dissolving by the day till some unknown fate.

“I see,” Kishibe muttered.

He didn’t make eye contact, staring down at his foggy, empty glass. “And your last desire is for me to help this fiend?” he added. He was straight on point. You liked that.

The thought of Beam fluttered your heart. You wondered what he was doing now. Probably sleeping in his room at your apartment. If your bosses knew you left Beam alone in your home you’d surely get in trouble but you trusted Beam, you cared for him.

“Beam’s all I care for and my only regret when I die.” Kishibe didn’t speak, yet he did not interrupt you. “I want him to experience a wave of life, even without me,” you rambled.

He stopped you. “Don’t go expecting me to die or get fired for a fiend.” Kishibe at that moment did not understand your relationship with Beam. He just threw it out the window and thought you had officially gone mad. However, he accepted your request. He’d at the very least try to help you, but like he said he isn’t going to extremes for you.

At his confirmation, you placed your cheek in the palm of your hand, elbow on the bar table.

The dainty light from above hovered over both your hinged souls that lingered too close. “Sure, bud. Just don’t go telling people this, bastard,” you taunted, dryly.

Kishibe didn’t break a sweat, nor show a reaction at the lack of distance between you or your gaze on his side profile. He won’t be swooned by a girl. “I would if I cared enough to. Your business doesn’t interest me,” he mumbled.

You hadn’t caught what he said, too busy removing the cigarette hanging from his mouth and taking a swing, a string of smoke evaded your throat.

Kishibe watches nonchalantly as you lean back into the rough stools and cover the area in smoke. “Try not to get addicted,” he jested, sarcastically.

You handed him his cigarette back, not breaking your gaze from his slanted eyes. He proceeded to take a swing of the cigarette also. An indirect kiss.

You watched him as he had watched you. “I think I'll stay for another cup of this liquor,” you suggest, nibbling your bottom lip, awaiting your turn for another buzz of nicotine.

Kishibe’s dark eyes stayed on yours as he passed you the cigarette, smoke then clouding your face for a second, blocking your view of the man. His hand faintly touches yours as you take the cigarette from his grasp.

“I think I’ll stay for the company,” he voiced.

…The night was young and death was forgotten and disregarded for a faint moment in time. Tomorrow is when reality will actually sink in its knives.

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!

© UNDERSCAR 2023 - All rights are reserved to underscar. Do not repost, copy, change/modify, plagiarise, translate or screenshot my work: this will also include not reposting my writing on other social media platforms and writing platforms.

#© UNDERSCAR #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man x you #chainsaw man x y/n #csm x reader #csm x you #csm x y/n #x female reader #kishibe x reader #kishibe x y/n #kishibe x you #chainsaw man kishibe x reader

29 notes · View notes

shiganshinaslut · 7 months

Text

18+||MINORS DNI

Thinkin about Kishibe fucking you for the first time,,,something about sleazy older men taking your virginity is just fndhgsgdhh,,,,,

“Fuck...you’re taking it so well for a virgin...” he rasps out as he slowly fucks into you, savoring the way you feel around his cock. It’s so sloppy, the way everything is so wet and your juices are coating his cock, practically dripping to his balls, but he doesn’t care. It’s so messy and it turns him on even more, not to mention how cute and embarrassed you are, whining and covering your face, unable to handle someone like him rearranging your guts like that.

#I want that old mans dick in me #I might write more abt this concept #bc I don’t really like what I wrote here #kishibe is so hot oh my god #kishibe thirst #kishibe smut #kishibe x reader #csm kishibe #kishibe x reader smut #chainsaw man thirst #chainsaw man smut #chainsaw man #csm smut #csm thirst #csm x reader

478 notes · View notes

gojoest · 6 months

Text

sfw but suggestive, gn! reader, no label relationship (well..), canon age kishibe (early 50’s), 0.8k, i love this old man a lot and i want to give him a home so this came out

you two were not a thing.

not quite, no.

neither friends, nor lovers — you didn’t have the deep bond between you that friends did but you shared some semblance of what only lovers could. it resembled both and yet — neither at the same time.

kishibe would talk to you about his day. well, mostly skipping the unpleasant parts relating to his job, the many tragedies he’d seen before his eyes, drowning them sip after sip from his drink, seemingly unfazed, into the depths of his mind, brushing them off with a flat “in the end — the hunt went well”. he would talk, quietly and sparingly, while caressing your cheek with his, brushing by to plant soft kisses down your neck. he would talk — but never really share of what was really seared into the wall of his consciousness, or in his heart even.

it was easier to let him come to you whenever he had the time rather than seek him out constantly — most of your phone calls would go unanswered and you would very rarely get a call back; same with your messages — they would remain unread for days, sometimes even weeks. you were aware of the dangers of his job. you also knew of his past, mainly his reputation though, not that he had ever paraded about it. it was easy to read between the lines — “i love booze, women, and killing devils” was what he said the night you first met.

so, with that in mind, you gave kishibe a spare key to your house that he, to your surprise, put to use — quite often at that. it didn’t weigh on you that way. in fact, you felt more at ease whenever he came back, even though you didn’t ask him to.

sometimes he’d come crash at your place after a mission, a bit sweaty and at times — a bit wounded and bloody, too. and you’d take care of him — patch him up nicely and take him to bed with you and there —he would take care of you. “as a thank you”, he’d say, “just putting the years of experience in good use.”

other times he’d drop by unannounced, in the middle of the night, with an excuse that he had a little bit too much to drink and the bar was closer to your place. and you’d take care of him again — fix him a snack, run him a hot bath; sometimes you’d join him, too. squishing yourself between his spread legs. “thanks”, he’d say, grabbing your shoulders from behind only to pull you with his calloused hands, pressing your back flat against his bare chest.

his visits were sporadic at first until, at some point, they became more regular. from once every other week he started dropping by every other day. sometimes a few days in a row you’d get to wake up next to him.

in the beginning you were thrilled upon hearing the door unlock. but now you wouldn’t budge, it felt natural.

tonight was no different — he came to you, again.

“you didn’t lock the door”, he said, in his usual monotone voice. “i knew you’d come”, you replied, lying face down on bed. you could’ve rolled over to take a look at him and greet him properly but didn’t, you knew he’d come to you himself. he always did.

“i have a key”

“i know you do — i gave it to you”

“you should be more careful”, he climbed on the bed slowly and hovered over you, planting a soft kiss on your cheek.

you brushed it off with a chuckled nod, his facial hair tickling the side of your face. “hungry?, you asked, “i can fix you a little something” — in an instant you felt his whole weight let loose over yours, pressing your body against the mattress, trapping you in place — meaning “no, i’d rather stay like this” but “maybe later” he whispered in your ear.

he wouldn’t say it out loud, he didn’t have to — you knew.

somewhere along the line it had become a habit of his to simply hold you like this, just a little bit before letting you take care of him or vice versa — his entire being would cup your frame from above, his tired hands would tenderly caress your skin, his lips would dance at the nape of your neck and across your shoulders, he’d take the scent of you through his mouth like he was inhaling a drag from his cigarette — deeply, as much as his lungs could take. and you would stay wrapped like this, in silent touches, just for a bit; until the sunlight creeped in through the blinds and it was morning again.

you two were not a thing.

not quite, no.

but you were something to him — a place that he loved to return to. it smelled like you. and a little bit like him. something like home; not just a thing.

#ઈઉ — ai writes #@kishibe #kishibe x reader #chainsaw man x reader #csm x reader

413 notes · View notes

hiwofumi · 2 years

Text

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭

starring ⭒ kishibe ⭒ fem reader

tags ⭒ fluff ⭒ age gap ⭒ suggestive scenes ⭒ pet names (for kishibe: old man, dear) ⭒ size difference (reader is smaller than kishibe) ⭒ 1.7k words

note ⭒ started making the banner, had a breakdown, bon appétit 🫠 ⭒ big thank you to the dears @akicore and @blueparadis for beta reading!

𝟏 ︱ THE CONFESSION

“I like you.”

You’re seated next to him in the quiet of a meeting room when you blurt it out. He’s slouching over the wide table, tapping the surface with his fingers, a hair’s breadth of patience left. When he hears you, his fingers stop. Then he turns to you. “Why?”

He retains his lax expression. He’s noticed through your gestures—your habit of lacing your arm around his as you walk, your common act of sitting too close to him (like you are at present). Always him and no one else.

“I’m just an old man. You’re a charming young lady.” He adds.

“Give yourself some credit, old man,” you say, eyeing him casually, resting your cheek on your palm. “Sure, you’re rough around the edges, but I like that about you.”

He always thought your affection was platonic, a young devil hunter doting on her eldest senior. It didn’t necessarily help—if there was anyone who knew best what happened to the good ones, it was him.

He’s certain he won’t ask you to stop anytime soon, though.

“What do you say?” you ask.

“I say you’re crazy,” he responds.

“Is that a no?”

He deliberates as he gazes at you. “No. I like crazy.”

Intrigued by his answer, you reach for his scar, grazing it with the pads of your fingers. His thin beard scratches your palm. His fixed stare tells you he’s waiting for a motion.

The space between you recedes until your lips touch.

You know the taste of whisky and menthol cigarettes, but not when they came from his mouth. Not when he was written all over them.

They taste better like this.

When Makima walks in, you’re settled comfortably on his lap, and your lipstick smears the edges of his mouth. You both turn to her with alarm, the faces of two people caught.

“What’s this?” she smirks, then she turns to you. “I’m surprised. You never struck me as the antique type.”

𝟐 ︱ THE LIFE

When Kishibe was alone, he would come home late at night to inebriate or sleep his inebriation away. His apartment was empty whether he was in it or not; every space seemed cold and hollow, void of anything worthwhile. He refused to stick around for long periods of time.

Now it’s a dresser crowded with makeup products, a closet with nude-colored bras and panties, and a bathroom drain clogged with hair.

It’s also button-ups of contrasting sizes in the washer, big and small dress shoes in the genkan, and the empty side of the bed pleasantly filled.

He’s never felt warmer in his home.

“Eat your fruit, old man,” you lean over the armchair he sits in with a plate of sliced apples in your hand. You offer him a genial smile along with it.

His eyes reflect the motions of what’s on TV as he accepts the plate. “I don’t think you should keep calling me ‘old man,’”

You sit on one of the chair’s armrests. “How’s ‘baby’ sound?”

“Anything but that,” he says plainly, feeding the first piece of apple he picks up to you.

You chew loudly, uttering in between, “Master?”

“You’re not my student anymore,”

“Kishibe?”

“That’s just my name.”

“Hmm,” your tongue protrudes from your cheek. Then you tip your head toward him, “Dear?”

You see it in his pause: the slight curve of his lips, indicating you’ve hit the jackpot.

“I like that.”

𝟑 ︱ THE INTIMACY

“Oh dear,”

Your bare skin rubs against dark sheets as you shift sideways, your head throbbing, a soreness between your thighs. The air you’ve woken up to reeks of liquor and sin.

When you open your eyes, you’re greeted by the old scars on Kishibe’s broad back. He turns to face the ceiling with his eyes still closed, his gray hair sticking out at the sides. “What?” he asks groggily, another layer of gruffness to his voice; it was like that in the morning.

“Did we . . . ?”

His eyes flutter open. He looks down, raises your shared blanket to peek under it, then puts it back. “Looks like it.”

You groan and roll to the other side, facing away from him. “I can’t remember a thing,” you rub your face with your palms.

“I can remember some things,” he faces your side and shifts closer, wrapping his arm around your bare waist, pressing his front to your back. His chin rests on the crown of your head.

“Like what?” you put your hand over his as his fingers caress your stomach.

“Your pretty face,” he murmurs lowly. “Your pretty sounds.”

A breathy chuckle escapes your nose. “Was I good?”

His palm flattens on your stomach. Then it glides downward, to the middle of your thighs, leaving a streak of warmth in its wake. Your lungs feel compressed in your rib cage.

He lingers there, and your mind falls into a one-track state, absorbed in the bliss of his motions.

“So good,” he indulges in your mewls, presses himself to you further, and you squirm.

𝟒 ︱ THE FEAR

For the majority of his life, Kishibe had only seen people die, die, and die.

With you working in the same field, the thought of you joining those people inevitably crept into his mind. It’s another reason to drink, another reason to lie awake at night with a head full of troubles that drown out the sound of your light snoring.

You’re never out of his sight when you’re working together, and you’re never at peace when you’re not. Your cellphone has never received so many calls in one day.

One night, as he undresses on the edge of the bed after a day at work, you straddle his lap. You drape your arms around his shoulders, over his half-undone button-up, and regard him with a tender smile.

He shouldn’t be bothered when you’re a heavenly sight, but the thought creeps into his mind again. He could lose this smile through your line of work. He could lose this existence if you weren’t careful.

For once, he wears his heart on his sleeve. “I think you should resign.”

Your smile falls. There’s no returning from this.

He continues, “Don’t worry about supporting your family. I’ll take care of it.”

Your eyes cast down to his loose necktie. You take it between your fingers and rub the silk. You deliberate for several moments, and the longer he waits, the louder the thumping in his chest resounds.

You meet his eyes with resolve, smiling again. “No.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but you continue, “Look, I know I’m not as strong as you are. Nobody is. But I can take care of myse—”

“I know,” he interrupts. “I’m not saying you can’t. I just want you to—”

“Be safe?” you cup his cheeks, leaning closer until your noses brush. “I know, dear.”

He breathes you in. He notes the growth of your pupils before pressing a kiss to your lips. “I can’t lose ya.”

“You won’t,” you kiss him, too, and linger on his lips. “In fact, I’ll stick around for so long that you’ll get sick of me.”

His heart settles. In a wave of relief, he takes you into his arms and stands. He kneels on the bed, sets your head down on the pillow, and swallows you with his frame. “You’ll get sick of me first,”

𝟓 ︱ THE RESOLVE

“Do you wanna get married?”

Your eyes grow, then shift from the ceiling to set on him. You lie together in bed; sweat sheens his forehead, and his bare chest rises and falls rapidly, like yours. But he sounded calm when he asked, and he looks calm as you observe him.

He turns his head to you. “If I die, everything I own will be yours. I don’t have much, but I’d like you to have all of it.”

In your pensive silence, your breathing eases. You shift your body and face his side, propping your head up on one elbow. “You make it sound like you have to convince me to marry you.”

He replies with a semblance of hope, “Is that a yes?”

You hum in brief thought. “Do you have a ring?”

He pauses, then says, “Not at the moment.”

“Then no,” you switch sides curtly, facing your back to him. He saw it coming.

You meant it lightly. But the following night, as you drink with your colleagues, your several calls to him go unanswered.

Your beer glass sweats in your hand. You wonder if it has to do with your rejection, or worse: What if something’s happened?

Your anxiety branches out, multiplying thought after thought: Should I have accepted his proposal the first time? Was that his last chance to ask me? My last chance to say yes? Are his possessions ever going to be mine like he hoped?

Your colleagues watch you closely, wanting and attempting to assure you that he’s fine. But they know as well as you do that you can never tell.

Then gray hair sticks out of the curtains, a head lowered to fit into the doorframe, and the first pair of eyes he meets is yours.

You’re on the verge of tears with your phone pressed to your ear. You put it down abruptly. “Where the hell were you?”

He trudges toward you, to the end of the low table where you sit alone, and kneels at your side. “Are you drunk? Why are you crying?”

“You weren’t answering my calls,” you sob, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, looking down abashedly.

“I was getting you something,” his hand disappears under his coat. “It was hard to pick.”

He holds a small velvet box out to you and opens it, prompting a collective gasp from your colleagues. “Will you say yes this time?”

The ring matches his silver hair; its tiny stones adorning the sides of the center stone resemble the long scar on his cheek. Your glossy eyes reflect its luster, blurring with the spill of more tears. You nod at him.

Cheers rip through the silence of the room and disrupt the peace of the establishment. He slides the ring into your finger, presses a kiss to your hand, then your lips. “I’ll never leave your side.”

You sniff and smile against the brush of his thumbs under your wet eyes, the tender kiss he lays on your forehead. “I’ll take your word for it.”

network ⭒ @tokyometronetwork

#kishibe x reader #csm x reader #chainsaw man x reader #csm fluff #chainsaw man fluff #csm headcanons #chainsaw man headcanons #csm x you #chainsaw man x you #csm fanfic

3K notes · View notes

sugurizz · 1 year

Text

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.

#kishibe x reader #kishibe smut #kishibe #kishibe csm #kishibe x you #kishibe headcanons #kishibe chainsaw man #kishibe fanart #chainsaw man #csm anime #csm x reader #csm x you #csm x y/n #csm

2K notes · View notes

mncxbe · 2 months

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭...

ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑𝒄𝒘: age gap relationship, old men fantasizing about their younger colleagues, itty bitty smut, dilfs

Men who are reluctant to ask you out because they don't wanna come across as creeps. They know how unusual it is for a man their age to be interested in a younger woman, but they just can't help it. You're so pretty, cheerful and kind, their little ray of sunshine.

Men who know you're at their beck and call and always make the most of it– be it for asking you to bring them a coffee or simply helping them write a report. Anything just to hear you say "yes sir" in that sweet voice of yours.

Men who can't wait for your birthday so they can finally spoil you rotten with gifts, claiming that it's only natural for them to give you something since you're working so hard and doing such a good job. A little token of gratitude. They love watching you unpack your gift, feigning surprise when you tell them it was exactly the thing you wanted. They hit you with a "Oh really now? That's just wonderful. I'm glad to hear you like it" as if they haven't observed you carefully over the past few months and know everything you like and dislike.

Men who feel guilty when their pants tighten as they watch you bend over to pick something up from the floor. They can only imagine how wonderful you'd look bent over their desk with your panties moved to the side– your pretty cunt sucking them in so snuggly.

Men who think of you a bit too much when they're alone, who do their best not to touch themselves out of respect for you but still end up failing miserably. After a hard day at work the only thing that relaxes them is dirty thoughts of you. They always play it cool the next day at work, as if they haven't moaned your name as they came in their fists last night. and the night before that. and the night before that.

Men who eventually notice that you're also interested in them and feel like they're on cloud nine. All their dreams come true when you start giving them little hints– a lingering touch here, an invitation to a bar after work there– but they don't want to rush things. Nah, they take things slow and make sure you're aware of how much you mean to them before even dreaming of laying a finger on you.

Men who are the happiest they've been in years when, after a few weeks of taking you out on dates and treating you to dinner, finally spend the night with you. They make it all about you, really. For once, they set aside their own selfish desires and focus on giving you pleasure like you've never felt before, making use of the many years of experience they have.

Men who love it when you cum for them– it really gets them going. It's soul soothing: watching you melt into the mattress and babble out some sweet nonsense about how good they make you feel. They're so gentle and caring in bed because you're just too precious, but they will gladly spice things up if you want it. Trying out new positions? sure. Toys? on the table. Anything for their pretty darling as long as you keep calling them sir when they're deep inside you.

Men who're already looking for engagement rings less than a year into the relationship. You've got something good going on, so why not? It's not like they're getting any younger. They're more than willing to spend the rest of their life with you, if you want so too, and they aren't going to waste any time to put a ring on your finger.