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#kishibe smut
wxxpingangxls · 2 days
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men who use their huge bulking muscles to his advantage when you get him mad or misbehave in front of guests at important dinner parties. using his huge biceps during doggy to keep you still as his dick keeps hitting deep inside of your cunt as you squeal, completely unable to move because he’s holding you in place. he knows how naughty you get when you don’t get your way so he has to make sure to keep you glued in the position he wants. he pays no mind to your tears streaming down your face and instead uses them to fuel his hunger.
those same men are the ones who use his huge biceps to hold you down when you’re squirming too much as he’s sucking on your clit. shaking his head left and right but still somehow managing to keep you in place as you shake from overstimulation. his strength is completely unmatched.
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Armin, Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, Eren, Ony, Kishibe, Reiner and anyone else 🩷
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pin-k-ink · 7 months
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Men who are lazy, and like to watch their girl bounce on top of him. Loves when you ride him while bracing your hands on his chest, while his hands are fondling yours. Tugs and pulls on your nipples until you are arching your back, pushing your chest more towards him. Makes you lean down so he can suck on your perky little buds, ignoring your whines to be more gentle because he’s usually one to play with your tits until they’re red and raw, and covered with his marks. The rare moments when he’s giving your boobs a break, he’ll be leaning back on whatever surface he’s laying on, a lazy smirk adorning his face as he watches you struggle to remain on top of him. He’ll be mercilessly rubbing your clit, pinching the sensitive bundle of nerves between his fingers until your thighs are trembling. But, the very moment you start showing signs of any tiredness, he’ll be gripping your ass or thighs to hover you just above his hips so he could fuck up into you. Won’t relent until you’re either squirting on top of him or until you pass out.
“Come on pretty girl, you can hold out a bit more, can’t you?” “C’mon baby, fuck yourself dumb on my cock.” “Aw, is my little baby tired? Want daddy to fuck your pretty little pussy now?” “Such a spoiled little girl aren’t you,, can’t do anything without daddy’s help.”
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SUKUNA, gojo, toji, urahara, zaraki, grimmjow, dazai, KISHIBE, yoshida, dabi, hawks, NAGI, sae, reo and anyone else you can think of
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daisynik7 · 4 months
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Men who are just too fucking tired. 
He comes home, shoulders hunched as he shuffles through the front door, eyes bloodshot and heavy from exhaustion. He sees you beaming at him, uplifting his spirit just enough to return a weak smile as he presses a kiss to your lips. It’s in the croak in his throat, the lack of spring in his step, the way he slumps into your embrace, in desperate need for a fucking break.
You’d do anything for your man, and right now, you don’t want him to think anymore. You want to empty his brains, clear his mind of stress, ease the worries out of his otherwise strong and sturdy body that’s been withered down mentally. He doesn’t say it explicitly, but you know he wants it. He needs it. 
So, you give it to him. You take control tonight, leading him into the bedroom, coaxing him to relax against the pillows while you do all the work. He could fall asleep this instant if it wasn’t for his pretty plaything performing a private striptease for him. It gives him life to see you naked at the foot of the bed, nipples peaked, eyes wide with lust, removing his own clothes now. You tease the erection growing in his boxers as you shimmy his pants off, palm brushing against the bulge. He sucks in a breath, heart racing with anticipation and excitement, lifting his arms to help you hoist his shirt off. He pulls you in for a kiss, languid and sloppy, letting you explore his mouth. And he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t have to it, especially when his fingers toy with your throbbing clit. He wants a taste of you. That’s what he craves the most when he’s tired like this. 
You straddle his face, lowering yourself slowly until your pussy meets his mouth, his tongue quick to swirl around your clit. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t need to. He likes savoring you like this. Doesn’t have to think about anything else, just his lips on this sweet cunt of yours. And when it begins to be too much for you, he can’t help but smile, finding the smallest boost of energy to squeeze your ass cheeks and bounce you on his face as you approach your orgasm. 
He watches you carefully as you slide down his body, sinking onto his hard cock. He moans, low and guttural, when you rock your hips back and forth on his lap, riding him. The tension in his body has faded, and all he can think about now is how fucking good you feel around him. With his eyes closed, getting lost in the pleasure, he whimpers, “Please.” 
He’s too cute, begging like this. And you don’t have the heart to tease him, something you might do if you were feeling particularly naughty. No, right now, you’re going to give him exactly what he wants, what he needs. You throw your ass back, swallowing his entire length with each stroke, waiting for that euphoric sensation of his cock pulsing inside you, shooting his hot load deep into your womb. 
He's completely drained now as he reaches his arms towards you, what little energy he has left reserved to cuddling you lovingly until he falls asleep, finally at peace. 
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Shouta Aizawa, Choso Kamo, Detective Tsukauchi, Kishibe, Levi Ackerman, Nanami Kento, Reiner Braun + your favorite tired man who needs a fucking break
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succubasz · 10 months
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☆... jerkin' off into your pussy ...
﹒╴content . nsfw written by a minor. wrote this w/ a black reader in mind, but nothing is explicitly stated.
﹒╴a/n . filler post while i work on asks 'n other things.
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no thoughts, just your teasing fav with a tight fist around his cock. he's pantin' heavily, using the slick from your needy pussy to aid his movements.
everything is so shameless 'nd nasty. only the head of his cock is sunk into your pussy, just barely pushing past the tight ring of your entrance. your quiet moans accompany his despite the fact you're terribly empty. though, just the thought of him pushing in and bullying his cock into your heat has you clenchin' around nothing—
he's lettin' out a quiet grunt when he feels just how desperate you are to be filled. fucckk — it's like you're beggin' to be fucked senseless. his resolve doesn't break though, and another hand of his comes to cup his painfully heavy balls. you feel him twitch inside you, still using your cunt to warm the head of his cock as he continues jerking off.
"'m still gonna fill you up with cum," he's stoppin' himself mid sentence with a particularly harsh tug to his cock. there's so much stimulating him right now, but he'd never pass up the chance to tease you. "even with my cock not bein' buried inside that pretty 'lil pussy."
... god, he's so fucking filthy.
you can't help your hips tutting up, or the moan that escapes you at his statement. he's always had a way with his words; and the knowledge on how to get you to throw yourself at him like a whore. even when he's makin' you watch him get himself off, with the help of your cunt.
his hand speeds up and he's giving shallow thrusts into you, barely sinking himself deeper. with his labored breaths, and excessive amount of precum fillin' up your cunt; it's obvious he's getting close.
big hands grip your ankles and push them beside your head. his cock finally, finally sinks all the way into you— and you involuntarily let out a strained gasp at the intrusion.
his pelvis meets yours while he's cumming, and you can feel his pubes rub against your twitchy clit.
"s-shit, pussys' clenching so much— ngh — such a needy thing..." he's not wrong, finally having your cunt filled has you wrappin' around him tightly in a vice. and it's soso tight— milkin' more out of him to the point you can feel his thick cum leaking of you.
he gives one more shallow thrust before pullin' out. slow, heavy pants leave your mouth, you're right back to being empty after finally being filled with cock. (not taking the warm cum deep into you in account </3)
rough fingers ghost along your clit before pushing into your cunt. more cum drips out you while he takes his time moving his digits around your slick pussy. you shoot him a confused look— since he hates when his cum is wasted. a teasing smirk is all you recieve before he replies
"what, babe, thought i'd leave that precious pussy unsatisified...? i'm not that cruel." <3
CHILDE, KAEYA, kaveh, pantalone, GOJO, TOJI, getou, DABI, HAWKS, shigaraki, KISHIBE.
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© 𝐃𝐓𝐇𝐕𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐀. do not copy, modify, or otherwise repost my works to any other sites.
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merakidoll · 11 months
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as a preacher’s wife you are supposed lead an example for the young women in the church, show them how a good wife cares after her husband and praise the ground his feet step. you were utterly embarrassed by your actions, falling prey to a leader of bike club and bar owner. he was was everything you weren’t, dark, hated god, hated church, and most importantly committed many sins. you were no better, riding on the back of his motorcycle and getting on your knees for a man who was far from your husband, slurping up another man cum and letting him stuff your cunt full with his kids. that wasn’t the worse part, the worse part was how you were now pregnant with the biker man’s child letting your husband rub your belly in front of the congregation
— eren yeager, reiner braun nanami kento, geto suguru, gojo satoru, toji fushiguro, kishibe, ken ruuguji, sano manjiro
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chrollohearttags · 11 months
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yeah, yeah. So we know about the men who’ll make you cry during sex and feel remorse for it but let’s talk about the ones who do it and don’t care. I’m talking about the ones who will see you with tears streaming down your face and taunt you for it. The straight bullies in bed..a man who will have you pinned down by your throat, fucking you relentlessly into the mattress. A hand on the banging headboard that occasionally lowers to slap your cheek, telling you to keep it open as he spits into your mouth. He clearly sees how distressed you are from being overstimulated. Thanks in part to both his deep thrusts that kiss the very edge of your cervix with each one and the whirring vibrator he so casually left humming against your clit. He doesn’t care if you scratch his back up, he’ll wear that shit like a badge of honor. If you swat at his abs, he’s only going to laugh and pin them to the bed and when you come, wailing and screaming from how intense it was, it’ll only amuse him. “Daddy, fuck..” “Look at you, crying like a fucking baby..what’s the matter, sweetheart? I thought you could handle it, but I guess not.” Even so, that doesn’t stop shit, he’s still going hard. Rutting his hips into you with rough strokes, causing a bulge in the pit of your tummy. He’s enjoying this far too much..watching you writhe and whimper, knowing that you’ll throw a fit if he pulls out right now. “Too fucking bad, baby. Give me one more. You’re a big girl, act like it..” he’s so sure of it in fact that he grasps the top of your head, tugging it down and forcing you to watch him. Your face is riddled with tears, your entire body is trembling and he’s still going. When you can’t stop, he decides to pacify you by finger fucking your jaws until you choke before smacking you yet again. “Yeah, keep crying..I don’t give a fuck..you beg me for this dick, you better be able to take it.” Practically impaling you on his throbbing cock; the bed rattling around amid the chaos. He always got so aggressive during sex and there was no end in sight for it. Even when you release a shrill cry, clawing at his muscular abs after soaking them in your juices, he’ll let out another maniacal cackle and continue digging you out until you nearly collapse underneath him.
“I love when you cry..gets me so fucking hard.”
══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°
EREN, TOJI, taiju, aomine, ZEKE, kisaki, tsukishima, trafalgar law, kishibe, GRIMMJOW + anyone else you’d like to add
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salaciousdoll · 7 months
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꒷︶ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿ The Salacious Exploits ‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ︶꒷
You’re a girl who was brought into this world with riches. Many thought that you had it all but the act of abandonment done by your father says otherwise. Don’t get it misconstrued though, your father is still alive and in your life just doesn’t even glance your way even when you broke into the famous stadium near your house with your friends, leading to sending you away to boarding school. Boarding School was an experience. Getting through that obstacle only to end up at a nice 4 year University. Easy-peasy for you right? except two and a half years later you’re sent to Private College. You hated your mother for thinking what’s best for you but “The Kaizen of Maria” Private College was a risqué experience, way better than boarding school, am I right? Am I? See how you deal with being with the social classes you don’t usually be in. Hardships, flowing red and orange leaves hitting the ground in the opening season of fall, volleyball practices, majors, sexy instructors and classmates, and finally realization of issues.
Be apprised of the warnings before you read below: smut, heavy smut, plot build-up, angst, heavy angst at the end chapters and maybe beginning too, chubby reader in mind but everyone could read, age gap, reader is in her early 20s( 21-23), tw.taboo, teacher/student relationships, reader could be considered hyper feminine and Bimbo/ditzy, very different and wrong depictions of boarding school( just for the plot), trauma( heavy and light), power dynamic relationships, sex with no relations on one side( yours), large age gaps so please be aware, written with black reader in mind but again everyone could read, volleyball player!reader, fashion major!reader, chubby reader in mind but everyone could read, daddy issues are high here but this in no way to describe it in a sexual manner only( this also goes into depths of it), heavy drug use! But the reader is not doing it just watching + dark content!, threesomes, classroom fucking, under the desk, Pervert reader and some characters, size kink but not major, false!corruption kink, reader is very seductive without even doing anything, body fluids( squirting, creampies, cum on body), mention of the younger cast of each series( not everyone though), Fem!reader, the men and Hange are between the ages of (30-50, so exit out this series if you’re uncomfortable), some fluff here and there, a little self indulgent, small descriptions of body parts( cocks, pussy, hair, etc.), heavy body worship, oral( f & m receiving), mentions of alcohol/parties off campus, strict teachers( Nanami, Erwin, and Levi), toxic!relationships, unrequited love( male wise), modern!au, joint modern au, crossover au!
Characters: Erwin smith, Levi Ackerman, Onyankopon, Hange Zoe, Miche Zacharias, Gojo satoru, Geto suguru, Nanami Kento, Toji Fushiguro, Shiu Kong, Hiromi Higuruma, Keith shadis, Kishibe, Eren Kruger, Principal Yaga, Zeke Yeager, Atsuya Kukasabe, Grisha Yeager, Kenny Ackerman, and Choso Kamo
Wc: tba ( tie it up at the end of the series)
ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ┈•゚Note from Maydayaisha: Thank you to Deja for the pictures/headers, I adore you so much for this because you did this for free and just for your own entertainment, I was so scared to ask you but we up!! 😭 read the warnings carefully everyone. As always, MDNI; 18+ only
Taglist
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。゚•┈୨ CHAPTERS ୧┈• 。゚
i. The opening of Fall 9/19/23
ii. Friends? 10/1/23
iii. You can’t always get what you want 12/16/23
IV. I wouldn’t do a thing like that, that’s for sure! 1/16/24
V. Be my Daddy(1/24/24)
VI. Ridin’
VII. I put you down because I want you
VIII. Slut Pop
IX. Strawberry Pound Cake
X. Thee Five Star Bitch
XI. Cherry Cola
Xll. Ten men on my line tryna fuck me, your daddy’s the biggest spender
XIII. He calls me lavender
XIV. Just wanna have fun’
BONUS CHAPTERS
XV. Holding hands with an bad old man
XVI. Allure
XVII. Wanna know how red taste?
XVIII. Blood Rush Slut
XIX . Candy Necklaces
XX. French Restaurant
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。゚•┈୨ SALACIOUS PLAYLIST ୧┈• 。゚
1. Boarding school- Lana Del Rey 2. Party Girls- Victoria Monet
3. Love Language- Sza 4. Open Arms- Sza ft Travis Scott
5. Mermaid Hotel-Lana Del Rey 6. Girl that got away- Lana Del Rey
7. Go Go Dancer- Lana del Rey 8. Off to the Races- Lana del Rey
9. I’m that girl- Beyoncé 10. Rocket- Beyoncé 11. You can be the boss- Lana del Rey
12. French restaurant- Lana del Rey 13. Fucked my way up to the top- Lana del Rey
14. Attention- doja cat 15. Daddy issues- The Neighborhood
16. Older- Isabel larosa 17. Naughty Girl-Beyoncé 18. Valley of the doll- Marina
19. What was I made for- Billie elilish 20. Baby doll- Mariah Carey
21. The roof- Mariah Carey 22. Body Electric- Lana del Rey
23. All Up In Your Mind- Beyoncé
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Tagging: @chosoist @honeybleed @emomanswhore @simpingfor-wakasa @happygoluckyalexis @mastermindenoshimaalicia @angelshub and if anyone else wants to be tagged in future chapter, fill out the taglist form.
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。゚•┈© all right reserved to salaciousdoll, she does not give permission to steal, plagiarize, and translate.
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ryndicate · 1 year
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Seal It With a Kiss ⨳ Kishibe
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"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
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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.”
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“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.
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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.
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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.”
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1K notes · View notes
shiganshinaslut · 6 months
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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.
415 notes · View notes
sugurizz · 1 year
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𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑-𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏
(SMUT/NSFW +18 - Minors DNI)
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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.
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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…“  
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PART 2 - coming up.
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xxsabitoxx · 1 year
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Experience
Kishibe x Fem! Reader
Warnings: large age gap (reader is in her 20s but it’s unspecified) and Kishibe is 50, car sex, hand job, degrading, praising, smoking
A/N: this was meant to be a short 1-1.5k Drabble but it turned into a mini smut instead (my brain is weird so some of y’all may still consider this a Drabble or you may consider it a full fic… idk man) anywho here he is :)
Word count: 2.6k
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“You… you can’t be serious, oneechan.” Denji was staring at you with an udon noodle hanging between his lips. You chuckled at Denji’s constant use of calling you “big sis” — Aki had reprimanded him forever ago about using formalities with you. You had told him senpai was far too much and that calling you oneechan was fine. Still, it made you chuckle that it was the only nickname he ever stuck too with no bribery needed. Aki still used the gum tactic to get Power and Denji to use the correct terms while addressing him.
“I am serious.” The smile never left your face, watching as Denji slurped his noodle the rest of the way. “But why? He’s so old! Hell he’s over half your age! Ain’t he like 50 or something? And you’re like 20-something? I doubt he can even get his dick hard!” You rolled your eyes, laughter bubbling in your chest as Denji’s clear shock at your crush on his mentor. You’d known Kishibe since you joined public safety a few years prior, having worked alongside Aki when it came to training under the man’s brutal regime.
“Oh I doubt that. Kishibe is a man of experience, he probably has over 30 years worth with women.” Denji still couldn’t see how that would appeal to you, if anything he thought it should be a turn off. “That’s 30 years of use. You’ll probably catch a disease.” At that you couldn’t help but snort, putting your cigarette to your lips and inhaling. “Just think about it for a second, Denji. Wouldn't you want a woman that knows what she’s doing? One that would know how to take care of you?”
“I mean yeah, but maybe a woman that’s only a couple years older than me. You’re going after a man that was well into adulthood by the time you were born.” You shook your head, finding it rather funny that Denji was seemingly peeved by this. “That’s real bold coming from you, Denji-kun.” The blonde quirked his eyebrow, eyeing you suspiciously as he went in for yet another helping. “You and your crush on Makima? The fact that she seems to reciprocate your advances? Kinda a similar situation… but mine is legal.”
You shrugged your shoulders, blowing the smoke you had inhaled. “Yah, whatever… go for your creepy old man then.” He stuck his tongue out as you rolled your eyes, a victorious smile still present on your lips. “No really…” he drawled softly “he’s right there.” You froze, head whipping around to the direction Denji had motioned to. Sure enough, Kishibe was sitting at the bar, a glass of whisky in front of him… typical. You turned back to Denji, utterly mortified. “You don’t think he heard us, do you?” The blonde shrugged, a shit eating grin creeping up his face.
“Denji!” You whisper yelled this time, face growing warm. “Huh?” He spoke a little louder than necessary “I don’t think he heard? What’s the big deal anyways? Ain’t you want him to know? So you can like…actually do something about ya crush?” He drawled loudly, enough to draw a few wandering eyes to your table. “N-not the point! Shut up!” You were snuffing out your cigarettes on the underside of the table seconds later, ready to make a quick escape before Kishibe could even notice you there.
The problem being, you knew your old mentor fairly well. It was more than likely that he was already aware of your presence. Not only that but you were nearly positive he’d probably heard you and Denji talking about him. You wouldn’t be able to escape him unless you put a conscious effort into sneaking out of here. Even then, he’d find a way to corner you and ask you what the hell was going on. “Eh, whatever oneechan… at least I have the guts to go for the people I like.” Now you knew you were done for.
If Denji was going to make this a game of confidence, you’d have to do your “big sister” duties and simply one up him. “You’re a pain in my ass.” You scoffed, watching the grin return to the blonde’s face as you pushed your chair out. “You can thank me later.” Was all he said, returning to his udon as you made your way to the bar. “Captain Kishibe.” You fought to keep your voice steady. Kishibe turned to look at you, the usual stoic expression on his face.
“Come to talk to the creepy old man sitting alone at the bar?” He chimed softly, watching your face morph into embarrassment as he confirmed your biggest fear. He heard everything you and Denji had said. “Blame blondey over there for that nickname. Guessing that if you heard what Denji had to say you also heard what I had to say.” Your arms clasped behind your back, fidgeting with your fingers nervously as you waited for him to speak.
Kishibe swirled his glass around, watching the amber liquid slosh before he brought it to his lips and downed the rest. “Oh, I did. Not that I’m shocked… you’re far more transparent with your emotions than you think you are, y/n.” You could have melted on the spot, seeped straight into the floorboards and disappeared forever. Instead, you shifted your weight from foot to foot, willing yourself to grow some confidence and test the waters. It didn’t seem he was necessarily shutting you down just yet.
“Well… I guess this was a pretty lame ass way of saying I have a thing for my old mentor.” Kishibe leaned back, eyes shutting briefly as he inhaled through his nose. “You’re just looking for someone to show you a good time. Tell me, have you ever actually enjoyed any of the men you’ve slept with?” His eyes opened and he turned to face you fully now, tapping the wooden top of the bar twice to signal that he was ready to pay his tab. “Truthfully, no.” A breathy chuckle left him, one that sent shivers down your spine.
“I see. I guess that would make it my duty, Hmm? Your old mentor has to show you the ropes… show you the good from the bad. A private lesson, if you would.” You didn’t quite know how to react, your brain working in overdrive to try and process the words he had just spoken. “S-so you’re saying you’ll…” you flinched at your own stutter, watching Kishibe eye you carefully. “That I’ll show you how a man properly satisfies a lady? Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying, Sugar.” Your heart jumped at the nickname.
You found it hard to speak, instead you kept your mouth shut and watched your old mentor pay his tab before grabbing his coat off the back of his chair. “I paid for the fool’s meal as well as yours, he’ll get home on his own just fine. Let’s go.” Kishibe was heading towards the door, you waited till he was facing away to shoot Denji a look. The blonde seemed a bit awestruck that you were already leaving with him, you just shrugged as you left. You’d probably have to apologize the next time you saw him.
Before you knew it you were slipping into the passenger side of Kishibe’s car, thanking him softly for opening and closing the door for you. He slipped on the other side a moment later, turning the key so the engine roared to life. “I didn’t think you were the car type.” You commented softly, eyes scanning the amount of gadgets that littered the dashboard. The car’s interior was all black leather, that was at least something you expected from him.
“I’m not but the holiday bonus was nice and I needed an upgrade anyways.” He cracked his window, lighting up a cigarette before pulling out of the restaurant’s small lot and out into the bustling street. You didn’t expect him to be nervous, nor did you expect him to be awkward about the situation. Yet you were practically squirming in your seat, hoping he’d show some sort of nervousness to help you feel less inexperienced.
His cigarette hung half hazardously from his lips, one hand on the wheel while the other came down to rest on your thigh. You nearly choked on your own saliva, heat pooling in your gut at the simple action. “Amuse me, would you? What’s the best thing a guy has done for you, Hmm?” Smoke puffed out around his cigarette, eyes locked on the road as he waited for your response. “Offer to walk me home.” You admitted sheepishly, not quite sure how he’d react to such a lame response. It was true your taste in men hadn’t really benefited you in any way up until now.
He let out a gruff laugh, slowing down as he pulled up to a red light and plucked the cigarette from his lips. “That’s it? Seriously? Where the hell are you finding these bummy men?” You weren’t sure why his clear annoyance affected you the way it did, but you found yourself struggling to not press your thighs together. A small effort to relieve some of the ache, you knew if you moved your legs even a little he’d feel it. Then again, he was driving you back to his apartment to fuck you… would it really matter? “No need to be tense.” He murmured softly, hand squeezing your thigh.
“…’m not tense.” A stupid lie but it made him chuckle so you couldn’t really be mad at it. “Let me help you relax.” The cigarette was back between his lips, hand on the wheel as the light turned green. Kishibe pushed on your thigh, silently asking you to spread them. It took your brain a few seconds to properly respond, spreading them just enough that he could fit his hand between them. “Atta girl…” smoke puffed out around his lips once again, filling your nose in an almost intoxicating way. You were a bit shocked by the praise, nearly letting a whimper slip out.
The man you knew as your mentor was certainly not the same as the man sitting beside you. Then again you doubted he would ever woo the amount of women he did with his mentor attitude. Kishibe’s hand gingerly crept up your thigh before dipping between to cup your panty covered cunt. You mentally thanked yourself for wearing a skirt, giving the man in the driver's seat easy access to where you wanted him the most. He could feel your warmth radiating through the thin material, on top of that he could tell you were already wet.
Kishibe exhaled deeply, forcing himself to remain focused on the road even though he’d really like to look over and gauge your reaction. Truthfully, he had been waiting patiently for quite some time now for you to be the one to make the first move. He wasn’t lying when he said you were transparent with your emotions, but even then he didn’t want to risk creating awkward situations. He was getting old after all, a fifty year old man going for a woman in her twenties would certainly look terrible on his part if the other party didn’t reciprocate.
Maybe he was just a creepy old pervert for thinking that way.
Regardless, it was starting to get hard to ignore the persistent stiffness between his own legs. You’re breathing had hitched, suddenly dizzied by the fact that his hands were already on you. Two fingers pressed against the wetmark on your panties, drawing a sigh from your lips as he rubbed the material softly. “You’re more excited than you let on.” it was an off hand comment, one that had your fingers gripping the door handle to keep yourself grounded. Kishibe’s fingers slid along your slit, settling over your pulsing clit.
“You’ve said no man has ever satisfied you… I take it because he didn’t know where this was…” he pressed down, sending a shock of pleasure through you. Your mouth opened but nothing came out, slowly he began rubbing tentative circles, making sure you keep his fingers on the cloth of your panties. He wouldn’t let you feel his bare fingers just yet. More smoke puffed out, filling the car briefly before being sucked out the window. “I asked you a question, sugar.” you turned to look at him, face warm as his fingers continued to pleasure you. “T-that would be right…”
“Every woman is different, is this good for you?” you knew he was referring to his current action. “Y-yeah but…” you reached for his hand, placing yours over his as you guided him to a faster tempo. Kishibe took the reins again instantly, chuckling softly as you let out a soft moan. “Hmm, that better?” it was low, enough you send shivers through you as your hips jerked into his hand. “Need more…” you couldn’t quite figure out what specifically you needed, you just knew you needed more of him. “I know.” was all he said, fingers working you up continuously as he drove.
Part of you had to wonder if he was even driving you to his apartment at this point. It felt like you were going in circles around the city as he got you off in his front seat. Before you knew it, you felt your orgasm creeping up on you. “S-shit…” you clenched around nothing, the tension in your gut had appeared a lot quicker than usual. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” he teased softly, fingers picking up speed ever so slightly. You mumbled out some sort of ‘yes’, gasping softly as the tension continued to build.
Maybe it was the combination of everything, Kishibe, his hand, the fact that he was doing this almost absentmindedly while driving through the city, everything was edging you on. “Then cum for me. Show me how much of a little slut you are. I mean really, you’re going to cum from me rubbing you through your panties. You’ll ruin them.” You whined at his words, the tension building so intensely that you were certain you’d fall apart. “Atta girl…cum for me” encouraged again, rolling to a stop at yet another red light.
He looked over at you know, the sudden motion causing you to turn to look at him. “C’mon… no need to hold back.” he sneered, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. You felt your lower lip tremble, head turning to look back at the road as your orgasm crashed down over you. Breathless gasps escaped your lips, hand shooting down to hold Kishibe’s wrist as he continued to work you through your ogasm. “…ough… enough…” you squeaked, overstimulation taking over as the light turned green.
He only slowed because of the light turning green, hand never retracting from where it was between your legs. “Here we are.” He commented offhand, pulling into the parking lot of his apartment building. You blinked, the throb already returning. “Hope you’re not worn out… I haven’t even gotten to show you a proper good time.” He pulled into a numbered space, shifting into park and plucking the nearly gone cigarette from his lips. You watched him put it out on an ashtray in his cup holder, turning the car off a moment later.
“Well?” You shivered as his hand pulled away, making you want to chase after him. “Y-yeah…I’m not worn out. Hell, after your training it’s hard to ever get worn out these days…captain.” You teased softly, not knowing where the confidence came from. A smile actually tugged at his lips, hand reaching for the door handle and pushing it open. “I’ll remember that, sugar.” For some reason, you felt as if you had just dug your own grave.
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pin-k-ink · 8 months
Text
Men who come inside you because they ‘don’t want to ruin the sheets’. Grips your hips as hard as he can, driving their cock inside you until it kisses your womb. Will not waste a drop of his precious seed, because why would he waste it when he has you to take it all. Definitely fucks his cum back inside you if it ever seeps out. The type to cum inside you multiple times to make sure that it takes. Goes for at least 5 (or more) rounds until you can’t feel your legs. Absolutely doesn’t feel guilty when you can’t walk the next morning.
“So fucking perfect for me - fuck! M’ gonna put a baby in you, okay? You want that, don’t you? Want me to stuff you full and get you knocked up?”
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Gojo, Byakuya, Hisoka, Oikawa, Kishibe, Abbacchio, Toji, Dabi, Grimmjow, Illumi, Fyodor, Chrollo, Daichi, Kuroo, Nnoitra, Dazai
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daisynik7 · 4 months
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Cure for a Hangover
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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
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It’s not often that you’re met with a man slumped against your door, but here you are, staring down at your next-door neighbor, Kishibe, doing just that. 
It’s past two in the morning now, and you’ve just come back from your own night out with your friends. You’re not nearly as drunk as you were three hours ago, after pounding glasses of Chardonnay while watching cheesy romance movies at your best friend’s apartment. And you’re certainly not as inebriated as the man before you, who absolutely reeks of liquor, even from a small distance away. 
You inspect the scene thoroughly, unsure what to do in this scenario. Kishibe is basically a stranger to you. Sure, you’ve exchanged basic pleasantries here and there over that past year since you moved in. That’s as far as it goes. You have no idea what his profession is, though you have a solid guess as to what it could be, given his work attire and overall physique. While you’ve never run into one yourself, devils run rampart in Tokyo, hell-bent on causing chaos wherever they spawn. Kishibe looks like a Devil Hunter, whose job is to eliminate these monsters. It’s intriguing, that’s for sure, but you’ve never mustered the courage to ask him about it, leaving him to maintain his mysterious demeanor. 
However, right now, you don’t see a Devil Hunter in front of you. Instead, it’s a simple man who is very drunk and very much in your way.
Deciding to help him, because that’s the only choice you have if you want to get into your apartment, you kneel down to search his overcoat, patting the breast pocket for keys. When you find nothing, you move to his pants, retrieving only his phone. His eyes are closed and he’s snoring, blissfully unaware of your predicament in his drunken stupor. You take this time to study his face. He’s looks much older up close; not only that, he’s even more handsome than you originally thought. There’s a prominent scar running from his mouth to his jaw, surely an interesting story behind it. You’re tempted to trace it delicately with your finger, but you ultimately resist the urge, snapping out of it to investigate his phone for any clues. 
There are several missed calls and texts from a person named Kenji. You use the Face ID feature to unlock his phone, thanking the universe that even with his eyes shuts, it works. Not wanting to pry more than necessary, you check the most recent texts for the answer to your question: Where the hell are his keys?
Kenji: you left your keys at the bar, come back now. I’m closing up soon
Kenji: I’m not waiting for your ass
Kenji: I’m leaving, get them tomorrow
You read over the messages once more, groaning quietly to yourself at your dumb luck. Desperate now, you resort to the next logical step.
“Hey,” you say, tapping him lightly on the cheek, rousing him awake. “Kishibe.”
Slowly, but surely, he opens his eyes, half-lidded, struggling to focus on you. “Huh?” His breath is heavy with liquor, most likely whiskey. His voice is deep and gravelly, and you hate admitting that’s it’s almost sexy. Well, not almost. It is sexy. 
Letting the inappropriate thought fade, you say, “You’re at the wrong apartment. This is mine.”
He blinks three times, opening his eyes properly to stare at you, expression confused. “Am I dead?”
You bite your lip, holding back laughter. “No, you’re not.”
“Am I in heaven?”
You shake your head, repeating, “No, you’re not.”
“Then why is there any angel here with me?” He sounds sincere, and you can’t help but break out into a genuine smile. 
“I’m not an angel,” you reply, giggling. 
His lips curve into a cocky grin. “You sure? You look like one to me.” Cheeky bastard, hitting on you while he’s plastered. And look at you, finding it endearing when he does. 
Slightly more relaxed, you slide the phone into his breast pocket, standing up to unlock your door. You can’t just leave him out here all night, so you decide to let him stay with you until he’s sober enough to call a locksmith. You jiggle the keys, turning the knob to open the door, and suddenly, there’s a loud thud, and then a delayed, “Ow.” He’s laid flat in the middle of your doorway, hitting his head on the hardwood. You feel guilty, not having the foresight to see this coming. His body is much sturdier than you anticipated. 
You kneel down, apologizing. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
He winces, rubbing the back of his skull, then gives you a goofy smile. “I’ll be fine. Think I can get a kiss to make it feel better?”
You roll your eyes at him, once again unable to contain your laughter. “I’ll get you some ice. Let’s get you to the couch first, okay?”
Somehow, some way, whether it’s spurred by adrenaline or desperation to finally get some sleep in your own bed, you manage to haul him up by the armpits and drag him the short distance to your couch. You fluff a pillow and place it under his head, making it as comfortable as possible for him. “I’ll get the ice now.”
Before you can stand up, he grabs your wrist, gripping you tightly. “What about my kiss?”
“Nope. Not happening. I bet you don’t even know my name,” you challenge him.
He doesn’t respond, loosening his hold so you can get up. You fill a plastic bag with ice, returning to surround the back of his head with it. Eventually, he utters your name, eyes closed while he relaxes to your touch. He peeks at you with one eye open, waiting for you to confirm. 
You nod, grinning. “So, you do know my name.”
“Can I get my kiss now?” he teases, gazing at you.
You shake your head. “Definitely not. I will not take advantage of a drunk person, that’s fucked up.”
He sighs, exhaling deeply, broad chest rising and falling. “Yeah, you’re right. I knew you were a good girl.”
You try not to hang on to those words, especially the last two, already fluttering below your belly over it. Grabbing his hand to replace yours, you instruct him to keep it there while you return to the kitchen to pour him a large glass of water. Within the short amount of time you’re gone, he falls asleep, his hand barely holding onto to the ice pack. 
You smile to yourself, setting the glass of water down on the coffee table to continue attending to his minor injury. After a while, when you notice that there isn’t any bump or swelling developing, you stop icing him. He snores peacefully in a deep sleep, no sign of waking up anytime soon. As gingerly as you can, you remove his overcoat, draping it over the back of the couch. You set his phone next to the glass of water, for easy access. His tie looks tight around his collar, so you loosen it. Finally, you remove his shoes from his feet, laying them by the front door near your own pair. You’re certain he’ll wake up in the morning, feeling like shit, so you place a bottle of painkillers by his phone in case he needs them. 
It's past three now by the time you’re dressed down in your pajamas and snuggled in bed. You keep the door ajar, listening to Kishibe’s steady breathing in the living room, treating it like white noise to help you fall fast asleep. 
~~~
Kishibe wakes up with his head throbbing. He stares up at the ceiling, not recognizing it as his own. It doesn’t take long for him to realize that this isn’t his apartment. 
He turns, seeing his phone, a glass of water, and a bottle of painkillers on the coffee table arm’s reach of him. Slowly, he sits up, grimacing from the pain, downing all the water in three large gulps. He checks his phone, thankfully still on its last leg of battery. It’s almost eleven on a Saturday morning and he’s sure Kenji, his bartender friend, is already awake, preparing for the day. 
“Kenji,” he mutters, throat hoarse from last night’s festivities. 
His friend first berates him for forgetting his keys, then laughs when Kishibe explains that somehow, some way, he managed to fall asleep on someone else’s couch. He could have woken up in worst conditions, that’s for sure. 
Kenji agrees to stop by after running his errands, in about two hours or so. Beggars can’t be choosers, so Kishibe has no choice but to wait. When they’re phone conversation is over, he sinks back into the cushions, trying to piece everything together from just a few hours ago. He recalls snippets of it, and he grows increasingly embarrassed as the memories play vividly in his brain. He’s certain he called his neighbor an angel, and even more sure that he was begging her for a kiss. How shit-faced was he to compel him to do that? Obviously, very. How could he let his intrusive thoughts blurt out of his mouth like that?
Call it cliché or whatever, but yes, Kishibe is attracted his young, pretty neighbor next door. However, he’s held off on making a move because he doesn’t want to make things between them awkward. Once he crosses that line, their relationship gets more complicated. And the devil knows that Kishibe doesn’t do complicated. So, he’s content with gazing from afar, exchanging basic small talk with one another whenever they pass each other in the hallway. That’s as far as it’s gone with her, and that’s as far as it will go. 
Of course, that’s all fucked up now thanks to his drunken antics from last night. 
Before he can make his move, he hears a bedroom door creak open from behind him. She comes out, looking fresh out of the shower, dressed in skimpy pajama bottoms that are short enough to expose that tantalizing curve right below her ass. Surely, she’s doing this on purpose, right? She has to know how fucking sexy she looks right now, there’s no way she doesn’t. 
He clears his throat, preparing to explain himself right off the bat to avoid an awkward confrontation. But he’s rendered momentarily speechless when she flashes a bright smile at him. “Morning, Kishibe.”
He huffs out a short laugh. “Morning.”
She steps towards him, sitting at the opposite end of the couch by his feet. Her shorts ride up and he’s sure he can see the lacey outline of her panties. Or maybe it’s just his perverse imagination, who knows at this point. “How are you feeling?” she asks, genuinely concerned.
He grunts. “Like shit,” he answers. “But it could be worse.”
“That’s the spirit,” she teases, patting his knee. 
His head pounds from his hangover, though it’s his heartbeat that thumps loudly against his eardrums, aroused by her touch. He has got to control himself. Doing his best to distract her from the raging boner growing beneath his slacks, he asks, “What happened last night?”
She explains her account of the evening in detail, her voice soft and soothing, cautious of his current headache. She leaves out the parts where he embarrasses himself, which he’s grateful for, not wanting to relive the humiliation. When she’s done, she offers, “If you want, you can take a shower while you wait for your friend to arrive. I can get you some towels. I even have a toothbrush you can use.”
He raises a brow at her. “Are you trying to tell me I stink?”
“Do you need someone to tell you that you stink? I thought it was pretty obvious given the state you’re in,” she quips, matching his expression.
He laughs, genuinely amused by her response. “Yeah, can’t argue with that.”
She leads him into her bathroom, showing him how to work the knob for hot water, pointing out the shampoo, conditioner, and soap kept neatly on a corner shelf of her bathtub. She lingers for a bit while he starts the shower, then hands him a clean towel and new toothbrush. “Let me know if you need anything.” 
Surprisingly, he makes it through his shower without succumbing to the temptation to touch himself. As degenerate as he can be, he still has some sense of respect and pride in him, enough to resist masturbating in his neighbor’s shower. He does, however, give her shampoo and conditioner bottles an extra-long sniff.
He dries off, scrubbing his hair with the towel, cleaning behind his ears with cotton swabs, checking his piercings. Towel wrapped around his waist, he brushes his teeth, making sure to go the full two minutes, scrubbing his tongue after. He hasn’t made the best impression so far, so he figures he should try to change that now, if there’s still a chance. Feeling fresh and clean, he stares down at his clothes in a pile on the floor. Even from where he stands, he can smell them, almost like they’ve been diluted in liquor and musk. Without thinking, he steps out of the bathroom, calling out her name. “Got any clothes I could borrow?”
She’s in the kitchen when he comes out, leaning over the stove as she cooks something that smells wonderful. She turns to face him, staring wide-eyed as he stands almost naked in the middle of her living room. Her gaze drifts down his bare body, lingering on his sculpted abs, then at the towel wrapped precariously around his waist. She snaps out of it in time, saying, “I don’t. Sorry.”
“My clothes fucking stink and I don’t want to wear them right now. Mind if I just walk around like this?” 
“Sure. I mean, I don’t mind.” She focuses her attention back to the pan, continuing to cook what looks like scrambled eggs. 
He knows this is a bizarre request, though this day couldn’t get any more bizarre than it already is, can it?
~~~
You’re not exactly sure how to refuse Kishibe’s request to walk around half naked in your apartment, so instead, you agree to it, claiming that you don’t mind. In actuality, you mind very much, simply because you can’t help but fantasize about the delicious sight beneath the towel. One wrong move like a bump to the hip is all it takes to see that pesky cover fall down. Geez, when did you become such a pervert? And for an old man?!
Desperate for a distraction, you maintain focus on the eggs in front of you. While he was in the shower, you decided to start breakfast, something hearty to combat that hangover of his. Scrambled eggs, toast, and sausage, comforting foods to soak up the remaining alcohol left in his body. He makes his way towards you, scooting a chair out from the table to take a seat. He strategically maneuvers himself to not accidentally expose you, though you really don’t mind if he does. Again, perverted thoughts, shame on you!
Finished cooking, you scoop the eggs out onto his plate and the other meant for you. He thanks you, taking a whiff of his breakfast, a small smile on his face. “Smells good.”
You pass him another glass of liquid, this one filled with an electrolyte drink meant for hydration after a night of drinking. “Drink this. It’ll help with your hangover.”
He eyes it suspiciously, then takes a gulp without questioning it further. 
The two of you eat in a comfortable silence, ignoring the obvious tension hanging in the air. From your peripheral, you notice the glint of steel hooked to his ear lobe. Piercings, which you never noticed before. Sexy.
He ends up finishing his entire meal, popping a few painkillers to chase it all down. He even chugs the electrolyte drink, claiming it isn’t so bad. While you take the last few bites of your toast, he excuses himself to brush his teeth again. You’re surprised at how hygienic he is, considering how he appeared before you just mere hours ago, hunched against your front door covered in his own liquor-soaked sweat. You take the plates, stacking them in the sink to wash for later. How much longer is his friend going to take to arrive here? You’re getting nervous, thinking of other ways to fill this gap of time without making your attraction to him so obvious. 
You sit on the couch, turning the TV on to a random sitcom with the volume low, listening to the rush of water from the faucet inside the bathroom. When it stops, you try to find a comfortable position to sit in. It’s only now that you realize how short your pajama bottoms are; they ride all the way up your thighs and you can practically see your underwear through them. It’s too late to change when Kishibe returns, still clad in just a towel, taking a seat on the other side of the couch a safe distance beside you. It’s silent for a brief moment, neither of you knowing what to say in this odd situation. You shift nervously, tugging at the hem of your shorts. 
“Thank you,” he starts, avoiding your gaze, staring ahead at the television. “For taking care of me. Must have been annoying to deal with a drunken old man.”
You smile, relaxing. “It wasn’t so bad. Besides, I couldn’t just leave you out there like that. Someone could have taken advantage of you.”
“Like you almost did?” he smirks, facing you now.
Laughing, you meet his gaze. “You remember that?”
“I do.” He spreads his legs apart just barely, towel draped dangerously over his knee, almost ready to slip.
You swallow hard, avoiding a glance in that direction, heat surrounding your cheeks. “Well, I was a good girl, remember? I didn’t do anything.”
He hums, nodding slowly, eyes drilling into yours. “You were a very good girl.”
Your breath hitches and you find yourself gravitating towards him, scooting closer. He grins, the scar on his cheek curving with it, voice low and seductive. “You gonna be bad for me now?”
“Only if you want me to,” you purr, sliding your hand beneath the towel, up his thigh, arousal pooling between your legs. Fuck it. He wants it, you want it. There’s no denying it anymore. 
“Fuck,” he swears under his breath, pulling you in for a kiss. His mouth is cool and minty against yours, the remnants of toothpaste lingering in his spit. You slurp it up, hungry for any taste of him. He removes the towel from his waist, shrugging it to the floor, leaving him completely naked. You glance at his lap and bite back a moan, amazed at how fucking big he is, way too eager to have him inside you, desperate to be filled to the brim.
“Not bad for an old man, huh?” he chuckles, wrapping his fist around the shaft, stroking it.
“Not bad at all,” you smile, stripping out of your clothes hastily, kneeling between his legs with your mouth open.
He feeds you his cock, humming when you surround him in your wet heat, swallowing him to the hilt. One hand grips the back of your head, guiding you gently up and down his shaft. “You’re filthy, taking your neighbor’s cock like this. Who knew you’d be such a slut?” he mutters, caressing the side of your face with his other hand. “Touch yourself while I fuck this filthy mouth. Get that pretty pussy wet for me.”
You obey, spurred on by his vulgarity, reaching for your arousal, rubbing your throbbing clit with fast fingers. His cock hits the back of your throat and you guzzle him down to resist gagging, drool leaking from the sides of your lips. He moans, bucking his hips slightly, enraptured by you. With his thumb, he brushes away a tear welling at the corner of your eye, pulling out halfway. “Don’t hurt yourself, kiddo. It’s okay if I’m too much for you.”
You release him completely, moving down to his balls, nuzzling your nose to them. “I can take it, don’t worry.”
He clicks his teeth, beckoning you on the couch, almost like you’re being scolded for something you weren’t supposed to do. You roll your eyes, sitting beside him begrudgingly. He leans close to you, hot on your ear, one hand sliding between your legs while the other continues to stroke his dick. “I want to touch you too. That okay?”
You whine in response, tugging him in for a passionate kiss. He massages deep circles around your clit, fingers squelching from your slick gathering along your entrance. “I want a taste,” he growls, splitting apart your thighs, staring at your glistening cunt. 
You nod, sinking into the couch, relinquishing all control to him. You let your pleasured moans speak for you as he dives into your pussy, eating you out sloppily. His facial hair grazes against you with each careful stroke of his tongue and you ache to see his chin shiny with your cum. Eventually, he slips inside you, pumping two digits in and out, mouth still working your bud. Soon, it becomes too much and you’re gushing for him, whimpering his name with ragged breaths, soaking his face in your essence. 
He chuckles, the vibrations resonating to your clit, causing you to twitch with overstimulation. “That’s my girl, making such a mess for me.”
“Fuck me, Kishibe,” you breathe out, craving to be stuffed full of him. You’re reeling from your high, and if he’s not inside you soon, you’re sure you’ll go insane.
He hoists you up onto his lap, precum oozing from the tip of his dick. “How about you fuck me? Show me how much of a slut you are.”
Too fucked out to argue, you lift up on your knees, position him to your wet hole, sinking down slowly. He slides in easily, pussy sleek from your previous orgasm. It’s better than you imagined, every inch of him stimulating every inch of you. You savor it, rocking against him slowly. He kisses along on your neck, trailing to your nipples to suckle on them. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he moans, thrusting up into you to match your rhythm. “Take this cock however you like. It’s all yours.”
You bounce on him faster, whimpering into his mouth as you kiss him. He palms your ass cheeks, squeezing them in his firm grip, delivering a few loud smacks that echo off the walls of your living room, stinging your skin. “Fuck, I knew you were a good girl. Knew it the moment I met you,” he growls, pressing his thumb to your swollen clit. “Always wanted you like this.”
You kiss him harder at his confession, your chest swelling, pussy fluttering. You’re approaching another climax, teetering on the edge. As if he senses it, he tightens his hold on you, fucking into you faster, deeper. “Come for me, angel. Come on this cock.”
And you do, clenching him with your orgasm, making him mutter, “Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming with you.” He shoots his load inside you, filling you up, just like you wanted. 
It takes a moment for the two of you to catch your breaths, relaxing into each other’s arms, exchanging soft kisses without speaking. You study his face again, similar to how you did just several hours before, when he was slumped against your door, drunk. You thought he was handsome then, even more so now. “How’s your hangover?” you ask, breaking the silence. 
He smiles, nuzzling his nose to yours. “Much better.”
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kaeddehara · 1 year
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Hello, I just wanted to tell you that I absolutely LOVED your chainsaw man one shots. They were all sooo good and it left me wanting more. Sending this in as a request for more Aki and maybe some Kishibe if you want???
yes of course thank you for the request !!
i wrote for both aki and kishibe but a lot more heavy on aki so eat up
aki + kishibe nsfw
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aki <3
[ exhibitionism, implied smoking kink, reader is desperate <333, breeding kink, oral sex, ]
i see aki as a very simple yet intimate kinda guy. he loves the easy, domestic parts of loving you while also making sure to know it’s about you. i see him as a service top for sure, always preferring to make you feel good above all else. though, aki is willing to take risks whether that be with or without your influence. so the times you get him worked up at his office and he locks the door to fuck you nice to hard in are with your influence. while the times he comes home and sees you cooking a nice meal for him and can’t help but to want to take you then and there on the kitchen counter to show how much he missed you.
has a big thing for you being desperate for him too. like sitting down after a long day as he takes deep drags of his cigarette. meanwhile you’re sitting pretty on your knees while you fumble with his belt, whining as it won’t come undone. he takes notice of your struggle and holds back the urge to make a comment on how desperate you seem. you whine out to him, “please aki i’ve waited for this all day.” and his mind snaps to you and only you. putting his cigarette out, he slides his hips down and begins undoing his belt buckle for you while you grip and paw at his thighs show how impatient you are. and with that, aki tears down his pants and practically forces your pretty mouth on his hard cock.
for aki, smoking became something that he frequently would find himself doing whenever he’d need a break from work or just his busy life in general. when he comes home from a mission all he wants to do is have a smoke and be in bed with you. this may lead to aki including this form of relief and being with you. often times hell find himself sitting on a comfortable spot on a couch in your shared apartment, still dressed in his uniform from work. tie loosely undo and white dress shirt wrinkled and messy. in between his lips is a lit cigarette and his dark blue eyes focused down on you, all on you. your pretty lips wrapped so sensually around his thick, reddened tip. with the feeling of the nicotine working itself into his body and the feeling of your warm, wet mouth wrapped around him, aki couldn’t ask for more. except, he couldn’t stand the thought of not knowing what your skin would look like with a marking from his cigarette. even making you open your pretty mouth so he can tap the end of his cigarette off and watch the burnt excess on your pretty tongue. he’d praise you in return for it as well, making sure you knew he was grateful for everything you did for him <3.
for aki, starting a family of his own was never a priority. as a devil hunter, it’s a priority to protect the lives of innocent civilians, often times putting himself in extremely risky and dangerous situations. he knows that having a family of his own means he needs to be there, but while he continues devil hunting, it’s best to just wait. he’d worry he might disappear before he can take care of you and his child. but the feeling of your sweet pussy gripping him so tightly and sucking him in with every bounce made it so hard. not only that, but the way you’d beg for him to cum inside you, practically pleading for more after his first load had started to leak out of you. aki couldn’t resist. “what a mess…” he’d pant out, looking at all the smeared cum you pushed out as it dripped between your legs.
°°°°
kishibe <3
[ rough kishibe <33, light bondage, spanking, size kink, implied breeding kink ]
kishibe is a lot more rough around the edges not only when it comes to his relationship with you but how he fucks you too. his pacing his deep and rough but his voice is so soothing and brings you back to him. he could be fucking you at the most unimaginable pace while whispering in your ear how good your taking him.
playing into the roughness idea, imagine how into spanking and marking kishibe would be. like i just know this man can’t wait to punish you for doing one thing wrong. you decided to tease him while he was on a mission? be ready to get bent over his lap and spanked till your ass is bright red. hell even bother to soothe over your soft flesh with his callused hands and shush you down. maybe if he thought you were deserving of even more punishment, he’d take his belt off and tie your wrists with it, watching you squirm and try to break it off to no avail. he honestly loves watching you struggle cause it’s so cute seeing how desperate you get when you don’t get him immediately.
also you cannot convince me he doesn’t have a size kink. no matter your height, he’s going to find a way to make you feel small. whether that be by holding you against him or just pressing himself against you when he knows you’re busy.
humiliation is something i think kishibe would absolutely go crazy for and indulges you in his sick kink whenever he feels it’s opportune.
“yeah? what are you?”
“i’m yours kishibe..”
he’ll pull harder on you, repeating his first line in a more demanding and serious tone. watching you struggle beneath his strength as you still soon after.
“i’m your slut kishibe!”
“yeah that’s more like it, good girl”
he just loves using you as a little play thing. oh, and when he comes on tired or stressed out from the day, he’s gonna take it all out of your pretty pussy till you’re crying and leaking with his cum <3.
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dejwrites · 1 year
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀─── ⠀ ⠀⠀ oh sugar⠀ 〳 ⠀ kishibe ‵
❪ ♡ ❫ ─── ( synopsis ) give him some sugar as your tiffany diamond necklace twinkle under the stars
♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — reader discretion is advised: female reader, female anatomy described, written with black reader in mind, her/she pronouns, told in third pov, sugar baby!reader, sugar daddy!kishibe, canon age kishibe, age gap, kishibe is old money rich, exhibitionism, riding position, fingersucking, oh no the sugar daddy falls first trope, does it in his porche boxster, usage. of spit, mentions of kishibe giving reader a hickey, age jokes (nothing too serious and bad), mentioned of kishibe being married (but he got divorced), a l bomb is dropped, quanxi mentioned, mention of quanxi flirting with reader, kishibe spoil reader, luxury au, let's just pretend gambling legal in japan lol, word count: tba
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IF Y/N LOOKED CLOSE ENOUGH, SHE COULD SEE HER PRETTY REFLECTION IN THE SIDE OF THE BLACK PORCHE BOXSTER. The full moon twinkled down on the pair as they leaned against the front of the car staring at the skyline that overlooked the Roppongi district. From the view of where 50-year-old Kishibe stood, he could see the bright lights that lit up the casino he owned. He was positive that people were still gambling their lives away, helping his bank account grow and helping fund his gorgeous sugar baby's expensive lifestyle. A person looking in from the outside would assume that Y/N was swindling him out of his money. He always let out a sonorous laugh at that. It wasn't really their business, but at the same time, he didn't mind.
If Kishibe could give Y/N the fuckin' stars out of the sky himself—he would in a heartbeat. He didn't understand what overcame him to just throw his money at the woman, but he just did. His closest friend Quanxi liked to joke that he was in love and (dumb). 'Cause what sugar daddy fall for their sugar baby?
He didn't believe Quanxi at first. Kishibe didn't do well with relationships because of his wealth. Money changes everyone, so obviously, it would make any logical women that adored Jimmy Choo heels and Chanel purses pussy wet for his money—not him. But why was she so different?
"Did you hear what I said?"
Her voice interrupts his thoughts before he shakes his head, "Sorry, what did you say?"
"It was nice meeting Quanxi and her girlfriends. They were so nice." Y/N sighs happily before she's taking a sip out of Kishibe's flask.
Kishibe chuckled at her statement. "If I didn't approach you in time, you would have been the fifth girlfriend because she was flirting with you."
"I may have taken her up on her offer." Y/N elbows Kishibe's side jokingly.
The crisp breeze swirls around the two, and he watches the young woman shiver under the tailored suit jacket over her shoulders. Kishibe stood up fully from sitting on the hood of his Porche, "Are you ready to go home? I don't want to keep you out so late." His hand reaches over to tug his jacket further on her frame.
He knew there were better times to come to their secret place, considering the weather & the two attire. He didn't want her to get sick because he needed to escape his casino's obnoxious and overbearing crowd.
With his hand collecting hers to attempt to warm it up in the Fall nightly weather, he watches her smile before shaking her head. "No, I want to see the stars." Y/N breaks eye contact with him to glance up at the stars, winking down at them.
She let go of his hand to walk around the car to climb back into it. Kishibe follows, getting into the driver's side, and his eyes glance up at the stars. Like the diamond necklace around Y/N's neck, the stars danced across the dark sky like they were waltzing on a dance floor. Kishibe's eyes glanced over to stare at the beauty on the passenger side.
Y/N felt his eyes drilling a hole in her body. Despite the chilly weather, his stare made her feel hot all other. She sunk further in her seat before her eyes traveled to the older gentleman. "What?" She asks, her head innocently tilting.
Maybe, Quanxi was right. He was dumb and in love. There Kishibe was staring at the beauty next to him as her brown skin illuminated against the little light the moon gave the two. His head resting on the steering wheel of his car with his lip caught up in his teeth—completely love-struck.
"It's nothing." His lips curve into a sly grin before he lifts his head and glances ahead.
He could hear her shuffling to move closer. He knew because he could smell that intoxicating floral perfume she used.
"Tell me." She says as soon as he turns to look at her.
"It's nothing, sweetheart." Kishibe lets out a happy sigh. He extended his arms, so his right arm rested behind her seat. "Just admiring how beautiful you look tonight."
Y/N kicks off her heels so she can fully turn in her seat. If Kishibe's mind was in the gutter—he would assume that she was about to lean over and give him head under the luminous moon. Instead, she's leaning in closer to kiss his lips.
"Thank you, old man." She pecks his lips quickly. "I really enjoyed spending time with you tonight." with each word that rolled off her tongue, she kissed Kishibe's lips, staining them with lipgloss.
With each kiss, Kishibe could feel his cock twitch in the three hundred thousand yen-priced tailored pants. He could blame his soon-to-be actions on the alcohol from his shiny silver flask and the clouding feeling of possibly falling in love. He could pass up the moment to make her feel good, so he took the leap.
The kiss got heated, spit was swapped, and minutes later, Y/N was in his lap without care that any car could pull up and interrupt their moment.
Kishibe chose the wrong car to want to have a quickie in. However, that's what made the moment so hot, so intimate. With the fusion pink strapless dress pushed up around her waist and her hips grinding against Kishibe's crotch like a cat in heat, it drove the older gentleman insane, completely feral even. His tongue traces alongside her plump lip gloss-covered lips, begging for a taste of the lemon drop cocktails she drank tonight. But he knew his little sugar baby too well for her to give him a taste so easily. She was a tease, and she knew it. She knew what she was doing when she left the house in the attire she picked out. It was just a ploy to tease him from the beginning.
The dress was short for times like this for him to push it up and slide her panties to the side (when he brought her a new designer bag, those were the nights she chose to not wear any at all). It hugged her silhouette like a tight-fitted latex glove to show off her dips and curves—just like Kishibe liked it. It was a bright fusion color because it perfectly highlights her golden complexion to have heads turn in the casino. Lastly, strapless to give Kishibe better excess for him to kiss her smooth skin.
Kishibe broke the kiss quickly when he realized that he could cause her to whimper for him in another way. His lips dragged kisses across her sculptured jawline before going down to her neck. The sweet floral scent of Y/N lingered up his nostrils and when he smelt her—his grip on her grew tighter. He kissed her right on her left breast and felt her giggle because she knew what was next.
"You're too old to be giving me those things," She jokes to him as her fingers comb through the strands of grey on his head. Despite her complaining about him giving her the scandalous hickey, her eyes are shifted closed, and a furtive grin is on her face.
The swelling feeling on her skin caused Y/N to pull back. Her back hit the steering wheel, causing it to honk the horn. She muttered an apology for interrupting such a moment as her panties were growing soaked, and she craved Kishibe's cock. Once more, Kishibe's staring at her as if she's the brightest and most expensive jewel in a jewelry store. His hand cups her face before he lets the pad of his thumb brush against her lip.
"Y/N..." He pauses, and his eyes light up, watching her mouth teasingly latch onto his thumb.
"Hm," She answers, giving him a wink before releasing his thumb with a pop.
And here, Kishibe's L bomb got stuck in his throat as he's quickly urging her to lift up so he could undo his pants. His cock throbbed to feel her wet walls clutch around him as tightly as the expensive dress on her body. Y/N didn't complain. Her hands are even shuffling to help him undo his pants. The sigh of relief from Kishibe was like music to Y/N's ears when she saw him push down his bottoms enough for his fat cock to spring out. It stood straight, with its tip glistening with precum from its slit.
Kishibe grabbed hold of the back of Y/N's neck to embrace her in one last harsh, gritty kiss. This time, he didn't wait for her to teasingly not let his tongue shove in her mouth. His tongue already intertwined with hers as his money-making hand propelled her hips to rock against his hardened cock. Kishibe cruelly pulls away from the kiss just in time for Y/N to get into it, and with their lips barely touching—he whispers, "Go ahead and sit on it, baby. I know you want to."
His hand was released from her body before he brought his hand up to her mouth. "Spit."
Y/N lips curve into. smirk before she collects a pool of saliva to let dribble in his hand. Her hand grasped the back of the headrest behind his head as she anticipated his thick cock finally indulging in her drooling cunt. Kishibe stroked his hardened cock, completely coating it with Y/N's saliva. He guides his cock towards Y/N's pussy, his tip brushing against her entrance, completely teasing her. He leaned to kiss her neck as Y/N sank further on his cock. "Take your time. I'm right here, sweetheart."
"It's just s'much, Kishibe." Y/N breathes out, her thighs quivering at the sudden stretch done by Kishibe's cock.
His manicured fingers dance along her sides, and he chuckles at her statement.
"Not so much of an old man now, huh?"
"Still old." Y/N jokes.
Kishibe chuckles before he grabs her hips and slams her on his cock. He didn't wait for another snarky comment while guiding her on his cock. Y/N head fell back in complete bliss as she moaned out Kishibe's name. Her hips bucked to meet Kishibe's guidance on his cock—the sensational feeling driving the two over the edge. With the car rocking due to their movement and Y/N's diamond pendant tapping at Kishibe's nose as she was riding him—Kishibe wanted the evening to end with Y/N cumming on his cock.
The lewd sound of heated skin slapping against each other was like music to Kishibe's ears. The grasp on Y/N grew tighter because Kishibe didn't want it to end. He didn't want to go without his cock feeling the way your cunt clenched around him.
"Shit." He utters breathlessly under his breath.
He looked in awe, watching the way Y/N jounced upon his cock. Her head sprang back as she moaned out Kishibe's name. His large hands traveled down to her waist to help her movements gracefully. His gloomy eyes traveled down between the gap of their heated bodies to gaze at how his cock disappeared into Y/N's drooling cunt.
"So close." Y/N voice cracks while riding Kishibe.
"Go ahead and cum, love. You've earned it." Kishibe says through groans.
Y/N never came so hard. She and Kishibe have had sex countless times, but this time was different. It was as if the two of you were expressing a feeling you wanted to express so severely in the moment's bliss. It didn't take long for Kishibe to follow right behind you. His thrusting upward became sloppy to mimic the overstimulation of Y/N's cunt pulsing around him. He leaned in to kiss Y/N's swollen lips to wrap the loving moment with a bow.
As the moment was dying down and Y/N's head fell to lay on Kishibe's chest, she let out a happy sigh attempting to regain control of her limp legs. She could hear Kishibe's heartbeat and her lips parted to say some snarky joke, but his words interrupted her.
"I'm in love with you."
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TAGS — @maydayaisha @eiflawriting @sunnylovefics @shamelesshoefairy @emomanswhore @kemakoshume @aiyaaayei @zynoist @chickenwingsandfries3425 @luvsonder @licityxs @zabs-piece @darkskinchristiandiorpostergirl @stunnababyyabyyy @4522-08 @yourfavoritebunnygirl @persephonaeee @bitchmade3 @sunnytalia3 @photosbyameil @sirenh4ll @chunkygirl07 @cyancherub @bleubrri @i2beevvvs @chanelruntz @kagami-jigoku @lovesickbf @blkshoyo @yooniluvbot444 @shoyoist @vivianette @venusinbimbo @si00p @atesumu @b-achiras @syomi @hyuene @getousbabymama @myluhvrr @sexlapis @loveupeople @jellymantra33 @solaneaa @noriken @soumies @diorlov3er @r-xochitl
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WARNING: EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT
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"You told me I'll be the one whimpering here." As if he's not on the precipice of doing so. "You sure got the guts, huh?"
"Sorry, 'm sorry." You murmured with eyes shut tight in pleasure and hastily peppered him with kisses. Not like you're going to stop teasing him after this.
"You're always full of pride until I make you a babbling mess. Does it feel that good? Doing it this way?" He punctuated the remark with a pounce, then moved your legs up a bit so he could be deeper.
That's pretty much it for you. You came with a loud sob, writhed at his mercy. And because you very much asked to have him inside you, you didn't untighten, not at all. You rather gave him a hard time pulling out. You tried to speak amidst shaky breaths, "I'll lock you down here. I—uh—we're staying in this b—bed forever!”
He hummed in concurrence, continuously whispering faint yes in between. He held onto your legs harder as the heat of pleasure pooled on his back. He kept you from moving as he was about to empty himself inside, “And you'll take me well as I come, won't you?"
"Y-yes—would love to!"
With your walls continuously fluttering around him, tension snapped inside. He stuffed you full of his cum with a breathy grunt. It felt so good, so warm, you're so delightfully filled. You wrapped your legs around him so it'd stay there.
Indeed, he completely ensured that his seed would stay deep inside as you wish. Your legs felt quite jelly, completely overstimulated. You attempted to shake it away from him but he held them down firmly. He's going to give you what you want and he'll make sure you stay in his confines as he does. "Own your words and take all of them. Just a little bit more. Almost done."
erwin smith. levi ackerman. toji fushiguro. gojo satoru. kishibe.
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