Hi, can you please do more jealous Michael fics!! I am in lovee with your ‘boyfriend’ fic. Thank youuu🍀🍀
Michael Jackson x Reader
summary: Michael walks into Reader’s bedroom seeing her on a call, he grows jealous.
warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, nothing else
masterlist
Michael casually walked into your bedroom, slipping through the cracked doorway. Tonight he had a couple of vinyls tucked beneath his arm, some rare ones that he’d been dying to show you. His entire mind focused and slightly eager to spend time with you.
But the moment he crossed the threshold, taking a view of you, he froze.
You were sitting cross legged in the middle of your bed, the long, coiled cord of the telephone was wrapped loosely around your finger. The receiver was pressed to your ear.
“No, there’s no way,” you laughed quietly, your voice carrying a light, comfortable lilt that Michael rarely heard you use with anyone besides him. “You actually told him that? Oh my God. I would’ve died on the spot.”
A sudden, sharp prickle of heat flared in the center of his chest, a sudden, ugly spark of jealousy that had caught him completely off guard.
You were an incredibly shy person. It was one of the things Michael liked about you. Your inner circle being so small, reserved only for the people you could be feel freely comfortable around, and Michael had always prided himself on being a part of that inner circle. Your soft smiles, your late night thoughts, and your unfiltered laughter reserved almost entirely for him.
So seeing you like this, relaxed, talking to someone with such easy, casual familiarity, felt like an unrecognisable, aching, twisting knot in his stomach. And the worst part was he had no idea who you were on the phone with.
Who was it?
Michael stepped over the threshold, careful to not make a noise while he closed the door behind him. He stood at the foot of your bed, dropping the vinyls onto the bed. You looked up, eyes widening slightly when you noticed him.
You offered him a quick, apologetic little smile, pointing a finger towards the receiver beside your ear, signifying ‘just wait two minutes.’
Your attention draws back to whoever was on the other side of the phone. “Wait, back up,” you laughed. “What did he do next?”
Michael’s jaw tightened, planting his hands on his hips, his eyes tracing your face, analysing every soft expression you made. He waited three agonising seconds, hoping you’d wrap up the conversation now that he was here, but instead you kept smiling, nodding your head, completely focused on the other person. Michael hated it.
Frustration began to evidently itch beneath his skin, his patience wearing thinner by the second. He moved sitting at the edge of the bed close beside you, hoping to catch the words of the other person on the line.
‘Who is it?’ he mouthed, his brows furrowing into a deep, demanding line.
You blinked at him, you quickly shook your head, waving your free hand at him in a dismissive, ‘not now’ motion.
Usually, when he was around and the phone rang, you’d either ignore it or the call would last a maximum of twenty seconds.
The pit of jealousy only deepened even further within him. His mind immediately jumped to the conclusion that it was a guy. Maybe a guy from that bookstore you liked? Or the local library? Someone he didn’t know, someone that pulled your attention away from him, occupying your mind too much for his liking.
He wanted to hang up the phone for you.
He leaned in closer, his large, brown eyes that made your knees weak, practically begging you for answers.
‘What do they want?’ he mouthed yet again, pointing a finger to the receiver with a slight scowl.
You glared at him playfully. Pulling the receiver away from you, covering the mouthpiece with the palm of your hand. “Michael stop it,” you hissed while whispering. “I can’t hear them.”
“Is it a guy?” he whispered back, his voice low, and demanding. His eyes searched your face, aching desperately for answers he was hoping to find. “Who are you talkin’ to?”
“Shh, okay? I’ll tell you later.” waving your hand at him again. It was like trying to shove at a brick wall, Michael refused to move even an inch. His chest rising and falling, his lips pressed into a stubborn pout.
You removed your hand off the mouthpiece. “Sorry about that,” you said into the phone while side eyeing Michael. “No, just… yeah someone walked in, being ridiculous.”
Michael sat up straighter, an offended look flashing across his handsome face. He felt the sudden childish urge to snatch the phone right out of your hand and demand what gave the right of this stranger to occupy your Tuesday night.
He leaned back in, his eyes locked onto yours.
‘Hang up,’ he mouthed, his expression firm. ‘Just tell them you have to go.’
You narrowed your eyes at him, letting out a frustrated sigh. You tilted your body away from him. “Anyway, so what time are we meeting tomorrow? Oh, perfect. Yeah, that’s okay with me. I’ll meet you out front.”
Meeting tomorrow?!
You were supposed to be at his house tomorrow, well technically you didn’t have any plans with him, but you always visited his house in the middle of the day. He always made sure to clear the middle of his days for you.
The restlessness in his mind became unbearable, thought after thought overlapping his brain. He thrummed his fingers against his leg, then they tugged at the cuffs of his sweater. He could have anyone’s attention at the snap of his fingers, yet he craved yours the most.
He shifted closer to you, his hand against your shoulder. You looked at him over your shoulder, expression a mix of confusion and exasperation.
‘Tell them goodbye,’ he mouthed, ‘please?’
You looked at him silently, his pleading eyes, stubborn set of his jaw. And you realised if you didn’t hang up Michael was probably going to eventually grab the phone himself and hang up for you. With a soft, defeated sigh, your features softened towards him.
“Hey, listen,” you said into the phone. “I have to go, I’ll talk to you some other time.”
You clicked the receiver down, hanging up the phone.
“You’re hovering over me like a hawk. I can barely breathe.” you murmured, you felt a bit self conscious being under the weight of his absolute undivided attention.
“Who was that?” he asked, not wasting a second. He climbed onto the bed properly, settling himself cross legged in front of you. “Who were you talkin’ to?”
“Why does it matter?” you asked, a teasing smile playing against your lips. It was rare to see Michael like this, and you secretly liked seeing him like this.
“It matters,” his brow furrowing again. “You don’t even like talking on the phone and you made plans. You’re meeting them tomorrow at two o’clock.”
“Are you tracking my schedule now, Mr. Jackson?”
“Please tell me.” he wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was jealous anymore. “Was it a guy? Just tell me.”
You quietly realised that maybe Michael wasn’t only just jealous, maybe he feared losing you. And you knew what that felt like. Michael mattered so much to you, losing him would be the last thing you’d want, so you realised that maybe Michael was fearing abandonment.
Your light annoyance melted away. You shifted closer towards him, your hands making their way to hold his warm ones. He reacted instantly, fingers interlocking with yours. “Michael.”
He hesitated, keeping his eyes away from you for a mere second before giving in, slowly lifting his gaze to meet yours. "It wasn’t a guy.”
Michael felt the heavy feeling in his chest lift off, relief flooding through his features, his scowl slowly melting away. “It wasn’t?”
“No,” you chuckled softly, shaking your head. “It was my friend from class, we’re working on a project together. I’m meeting her at the library tomorrow.”
The tension drained out of his shoulders. “Oh.” he murmured.
“The girl who sits next to me. The one who loaned me her notes when I had the flu last month. Remember?”
“Yeah, I remember.” Michael nodded, clearing his throat nervously. His head dropped down. “Oh my God, I’m so stupid.”
“You’re not stupid,” you said softly, your heart doing a strange backflip at the sight of his shy, embarrassed smile. Michael looked up, he reached for the vinyls he had come with. “Now that you’re done being on the phone, you have to listen to these. I found them at a little shop downtown. They’re rare apparently.”
You smiled, the familiar, comfortable warmth of your routine settling back in place. You shifted on the bed, making room as Michael eagerly leaned forward, showing you his vinyls.
pairings / trinity santos x female!intern, jack abbot x female!intern (platonic)
summary / jack abbot had his suspicions over his favorite intern for a while now. it doesn't help when she shows up bruised and battered and he finds out that someone else shares his worries. (3k wc)
warnings / abuse! scenes described & abuse hinted at. this is very jack centric oops, my bad! ooc jack? ooc trinity? jack abbot is a dad. medical inaccuracies because i'm not a doctor and the research makes my head hurt sorry lol.
notes / this is part 1! this is just the start of my girly prongs' series <33
୧ *·˚ PTMC, 7PM.
The neon-red emergency sign loomed in front of her bright and heavy as she gripped the straps of her backpack with sweaty fingers, feet firmly rooted to the ground — For a moment she felt taken back to starting her first year of residency at PTMC a few weeks ago; eyes wide and limbs trembling. She remembered the way the attending Doctor Robinavitch — Call me Robby, kid — had looked at her as though she was a kitten in need of rescuing; the way Doctor Abbot had made sure to give her a thumbs up or an encouraging word after every patient during her first shift — because, of course, her first shift as an intern had to clash with the shooting at Pittfest — or the way Dana had proclaimed her as the baby of the ER a week into her residency.
Whatever it was, something about her — something about her doe-like eyes and her thin frame that seemed to tremble with frigidity when the wind picked up — made her seem like something in need of protecting. She was skilled too; working with the precision of someone who was more than just an intern and the empathy of someone who had faced her fair share of horrors over the twenty-something years she'd been alive — and, in all fairness, none of them doubted that she had.
The clock was just shy off seven — it was her second week of night shift — when she finally found the courage to meander through the chaos that was the PTMC waiting room. Flashing her badge to the security guard at the front, she pushed open the door to the familiar Emergency Room that had become more of her home than the tiny apartment tucked in between a flower shop and a cozy bar she actually lived in.
She buried her face in the collar of the jacket she had thrown over her scrubs in her haste to get out of the door, pulling her cap deeper into her face as her eyes easily sought out Robby and Doctor Abbot leaning against the nurses station. Fuck. Truth to be told, she was certainly aware that there was no way in hell that she could hide the evidence of her weekend, that stood out against the pale skin of her face like a lighthouse, from anyone at the PTMC but she had hopped to put it off until the last second — or at least until Robby, the equally as worried but more emotional part of the two, had left for his home.
"Hey." she muttered uneasily in passing, merely raising her hand in an akward wave.
"Well, hello the— Woah, woah, woah! Hey!" Robby interrupted himself, abandoning the tablet in his hands to rush towards her. He was in front of her in seconds, gentle hands tilting her face towards the light as he took in the bruise blossoming around her left eye with furrowed brows. Doctor Abbot moved into the space behind him quickly, straining his neck over Robby's shoulder to get a good look on her face as well.
She winced as her head throbbed with the motion. She had looked at herself in the mirror before she left and, in all honesty, she knew if the slight limp in her gait didn't raise any concerned questions, her left eye that was almost swollen shut at this point definitely would.
"What happened there then, huh?" Doctor Abbot hummed, muscular arms crossed in front of a broad chest. Her answer was a mere grimace as she watched Robby pull out a penlight from the chest pocket of his scrubs, checking her pupils before prodding around the bruised swelling starting around her eye.
"Pupils are equal and reactive— Come on, follow my finger." Robby muttered; a calm focus replacing the frantic worry even if she could see the hints of unease slipping through the cracks. She obliged begrudgingly, humoring Robby by following his finger with her eyes — Heaven knows there was no way he would let her slip off to work before assessing her. "Okay, good. That looks to be in order. Nothing seems broken either, but I want to get a head CT so we can rule out everyth—"
Her eyes widened in panic and she was quick to stumble a step back. "Hey, no, that's not necessary at all. I just tripped on my way down the stairs this morning and knocked into a table. I'm good... seriously. Nothing ice and a little TLC can't fix."
The corners of Doctor Abbot's mouth quirked up into a solemn smile as he moved to stand next to Robby. Sure you did." he muttered, sharp eyes taking in the way she stood there, clearly favoring her left leg and thin arms wrapped around herself delicately.
Her face had considerably hollowed out since she had started at PTMC all those weeks ago; already prominent features now sticking out sharp and distinctively gaunt. With the sleeves off her underscrubs permanently stretched past her knuckles and her head always tucked into the hood of the jacket she always wore, it suddenly became apparent to Jack that she was shrinking right in front of his eyes — that there was significantly less her standing in front of him now than the girl he'd met stumbling into the ER for the first time that day of Pittfest. "You're not working in my ER until you're cleared. One of your eyes can barely stay open." he huffs, tilting his head up ever so slightly at her. There's something in his chest that he can't quite name but his voice is thick with it — It's the same way his heart had seemed to swell in his chest leaving him breathless when his late wife had thought she was pregnant all those years ago.
"Doctor Abbot—" she tried in a feeble attempt but Jack shook his head, one hand already hovering near her back.
"You and I are gonna take a trip up to CT." he explained, a sense of tenderness seeping through his actions and words that was so entirely different to the doctor she had met at the start of her residency. "Did you pass out? Any nausea? Dizziness?"
She wanted to argue; wanted to tell him that she is more than capable of diagnosing a concussion on her own, that despite being just an intern she still went through med school and could take care of herself but a tiny part of her — the tiny part that wasn't terrified of being found out — couldn't help but think it felt nice to be taken care of. "No, no and no." she muttered, shaking her head despite the pounding in her head.
It was a white lie, really. In truth, she had no clue if she had passed out — She remembered her boyfriend's face distorted in rage, his fist raising after one of their many arguments had once again blown out of proportion before it came barreling towards her. It took a full minute, however, for her to actually feel the pain searing through the left side of her face, a full minute as she just looked at his face; looked at the man she'd loved for seven years who had for the first time actually punched her in the face.
She couldn't remember the ten minutes that followed — She could distinctly think of her body breaking to the right, hip crashing against the bedside table and she could faintly picture her boyfriend changing her trembling body into her scrubs, but that's when her mind blacked out.
Jack looked over at her with his eyebrows narrowed and lips pressed thin in a way that was so Doctor Abbot — so like the man that had driven her home once after a gruelling shift left her drained to the point Robby worried she would wound up in the ER on a gurney if he let her leave alone; the man who had covered her in his jacket when she had fallen asleep in his passenger seat and had mindlessly driven for an hour through Pittsburgh just to make sure she got at least an ounce of sleep — that it almost made her cry.
It was silent after that — or: as silent as it could get in the chaos of the pitt — as Doctor Abbot guided her to the elevator, his broad back shielding her from the prying looks from the nurses he knew to like the ugly gossip. His hand was just shy off her back, close enough for her to feel the warm radiating from him but far enough for her not to feel suffocated.
"Anyone we can call for you? Boyfriend? Parents?" he asked mindlessly as he got her situated on a chair just outside the doors of the CT. His gaze was trained on the tablet in his hands as his fingers swiftly moved to start a chart on her but his sharp eyes didn't miss the way she seemed to sit up a little straighter at his question.
"Uh... no," she muttered, a sense of shame spilling from her lips "My boyfriend's... busy and I don't— My parents— They live out of state.", she settled on after a brief moment of akward rambling. Jack made a noise in acknowledgment; something between a hum and a grunt.
He could feel something tighten in his chest — His parents, too, had always been 'out of state' whenever anything had come up; for his wedding, every Christmas and every birthday. He shifted towards her against the strain it put on his prosthesis. "Okay, kiddo," he muttered, his voice edging on a sense of softness he usually reserved for his kid patients "I'm pretty sure Robby will stay until you're cleared anyway so he can drive you home."
She wanted to protest but Doctor Abbot just shook his head. "Don't even think about it. I don't think your patient satisfactory scores wouldn't handle your face looking like you just came home from a pub crawl." he joked — Joking because joking with her felt safe when he couldn't quite decipher the feelings wrapping around his chest like a rubberband.
Her shoulders slump in unconcealed defeat. She knew that not only would Doctor Abbot and Robby not let her work under any circumstances, but — and everything in her loathed to admit it — she was in no condition to treat patient when she could neither walk nor see properly. "I can take the bus, it's fine."
Jack's head lifted ever so slightly, eyebrows raised and lips pursed ever so slightly. "No chance." he stated simply, his tone brooking no argument.
She let out an exhale — shaky and deep — as she slouched deeper in the chair. The night shift, when she'd joined them two weeks ago, had felt like a safe haven; night shift meant that she could spend as little time confined to the same four walls as her boyfriend. Night shift meant she could leave home before he returned from work and take so much time getting back home in the morning, that he'd already left when she opened the door.
"Is your boyfriend home?" Jack asked casually. He barely looked up from the tablet in his hand but she noticed the slight shift in his posture; noticed the tension pulling through his shoulders and the slight downturn at the corners of his mouth. She knew her coworkers had a hunch — the bruises peeking out, the way she checked her phone almost obsessively and the times she refused to meet up with them for any social event outside of work.
"Yes, got home from work when I was getting ready." she explains, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. Jack nodded wordlessly, fingers flying effortlessly over the tablet.
Jack wanted to ask — Wanted to know if it had been him; if the man that was supposed to love her had been the one who had hurt her to the point of this, but he knew that would inevitably only cause her to shut down. The door to the CT opened before he could say anything else.
Her name was called with that quiet softness the hospital edged into when one of their own was hurt and Jack watched with his eyebrows set in a deep frown as she stumbled to her feet and disappeared into the room.
"Doctor Abbot?"
Startled, Jack turned around to find a fidgeting Trinity Santos lingering just around the corner. She looks uncomfortable in the way that being vulnerable after years of faux strength makes one squirm uneasy. "Doctor Santos." he nods at her. "If there is an issue down in the ER, I'd ask you to please find Robby—"
Trinity shook her head quickly, eyes flickering over to the door to CT. "No, no, no problem in the ER, just... Is she okay?"
Oh, Jack thought, as his eyes carefully traced the way Santos held herself with both hands tucked in the pockets of her scrub pants and her shoulders pulled up to her ears. He nodded, lips twitching into an attempt of a comforting smile. "She took a nasty hit, but she will be fine." I hope, left unsaid.
Trinity hummed, adverting her eyes from Jack's piercing stare. For a moment, Jack debated asking her about Prongs' boyfriend. He knew they were friends; knew that the name Prongs stemmed from an inside joke between Prongs, Santos, Javadi and Whitaker (something to do with Harry Potter, not that Jack would ever admit to eavesdropping on them when they were huddled up at the nurses station during shift change). Once Robby and him had even run into them at the bar just down the road from the hospital which had ended up with him taking a giggling group of girls and a sleeping Whitaker home in his truck.
Trinity started speaking before he could think of what to say.
"She's been showing up with these bruises a lot lately." she started, shrugging in a way that seemed careless but Jack could see the tension pulling through her shoulders. He nodded, giving her the time and space to continue. "It's just— I'm not trying to say... whatever, it just seems weird, you know? She isn't that clumsy."
Jack watched as Trinity twitches on the spot and the pit that had been sitting heavily in his gut since Prongs had stumbled into the ER looking like death warmed over seemed to double in its' size. He knew Trinity was observant like that — appreciated her, even, when he had a case that seemed a little less medical and a lot more psychological — but right now he could only wish that she was wrong.
She sighed heavily, continuing. "I don't even know where I'm going with this. I guess I just—"
"You worry."
Trinity nodded, wordlessly.
"I worry, too." he admitted quietly, shoulders dropping slightly. He could see Trinity straighten up at his words, eyes widening in a way that made Jack think she'd expected him to dismiss her. Jack cleared his throat, thoughts racing a thousand miles a minute as he mulled over how to approach the topic when the door to the CT opened with a faint creak.
Within seconds the air shifted. Trinity pushed herself upright, shoulders pulled back and if it wasn't so devastating watching her swallow down the worry and fear, Jack would've asked her if she had ever considered a career change to acting. "Heard you lost a fight to the stairs and a table." Trinity huffed with a sense of feigned ease.
"Thanks for always being so worried for my wellbeing, Trin." Prongs snorted, lips twitching into something akin to a smile despite the aching in every bone in her body. Trinity only huffed in response, body subconsciously shifting to be closer to her. (Jack noted that; filing it away for something to discern later.)
"So," Jack cut in, lifting up the tablet with her file still opened "What's the verdict?"
Prongs' shoulders dropped ever so slightly but the half-smile stayed pulling stubbornly at the corners of her lips. "Everything looks good. You can see for yourself if you want." she shrugged.
Jack nodded, fingers already moving to pull up the scans added to her file. He didn't doubt her — Still, if there was one thing he'd learned over the years working in the ER it was to always be rather safe than sorry and there was no way in hell that he would take a chance with her. He hummed thoughtfully as his eyes flickered over the scans. "Looks good; think I can send you home without losing hair. Let me just ask Robby if he can take y—"
"I can take her!" Trinity cut in, an instant blush spreading on her cheeks as she realised how eager she sounded.
Jack didn't miss a beat, however. "Sure, that's fine."
The elevator ride back down to the ER went on quiet — Prongs, visibly drained, was propped up against one wall, eyes just about open while Jack and Trinity very obviously hovered, the worried crease between their eyebrows matching.
"Be safe," Jack muttered with a thick swallow as he leaned at the hub, watching Trinity juggle her and Prongs' backpacks in one hand, the other one kept steadily on Prongs' back "And don't even think about coming back before you're properly healed, you hear me?"
She giggled — the sound strained and not enough to ease the tension in his body even slightly. Jack could only beg to whoever might listen as he watched her leave; Please don't come back on a strechter. Please don't make me fight for your life. Please. I can't bury you.
Summary: Riddle returns to his dorm after a stressful winter break, so you come to cheer your boyfriend up
Notes: Established relationship, non-Yuu reader, old story from my Wattpad that I cleaned up slightly
Word count: 1545
Sneaking into the NRC campus at night was easier than it probably should've been. At midnight all the students and staff were already in their dorms or gone for the day. The kids here must be so well behaved, unlike you and your classmates at the nearest all girls school. Your own campus was still lively at this hour, and you were far from the only student who left campus without permission, but you were the only one that left just to sneak into another school. You were armed with a box of decadent pastries and a mission; to spoil your uptight boyfriend.
The coast was clear around Heartslabyul, naturally. Riddle ran a tight ship, no way any of his residents would be messing around at night. As much as you love him, you're glad you don't live under his rule. You recall Trey once said you were good for Riddle, who desperately needed to loosen up. And you were determined to help him unwind tonight. Poor man just came back from his winter break where he had to deal with his nightmare of a mother. You had barely heard from him in that time because of her. It was unlikely he told her about you. That's fine, the drama wasn't worth it. She can find out about you however many years in the future the wedding is. You quietly snickered to yourself, knowing it's too early to even think about that, never being one for planning anyways. The thought of his mother not finding out her son was even in a relationship until his wedding was funny to you, though.
You silently crept through the halls of the dorm to Riddle's massive room. How unfair that the boys of this school get such lavish rooms. You were forced to have a roommate at your school. You didn't like her, always bringing her loud group of friends over and occasionally "borrowing" your stuff. It's no wonder you spent more time at NRC, but you were stuck on your own campus while Riddle was on break, getting by mostly by couch surfing at your other friends' rooms. Now that your man is back, however, you’re ree to share that big, comfortable bed with your favorite person again. Your feet stop in front of the familiar room, a devilish grin forming on your face. You knock lightly, not wanting to draw any attention from the rest of the dorm. "Riddle~" you whisper. "Riiiidddllleee~~~" you knock a little harder. 'Don't tell me you're sleeping already...'
You set the pastries down on the floor and crouch down to try to see through the gap under the door. "RIDDLE!" You whisper-scream through the gap. You hear a chair slide a little on the floor. He must have been at his desk. You watch his feet finally approach the door, staying crouched on the floor. He opens the door and you pounce on his legs, hugging them tightly.
"Y/n! What are you doing!?" A startled Riddle quietly yells.
"I missed you~" you coo from the floor. He tries to shake you off of his leg.
"Get up!" He commands. You jump up and pull him into a tight hug, holding his head with one hand, kissing the top of it repeatedly. Riddle's face goes rose red. He pushes you back a little, looking up at your face. He leans his head up a little to give you a proper kiss on the lips. Blushing even harder, he pulls you back into the hug and rests his head on your shoulder.
"I missed you too," he says, barely audible. You reluctantly release him to retrieve your treats and close the door, giving you two absolute privacy. You kick off your shoes and make yourself comfortable on Riddle's giant bed, laying the pastry box down beside you.
"Come sit with me.” You keep your voice low, but you're no longer whispering. Riddle crawls in bed to your left. You look each other in the eyes, his expression neutral while yours is playful. You proudly swing the top off of the box revealing six pastries, three different kinds, two of each. "Surprise!" You smile. Riddle looks at you blankly.
"It's a little late for this, Y/n," he says.
"It's okay, this is a celebration." You grab your chocolate croissant from the box.
"What are we celebrating?" He asks, but still grabs his own croissant.
"Our liberation! I'm free of my roommate and you're free from the pain of being away from me!" You finish with a giggle, sinking your teeth into the artisan pastry. You really splurged on these pastries, getting them from the fanciest bakery in your area, but Riddle doesn’t have to know how irresponsible you are with your money. All he has to do is relax and enjoy the feast.
"You mean free of my mother..." he corrects. You let out a sad sigh but don't drop your smile.
"I didn't wanna force you to talk about it." Riddle sits silently for a second, studying his croissant, before taking the smallest bite. His face perks up a little at the brilliant taste coating his tongue. "Good, huh?" You happily ask. Riddle nods once. You push the box from between the two of you so you can snuggle closer to your boyfriend. You silently finish the first pastries then pull Riddle closer to you, stroking his hair. Your touch makes him lean into you, so you move to lie down, bringing his head to your chest, making him blush again. He adjusts himself to get more comfortable, laying his left hand on your stomach as you continue stroking his hair.
"I tried to tell her about you..." Riddle whispers. Your hand stops stroking his hair for a split second, but you quickly resume. "She wouldn't let me get a word in. It was probably for the best."
"You don't have to tell her anything," you reassure him. You don't want him to get himself in any trouble because of you. You spend the next half hour letting Riddle vent about his less than relaxing vacation, holding him close to your heart the entire time. When he finishes his rant, you grab his shoulders and flip his body over yours, startling him.
"Wah-what was that!?" He shouts. His legs are hanging over yours and he's fully wrapped in your embrace. You nuzzle the top of his head enthusiastically.
"Giving you some much deserved love!" You smother his face in kisses. Embarrassed, he buries his face in your chest. "I love you, Riddle, you know that?" You speak into the top of his head.
"I love you too," his voice is muffled due to his face being squished into your breasts. After a minute, you release Riddle, making him whine a little.
"I'm gonna get changed," while Riddle was decked out in his full set of silky red pajamas, you were still in the jeans and tight shirt you walked over in. Luckily, you brought some pajama shorts and a camisole with you. You strip, and while Riddle tried to look away, he couldn't help but steal a few glances at your body. "It's okay to look, silly," you tease. He quickly turns his blushing face away from you. You crawl back into bed with him and reach back into the pastry box, grabbing two assorted fruit tarts and handing one to Riddle.
"How were things while I was gone?" He asks as you eat your tart.
"Super boring. My damn roommate brought her annoying friends around every day! I had to sleep on random couches the whole time. Ruined my back... so excited to finally sleep in your giant bed." You flop back onto the pillow, relishing in the softness. You quickly devour the rest of your tart and wrap your arms around the pillow. You watch Riddle slowly nibble on his tart. He looks so dignified, even in this mundane, casual setting. You fight to stay awake just a little longer, sleep deprivation taking its toll after weeks of restless nights.
"I'm excited too. It's hard to sleep without you next to me," Riddle says dreamily. You grin from ear to ear, so happy that he's as crazy for you as you are for him. He takes the last bite of his tart and you force yourself to get up to move the box to his desk.
"We can have the last ones for breakfast. I'm so tired." You collapse face first on the bed again, making Riddle chuckle lightly.
"I'm just going to brush my teeth. Be right back." Riddle lifts one of your hands to his face and gives it a gentle kiss before he heads to the bathroom. You spread out on the large bed, complete angel position. You're seconds away from passing out when Riddle comes back, forcing you back to consciousness. "Get under the covers, Y/n." You reluctantly move so Riddle can pull the blanket over the both of you. You sling your right arm over his abdomen and give him one last soft kiss on the lips before he cuddles deeper into your embrace, head near your heart.
"Night, baby," you whisper.
"Goodnight, love," he whispers back as you slip out of consciousness.
Breaking the Surface (Sex Pollen Kishibe x f!Reader) MDNI
Due to dwindling devil hunter numbers, you accompany your former mentor, Kishibe, in a run of the mill Devil acquisition. Upon encountering the devil, you both begin to experience some...side effects.
wc: 12.9k Ao3 Masterlist
you can buy me a Ko.fi here, if you like!
Warnings: SEX POLLEN AND THEREFORE DUBIOUS CONSENT!!!! (if that is not your thing, please be on your way and we will see you in the next one, love you), enemies to fucking, mean Kishsibe, smoking, drinking, aphrodisiacs, age gap (like late 20s/30s and 50), kissing, spit, sex in an alley, blood (both Devil and Human, but not that much), hypnosis, sex marathon, doggy, missionary, sex marathon, cum, a lot of smell/scent stuff again.
What a joke.
The thought hung between the two of you, Kishibe in the driver’s seat, and you in the passenger, grumbling out the window. The disgruntled huff rattled in both of your skulls, throbbing against the increasing headache. Neither of you wanted to be here. Or rather, neither of you wanted YOU to be here. Makima bade you join him on what should be a simple execution with little to no complexity. Kishibe was the top of the top, with literally no need for backup taking down a middling level devil. You were perfectly capable, but not even really exceptional, but not a rookie who needed more demonstration either. But, instead of getting your own assignment or group to lead, you were stuck basically being the audience and late report filer for today’s excursion. Your day would consist of standing around, trying to stay out of the way, while he did all the real work, and you’d have the paperwork while he drunk himself stupid back at home. You sighed out, feeling the tension in your head building, the pencil callus on your middle finger already aching.
“How much further?” You huffed, glancing at the time, disheartened to find it was already approaching mid afternoon.
“Why, you got something better to do?” Kishibe’s eyes stay locked on the road before you.
“Better than watching you kill a devil barely half my threat level? Yeah, anything else.” You roll your eyes, squinting as the late morning sunlight peered over the drop down visor.
He didn’t respond, just carried on driving as if you hadn’t even spoken to him.
You roll your eyes again and remember Makima's instructions when you had complained, “You’ll go in as a team, numbers are slim right now so everyone pairs even if their ranks don’t align. No one goes alone.”
Public Safety was scrambling, for personnel, for intel, for quality hunters. Hours had become brutal, late nights bleeding into early mornings with barely time for a shower at home. The office floor was growing more barren every day. Chairs which had once been home to colleagues now sat empty, pushed into desks with dust collecting personal effects that would eventually be collected and trashed by the custodial crew. Everyone was on a razor edge, feeling the impending fate breathing down their necks. Irritability was at an all time high.
“—total bullshit.” You mumbled, shaking your head and pulling at the skin of your fingers.
“I didn’t remember you having such a shitty attitude before.” Kishibe took a smooth right turn.
“It’s been a long time since you were my teacher, Kishibe. A very long time. And I have a perfectly fine attitude, when my time isn’t being wasted.”
Kishibe grunted in response, taking another turn and stopping the car.
“Get out and fill the back right tire. It’s getting low.” He commanded, voice passive.
You looked around the windows realizing you had pulled into a gas station’s air pump. The dashboard didn't even have a tire pressure warning. Was he just trying to piss you off?
“It’s your car.” You settled into your seat further.
“You’re under my instruction.”
“What?” You rolled your neck to face him with lidded cold eyes, “ Your old knees can’t get that low anymore, maybe you ought to take a back seat on this one, huh?”
“So which is it, am I a decrepit old man who can’t do anything alone or am I too good to be wasting your precious time as my caddy?” He glared at you, watching your face contort in indignation, the squeak of your teeth grinding egging him on, “I’m just confused, your story’s inconsistent.”
“Fuck, fine!” You took off your seatbelt and got out, circling to the back of the driver’s side and unscrewing the valve cap and attaching the hose.
Air hissed rhythmically into the tire, which inflated itself. It was barely flat to begin with, he was just proving how easy it was for him to do whatever he wanted. He had always been an asshole, even beyond the time you had known him. Your months training under him were grueling. He pushed you hard, kicked your ass harder. But it was effective, you learned to take a hit, how to avoid taking said hit. For a while you found yourself admiring him. His power, his speed, his agility and experience. In your early days as a devil hunter, you had found yourself drawn to him. Wanting to know about whatever tragic backstory had scarred him, damaged him so that he became so callus, so vicious. Secretly wondering if you did well enough, or lingered long enough after hours if he would confide in you. Maybe he would even---- no. You didn't allow yourself to finish that thought, at least not often. He may be handsome and fit and strong, but he was mean and probably certifiable. He was one of those guys who was born an asshole and despite his heavily borrowed time, he would one day die an asshole.
The day was not starting well, at this rate it would be a miracle if you both held out long enough to actually face the devil. The pump began to beep, alerting you that the tire was full. You reset the machine for the next user and walked around the car and slipped back into your seat. Kishibe looked over at you boredly. You got your hand coated in whatever car road gunk, now turned them ashen and tried to brush off the bulk of it onto your pants, feeling the ickiness of it sink into your palms.
“Gonna get dirtier than that, you sure you're up for it?” Kishibe mocked your disgust, starting the car and looking just barely backwards to back out of the pumping station.
“I don’t remember you offering to get your hands dirty.”
Silence settled between the two of you. The drive continued, the car hummed, the radio was barely audible. Some You turned your attention back to your cuticles, allowing the sound of wind rushing past the cracked windows to fill the silence.
A dance pop song played on the radio, something about a woman begging her cab driver to get her to her booty call faster, before she changes her mind. Being desperate and touch starved was a feeling you knew well, especially as of late. The late nights had recently cost you your most recent in a string of casual lovers. One too ‘sorry, stuck at work.’ flake outs too many. You couldn’t blame them either, it wasn’t like you were all that present when you did manage to make it to your dates. Dating outside the company would always carry this barrier, between yourself and civilians. But dating within the walls of Public Safety carried all the traditional “don't shit where you eat” consequences, with a perfect cherry of “they, or you, will die horribly and leave the other to mourn” on top. You knew getting into Devil Hunting would make your life harder, potentially even shorter, but not getting laid? You’d rather be torn apart by the next devil you saw than forgo a good, consistent fuck. Or maybe you were just annoyed because your lover ex lover, as of late had dumped you, it meant you wouldn't be having sex this week, making this the fifth week in a row for you. Over a month of no sex. You can’t remember the last time you had gone without this long. The distraction of work kept your day-mind occupied, but when you’d return home, for however briefly, you found yourself starving for the touch of someone else. You were an effective partner for yourself, you knew your body well and particularly how to orgasm quickly and quietly, aiding your slip into sleep. But it wasn’t the same, you couldn’t lose yourself in the same way you could when you were with someone else. The way your mind would be consumed by the wholeness of the act; their movements, their body, the smell, the sight, the sounds. You’d find yourself stuck in your own head, barely rubbing out an orgasm before rolling over and falling asleep. It had been too long. Far too fucking long.
Even thinking about how much you craved sex began to make you wet. You felt the tug behind your navel, alerting your attention lower. You fidgeted in your seat, the sun in your eyes once again, the heating of your skin making your suit jacket feel restrictive and stuffy.
Kishibe noticed your wiggling. He watched out of the corner of his eye as you unbuttoned your jacket and tried to shrug it down your arms. Between the seatbelt and the cramped passenger side it was an awkward little dance that finally got it off you. He stayed focused on the road, praying the traffic would lighten so he wouldn’t be stuck in this ever heating box with you. You lay your jacket in your lap and adjust your seatbelt, not realizing how it found its place right across the center of your chest. Kishibe’s eyes didn’t even hesitate before peeking at the cleft between your breasts. Your shirt's fabric pulled tight, making the gaps between the buttons stretch, giving him the faintest glimpse at your skin underneath. A few rapid blinks cleared the image long enough for his eyes to turn his attention back to the road. He swallowed, tilting his neck to onside until it cracked.
He needed a cigarette, he needed his flask out of his coat pocket, he needed something to stimulate him. Something to consume his mind other than the growing, burning thoughts. It was just the nature of the assignment. It was infecting the air of the car, shaking you both with its humid imagination.
The Lust Devil. The Devil grown from the fear and shame of sexuality, ranging from infidelity, adultery, sexual violence, to personal repressive shame, etc. attraction and sexuality was a sensitive topic for nearly everyone alive, making its corresponding Devil powerful. Although, from the intel gathered by the information sector, its raw power wasn’t extensive. Its defensive power was harder to get an idea of, the previous reports that had been filed had been vague at the most helpful and fully redacted at the least. Hence why the top devil hunter was tasked with its capture. It had most recently been spotted in one of the shadier clubbing districts that Tokyo had to offer. Not a lot of tourists, nothing flashy, just a strip of bars, pachinko parlors, a few behind-the-false-wall establishments that were illegal, but documented. Likely favored by police or lawmakers in the area who could be bought out to turn the other way. Corruption was rife, making it the perfect breeding ground for devils. The sun was beginning to sink, the early afternoon was stretching, inching toward sunset. Finally Kishibe pulled the car into a car park six blocks from the suspected nest. He turned the key, plunging the car into silence. It felt suffocating, at least the awkwardness of the drive had been somewhat mitigated by the ambient car noise and the radio. You both hesitated for a moment before you moved to unbuckle your seatbelt. The click of the belt covered his sigh as he followed suit. You both exited the car and began to make your way out to the street.
The air had been sticky but an evening chill tingled the back of your neck, cooling your cheeks, which you realized had been burning. He reached into his breast pocket, retrieving his flask, unscrewing the cap. You rolled your eyes at his dependence, redressing yourself in your uniform jacket. He took a sip, your eyes crept over, watching the way his throat tightened. The stubble running down his neck was getting lighter, as was the scar from lip to ear. When you had met him, it had still been pink at its deepest points, the cross hatches where staples had once been were more pronounced, which now were faded and pale. You watched as his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed whatever vice he had stashed away in advance. When you looked back up to his face he was looking back at you. He extended the curved silver flask to you. You accepted, taking a sip, trying to ignore the thoughts about the stick of his lips still lingering on the spout. You took another quick one, letting what you now knew was whiskey scorch down your tongue and throat. It was harsh and spicy, scouring down through your chest, spreading its warmth, bringing you closer to your center. You let out a long breath and handed it back and continued walking silently.
The crowds hadn’t yet died down. Throngs of people bustling in and out of buildings, waiting for crosswalks, car horns, wind, the taste of the whiskey, your senses were sharpened by circumstance so it all washed over you. Ordinarily you would have found yourself pushing through crowds, but Kishibe, at his imposing height and build seemed to create space for the pair of you. The uniform helped, that black tie and jacking becoming symbolic for people to know to leave Devil Hunters to their work, not try and engage, and certainly to not get in the way. It wasn’t long before you reached the cross street of the last reported sighting. There was no guarantee the devil would still be there, or even in the area, but you would have to start somewhere. Your left thumb had been subconsciously clawing at the cuticle line of your ring finger, it wasn't until you felt the wetness on your fingertip that you realized you had broken the skin. You pulled your hand out of your pocket and watched the blood on your nail bed bead up until the surface tension broke, making it drip down your finger. It felt auspicious, something about it made your stomach twist. Trying to put it to the back of your mind, you wiped it across your pants and pressed forward.
Kishibe noticed your delay, and it pushed him over the precipice. The car ride, the attitude, the tire, was whatever, but you were in the field now, there wasn’t room for more of your bullshit. He gripped your arm, pulling you to the side further from the street, a hushed scold coloring his tone.
“You going to make it?” He scoffs.
“What?” You tried to tug your arm back, his strength making your attempt look foolish.
“You’re off your game.” He squeezed your arm harder “You can’t do anything if your mind isn’t here. Whatever problems you have with scheduling or pairing, just deal with it tomorrow. But I need you here.”
He was right, you had let too much of your external frustration seep into the task at hand. Letting your personal gripes influence work would get you killed, you had seen it first hand. Before you could tell him he was right, he spoke again.
“If it’s a problem with me, I don’t care what you think I did. I don’t care that you think is a demotion to work with me. I don’t care. I chose you because I trained you well, you have experience, and I trust you. But it isn’t your choice. You do the job you're given, got it?”
“You--” Your brows wrinkled, “you chose me?”
“And regretted it nearly immediately. What the fuck happened to you?” He bit.
“I--”, you were speechless, your callus complaining in the car ringing in your ears, the selfish indignation with which you had entered the mission, “I didn’t realize, I’m sorry.”
It was such a stupid thing to say, but it was all you had. The truth was you had missed working with him, but the stress of the job had become so overwhelming, and the years had stretched on with less and less contact, it became really easy to forget that he had been a good partner.
“Don’t apologize to me, just fucking tighten up.” He scoffed, releasing your arm and straightening his back, “Just do your job, don’t die, when we get back and I'll rescind my request.”
He started to turn to continue the walk but you reached out to stop him.
“Captain wait,” You started but a crash from the alley closest to you stopped you both in your tracks.
Stepping in time with one another you rushed to the opening of the alley, peeking around the edge of the bodega on one side and seeing nothing but shadow and the colors of sunset. Deep reds and oranges filtering over the tops of the dumpster, stretching back and back further. Two fire escapes were nearly touching about eight feet above your head. This alley didn't have a dead end, it looked to stretch at least a block and a half back, with two internal alleys stretching perpendicular about twenty feet back. It was a tight fit, but pretty standard. The time for discussion was over, you had to get to work.
Kishibe stepped into the alley first, his dark eyes sharp and locked on the intersection between internal alleyways. You stepped in behind him, taping off the exit, indicating to any wandering pedestrians that there was a possible gas leak. Why devil hunters needed such benign sounding rouses, was above your pay grade, but still never quite made sense. You followed behind him closely, but far enough back that you could see around his broad frame. For a man as big and tall as he was, his steps did not make a sound. You couldn’t even hear the rustle of his jacket as he pulled a twenty centimeter bowie knife from his chest holster, it seemed to just extend from his hand silently. You pulled your own, smaller, but much thinner blade, from an internal pocket in your coat, along with a spool of razor thin wire. He stopped silently and you stopped not even a foot behind. If someone were to see your bodies in profile, they would see the two of you made the same shape, a light bend in the knees grounding your feet, torsos leaned forward, eyes and ears open, hands tight around your weapons of choice. You slipped on a pair of thin sheepskin gloves, something that wouldn't be penetrated by the sharp wire.
Kishibe put his unarmed hand behind his back, showing you his palm. A signal he had taught you to mean Target Present. You took in a silent breath, he did the same. Finally you could hear the soft rustling of the devil. No, it wasn't rustling. It sounded almost like it was…talking? Like hearing a whispered conversation happening two rooms away, you can hear that there is talking, but you can’t hear what it is or even make out the voices. This didn’t sound like a voice, more like a collection of voices. It was just barely audible over the road noise and wind. But he could hear it, and now so could you. Whatever you were going to kill tonight was right behind the corner. You pushed your now gloved index finger into his palm softly. Your way of telling him I’m ready.
There hadn’t been an alley to your right in over a block, so it was likely there was a dead end at the end of this corner.
What Devil would corner itself?
Before you could express your concern Kishibe stepped forward again. Then once more with his inhuman speed. Your body followed, attaching one end of your spool to the corner's edge and rushing behind him to line it along the opening, quick to attach the other side and duck underneath. He moved so fast you could barely see the Devil in front of you. It was so much…smaller than you anticipated. Only a few feet tall, thin and lanky. It was a deep grey/blue, shiny and goopy. You couldn't study it too long before you strung another line to the first ducking down to create an identical nearly invisible block a few feet lower.
Kishibe was making quick work of rushing and slicing where he could. The Devil seemed to be making little effort to fight back, just hopping from one spot to the next. It was fast, too fast, it seemed as though it was apparating in different spots rather than moving. Left and right, behind, in an unpredictable rhythm that had Kishibe pivoting sides more than doing any damage. He was usually silent when fighting, but you heard the huffs increasing in volume as he struck out. You watched closely, trying to decipher some kind of pattern in its movement.
The alley wasn’t covered, the area had only a single fire escape on the left building’s wall. You estimated it was only nine or so feet above you. From there it would be a swift jump/climb for the creature to escape to the rooftops.
It doesn’t want to escape.
“Kishibe!” Your voice clawed out of your throat, with no permission of yours.
Kishibe lunged to the right, finally catching the end of the gelatinous tail, lobbing off a few inches. The Devil, now trimmed, jumped to the left. Kishibe’s eyes were fixed in the way the tail’s nub was stuck to his blade. Only for a moment, a split second of distraction considering his arsenal. Deciding between using a different blade or sticking with this one. You rushed the creature as soon as you saw his stutter step, closing in on the fighters. Just in time for it to unfurl a long, proboscis tongue. It uncoiled itself vertically like a butterfly would, taking only a fraction of a second before expelling a fine mist over the both of you. Kishibe squinted, not wanting to close his eyes completely in case of a follow up attack, but you couldn't help it, the sting in your eyes, making you squeeze them shut. It made you cough. It tasted like nothing, but the inhalation was jarring. It felt like steam, it smelled like…ambergris, or sweat or lilac. Something warm and rich and deep. Not bad, just full. And organic.
“Don’t breathe in.” Kishibe commanded, breaking his own instruction by extension. He could feel whatever the liquid was on his lips, on his tongue, tingling the buds as the sank in.
Finally the amalgamated voice joined into language, or perhaps the mist granted you a level of understanding you didn’t previously possess.
Too late.
Kishibe didn’t allow it to continue its speech, bringing his blade down through the eye of the Devil, further and further until the thing was nearly bisected. It twitched briefly before stilling itself, blood pooled around its body.
You both had the same realization.
“This wasn’t it.” You vocalized for both of you, no Devil would have gone down that easily, or cornered itself.
“No it wasn’t.” Kishibe sheathed his knife, his flask found his hand, “This is just a piece of it. Probably not a very big one.”
You sighed, looking down at what remained of the bait that you had so easily fallen for. A Devil that could split itself into smaller, independently functional parts. It was horrifying to imagine the magnitude of what a power like that could do. The thing looks even smaller now split and limp on the ground, it could be useful to try and bring it back with you, give the lab team something to study. You saw plasma or some kind of internal fluid spreading out further, faster and thinner, than the blood was. You crouched closer, trying to examine the opalescent liquid.
“Don’t get too close.” Kishibe warned, using the upper arm sleeve of his coat to wipe blood from his face.
You felt the dew on your own face, swiping one finger across your cheek, looking at it. Shiny, thin, with a small iridescent sheen. It was the same. Whatever sap was leaking out was the same thing the Devil had sprayed you with.
“Flask please.” You asked.
Kishibe handed it to you wordlessly. You dumped its remaining contents onto the asphalt.
“What the fuck—“, he started but you tuned out.
You tried to scoop as much of the fluid up as you could into the now empty flask. You couldn’t really get that much but even a few milliliters would be enough to study. Your heart began to pound, thoughts of poison and infection raced through your mind. If whatever that was was going to try and kill you, gathering some of the source would be the quickest way towards inoculating yourselves.
“We have no idea what that shit was that it sprayed at us. We need a sample.” You stood up from your crouch handing the flask back to him.
“You could’ve let me clear it first. That’s just wasteful.”, he took it back snappily, shaking his head.
You rolled your eyes, of course he would find a way to complain about you potentially saving both of your lives.
“Whatever. If you get sick and need this, I hope you live long enough for me to say I told you so.” You removed your gloves, “We have to be close to the nest, why else would it send out a scout?”
Kishibe cleared his throat and blinked a few times. His head was starting to spin. That swimming, swirling feeling he usually only allowed himself once he was back home and there were no more devils to fight, no more choices to be made, only thoughts to silence and sleep to wait for. He hadn’t drunk nearly enough to be that drunk already. Usually when he was drunk his mouth felt dry, but now he was close to drowning. Swallowing down excess saliva over and over. This was something else.
Your heart was still racing, your mind chasing it down. You were starting to sweat, clammy hands and cheeks chilled by the wind that leaked into the alleyway. You felt on the verge of a panic attack, you were starting to panic when you felt it. A lick of yearning pulling at you. A pulse emerging from your clit. Your panties all too quickly became wet. Your nipples peaked and strained against the fabric of your bra painfully. Your mouth whetted itself, your tongue feeling loose and floppy among so much moisture. You no longer cared to examine the body of the Devil crumpled beneath you, you looked up to Kishibe. His eyes were darker than you had ever seen them, they seemed to be endless pools of abyss, begging, pulling, thralling you into them, into him. You had never noticed quite so closely the details of his face; high, pronounced cheekbones, hollows so symmetrical that even the long healed gash on his left cheek couldn’t take away the beauty.
You had seen a picture once, of him in his 30s. It was buried in some file, it wasn’t a great picture, he was bloodied and bruised, you hadn’t read the whole report attached but you could assume it was some kind of incident report. In this moment, in this alley, with whatever drug was now being carried by your bloodstream, you saw him for the younger man he was once. The same man he had always been. Only for a moment, his hair fluffy and dark, skin supple and bouncy, lips not yet wrinkled by time, full and wet. Those same lips faced you now, years of smoking seemed to have skipped aging this part of him. The eyes never change, the ones in the picture had been just as cavernous, just as unreadable. Like a shark, catching the wounded, wiggling fish it had traced for miles. The black iris and pupils bleeding together, stark against the white sclera. No wrinkle or bag in their periphery would ever make those eyes less terrifying to be caught in. Those shark eyes held you steady in their gaze.
“What?” You asked, panted, actually.
He didn’t answer, just looked you over, taking in every inch of your body.
“Kishibe, what?”
He cocked his head just barely, that god awful neck crack sending a jolt straight to your flooding panties.
“Stop looking at me like that. What is it?” Your cheeks burned, everything burned, you needed to loosen your tie or take your jacket off or fuck take everything off.
“Do you feel it too?” His voice was different, rough, strained.
Your blood fell cold again, despite the burn in your cheeks. Piece of the puzzle were falling together, but fuck you didnt have it in you to dare look at the whole picture yet. Your brain was starting to fuzz, boundaries of station and taboo blurring together.
You looked up at him with concerned eyes, pulling your jacket down your shoulders and dumping it onto the dirty ground without a second thought. “This isn't good. I feel…sick…”
But that wasn't the right word, you felt your body aching, heating and cooling too rapidly to maintain, shivers and sweats commingling into an internal hurricane.
“What do we do? Do we just---” You couldn’t speak the lewd ideas out loud, shame clogging your throat, making it hard to breathe.
He took one carefully measured step toward you. He wasn’t sure what to do either, he didn't have enough blood in his brain for reason, too much of it had fled to his cock. Which now strained against his pants so hard that he worried for the integrity of the button. You looked so concerned, but so good, the grime of combat appeared a better enhancement than the finest makeup in the world. Your eyes were large and wet, not crying but filling with moisture the same way his mouth was still drooling. You saw how you shifted your weight, a small gasp escaping you as--he speculated-- the inseam of your pants pressed too closely against you. Fuck he wanted to give in, to take it away, he wanted you, he wanted you so badly he thought this might actually be the thing that finally kills him.
You shifted again, uncomfortable under his gaze. You pulled at the knot of your tie, tugging it loose, praying it would give you some kind of relief. It did not. You undid your top buttons, hoping the evening air would cool your neck. He could see the sweat beading along your neck, for a moment he tasted the salt and sweetness on his still stinging tongue. Kishibe groaned, this was not helping his situation at all. His dick strained further, his heart wasn't even aching any more, it was spasming. Painfully. Was he having an actual fucking heart attack?
“Okay fuck it.” He gasped out, he felt lightheaded, this was happening too quickly“This will get worse before it gets better, I need to fuck something, now, and I don’t know how long I can hold out and I know you feel it too.”
He said it. It was actually out there, hanging in the space between your two overheating bodies. Even just hearing him speak those words aloud you felt a microsecond of repose, only to bring the intensity of sensation all crashing down on you once more. It was too much to bear, you sunk to the ground. You thought you might vomit, or faint, not from repulsion, obviously not, just from the overwhelming feeling of your own blood pulsing against your ears. You keeled over onto your knees, trying to fight your body.
Kishibe’s bad knee cracked as he crouched down to your level, one tentative hand finding the space between your shoulder blades. You moaned at the firm, warm pressure of him touching you. A broken, weak moan. One that sent him ailing once again.
“It’s some kind of aphrodisiac…”His hand moved up and down the line of your spine, not daring too low, or too high, staying contained in the benign, sexless rectangle of your shoulders, “But a strong one.”
You nodded, his words sounded like you were underwater, you could barely make them out, the sensation of his hand on you was too distracting.
“So what? Is it some kind of trap? A distraction?” You pled.
“Maybe.” Kishibe’s hand stilled, he moved to sit beside you, no longer able to keep himself on his knees, “pretty good defense. Keep your opponent…” his eyes flicked down the front of your shirt, then back out quickly, “occupied. Then attack.”
Your eyes flashed open, hoping to find his face again,“So we have to move. We can’t stay here.”
“Can you even stand?” Kishibe avoided your eyes, leaning his head back to the night side, showing you the full length of the side of his neck.
Drool fell from your lips, you could feel the sensation of his stubble against your tongue, the thin skin under your teeth, the muscles against your lips. Your pussy pulsed again, reminding you of the cause of your wandering mind. You looked down where your spit had pooled and saw it was laced with blood. Not a lot, but more than none. Whatever this was, it was doing something to you internally. Something bad. Kishibe’s hand, once on your back, gripped the back of your neck and turned you to face him. His face was deadly serious. A blood vessel had popped in his left eye, a small red moon surrounding the dark planet. This wasn’t some avoidable awkwardness, or some traversable terrain with no consequences, this was becoming life or death.
“Do you trust me?” He had brought your face so close to his own, you could smell the tobacco on his breath, the whiskey, something sweeter.
“Yes. Kishibe please…make it stop.” You finally begged.
He kissed you hard, the traces of blood in your mouth invading his own. You pulled him in by his shirt, scooting yourself closer to him, the gravel underneath you digging in its teeth, making holes in your pants. He was already undoing the fly of your pants when you took your first breath. You wanted to feel him, his body, his heat, anything, you ripped through his buttons, a few of the poor bastards making their new homes amongst the garbage surrounding you. If your younger self could see you now, in the arms of your mentor, surrounded by filth and death, about to cross every boundary she knew kept you apart, she would…honestly, you probably would be elated. Pervert.
“Open your mouth more.” Kishibe bossed.
He spoke in sharp, clear commands when you would work together, but still you were shocked his voice in this situation would feel so familiar. You followed suit and obeyed, opening wider, welcoming in his tongue. You grabbed at his chest, his side, his back; you didn't hesitate before digging your fingers into his skin, feeling the muscle, the skin. You pulled him closer. He had one arm wrapped around your back, the other finally unfastened your pants, making no delay in slipping two of his thick fingers inside and under your panties.
“Oh….. fuck…” He shuddered, pulling off your lips, his head and eyes rolling back in time.
You were so wet, if your pants had been any color other than jet black, how wet you had become would be so visible it would look as though you were incontinent. He felt your sticky arousal coat his fingers. Slipping into the wrinkles of his knuckles, where the skin made room for joints to move, part of him hoped they would never leave. He hadn’t even thought about how careful he should be with you. You were strong, an excellent hunter, great speed, regularly taking devils and beasts twice your size down in a single afternoon. But this was different,he knew that and he still couldn’t stop himself from plunging both his middle and ring fingers into you hard. You cried out, your recent break in sexual contact leaving you unprepared for such immediate insertion. In a flash the hand that had held you up by your back had dropped you, and now covered your mouth, pressing you against the pavement. Your eyes flew open, pebbles and debris digging into your back. But nothing was worth feeling except for him inside of you. His thumb brushed against your clit and your hips jerked up. He fed your pussy his fingers again and again, keeping a steady pace. You pushed your pussy harder against his hand, grinding your clit against his palm.
“Fuuuuuuuck, Kishibe.” You crooned against his hand.
“That’s it baby, open up.” He spread his fingers inside of you, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
You opened your eyes, surprised at the affectionate name, but were stopped when you found him watching the place where his fingers entered you. After a moment of blissful watching he looked back up to you, his mouth hung open in a permanent state of breathlessness. His tie hung loose but still knotted around his neck, his lips were already swollen. Pink and perfect, your spit and his combined reflecting the moonlight back at you like a blue light. You pulled him down to kiss you again, this time moving your tongue into his mouth. With your free hand you unbutton your own shirt more, stopping at your navel when you feel pressure start to build behind your womb. You tried to pull off his lips to warn him what was to come, but he held you in place.
You came with no warning, quicker than you may ever have, a hearty whine ripping from your throat. He gasped, looking down again and seeing your cum trickling down his wrist. He looked back up to your eyes, a smile on the corners of his open mouth. Before you could speak he kissed you again, moving his body over yours, before pulling you up to your feet. Your legs shook like a foal, but you didn’t need to count on them because Kishibe turned you and pressed you against the brick closest to you. The corners of the grout lines dug into the skin of your chest and your face. Kishibe’s lips had moved to your neck, teeth and tongue joining to worship your skin. One hand dug its nails into the brick in front of you, the other reached backwards to try and touch him. You felt the fabric of his shirt, hanging loose to one side, you felt part of his belt, he wouldn’t stop fucking moving.
“I want to touch you, stop.” You wanted to sound stern, but his lips behind your ear made you whimper your instructions, “oh kishi…”
Your eyes rolled back and you pressed yourself against the wall harder, sticking your ass out. Kishibe blindly found your hand between your bodies and guided it to the front of his slacks. You gasped, he moaned into your neck.
Finally.
Your hand mapped his length, and his…girth. It wasn’t the longest dick you had ever encountered, but jesus christ it was the thickest. That was why he had said he didn't want to hurt you, you realized. This thing could do some real damage. You could feel his heartbeat through his pants, he shuddered against you, pressing you into the wall further, as your hand found the end, circling over the tip of his cock.
“You’re not going to make me cum in my pants like some teenager.” He gripped your hair.
You gasped at how rough he was being. You usually had to beg for this kind of treatment. His breath was hot and damp on your neck, you circled his wet tip again.
“You sure about that?”
He released your hair to rip your pants off your hips, down to your knees, “Positive.”
His belt jingled and you heard the unzip of his fly, a moment later you felt the engorged tip pressing between your legs. Fear flashed through your body, making you gasp again, tears slipped from your waterline, but your body pushed your ass further into him, sliding his cock further, so it was nestled perfectly against your folds. You shivered, the anticipation of the real point of no return, coning at you fast. You whimpered out a small, scared cry.
“Please Kishibe, please…” you begged, “be gentle with me.”
Kishibe stopped, the pulse in his heart lurching at how pitiful you sounded. A twinge of…maybe remorse(?) causing hesitation. He never intended for this to happen like this. You didn’t deserve to be rushed through fucking in some back alley, just steps away from an open metropolis. You deserved a bed, and privacy, and time. He would be lying to himself if he had never imagined a night with you. He knew better, he knew the nights he had spent alone, imagining just how to draw out these exact sounds from you. How he would find you alone at the bar, after some not technically mandatory, but certainly expected social time with coworkers, bring you back home and finally have you all to himself. He would indulge himself in fantasies of your body, how it would feel under him, how your hips would strain to straddle his lap, how your breasts would look freed from all bindings, no clothing to keep him from the decadence of your figure. He would have been kinder, he hoped at least. This wasn’t anything like he had imagined. Maybe it was loss that pulled at him now. Mourning for the first night he hadn’t even realized he valued so heavily. He chose then that, despite the circumstances, and despite his arousal plagued mind, he would try his hardest to give you something closer to what you deserved. What he deserved.
Despite the burning desire taking over his body, he slowed, moving your hair off your neck, laying tender kisses among the still indented bite marks and blooming bruises he had already laid.
“I’ll be gentle. I promise, I’m going to take it away, okay?” He didn’t have to turn your face this time, you craned your neck to meet his lips again.
This kiss felt different, kinder, more unified. But the bliss was supreme only momentarily, when he finally began to enter you it was immediately surpassed. You weren’t sure if it was the effects of the aphrodisiac or if it was just him, but the pleasure overwhelmed your every sense. The moon bloomed, taking your vision over completely, pleasure blinding you. A long, howling moan was released into the night sky. It was unclear who sounded it, but it didn't matter. He pushed further into you, until he was fully inside, his hips flush with your ass. You were panting, gasping, no longer kissing him, desperately trying to relax to allow him inside of you, you were gripping him too tight, he couldn’t move.
Kishibe was struggling, you had a hold on him so tight, too tight. His back was hunched at an odd angle because of his height, he couldn't have access to your neck or lips and stand up straight. He couldn’t stay immobile like this, the strain was already becoming too much.
“I’m sorry, I have to.” He grunted, pulling his hips back, forcing your muscles to let him go.
Your body shook, choppy whines came from you as he thrust into you again. You were gripping the wall as hard as you could, digging your nails into any textural abnormality you could find. Your cheek stung against the brick as your face scraped against its rough surface.
“I know. I know. Breathe, baby, breathe.” Kishibe couldn't stop his hips, which carried on finding their pace, but he tried to give you soothing words to take some of the pain away.
His increasingly powerful thrusts made it hard to get a steady breath, but you focused on breathing deep and not holding it or hyperventilating. After a few deep breaths, you could feel your pelvic muscles softening, the lubrication of your previous orgasm, the mess of arousal brought about by the Devil’s poison, and his pre cum soothing the stretch. The pain wasn’t gone, but it was being overshadowed by the bliss of being full of him. You weren’t even out of your clothes, your pants were around your knees, your shirt hadn’t even been unbuttoned completely, the fabric of your bra caught on the texture of the brick, your jacket had been discarded…somewhere… but it didn't matter. You were full of cock, his cock, and suddenly it was clearer to you than ever before that this was where you belonged, wet and oozing, limp and drooling, ready for him to use you how he pleased.
Once you had relaxed, Kishibe could finally get some real rhythm going, finding his hips pistoning on instinct rather than by his input. The friction, the wetness, the sweat, the smell, the sound, he was hypnotized. He no longer cared about a passerby hearing you, or if the real Devil was waiting in the shadows to ambush you, he didn’t care about anything. Anything except feeling your pussy around him every second for the rest of his life. He needed this, he needed you. He had always needed you. He bit hard on the back of your shirt collar, trying to stop the moans and grunts from escaping him. His last fuck had been some random pickup two weeks ago, she was fine, sexy, didn’t ask a lot of questions, and that was pretty much all of his criteria these days. But sex with her felt like a sneeze compared to this. He began to wonder if he was actually a virgin all the time, and this was what sex actually was.
“Harder Kishi, harder….please.” you begged, deepening the arch in your back, begging for his fat tip to kiss the wall of your cervix.
You weren’t as tense now, still tight, but not dangerously so, he could go full force and not hurt you, and fuck was he ready to. Kishibe bent you further, one hand on your hip, the other on the back of your head. He pulled all the way back so that just the very tip was pressed against your hole. In the same moment, he gripped your hair, pulled your head off the wall and snapped his hips forward, your hands kept your shoulders from hitting the wall too hard, his hold on your hair kept your face safe. But nothing could have prepared you for the burst of pain/pleasure that filled your nervous system. Without any time to prepare, he repeated this action. He found a new rhythm, brutal and fast. Out to the tip, in to the base. You didn't even realize the volume of the choked cries you were letting out until his hand found its way to your mouth again. One finger pulling at the corner of your mouth, making your gag.
“Shut up.” His stern voice was back, the gentility had vacated when he felt himself bottom out,“you want anyone off the street to come back here and see you like this?”
Both you and he didn’t miss the way his hypothetical made your pussy clench around him.
“Or maybe you would?” He snapped his hips again, deeper, sending you gasping, “You want everyone to see what a slut you are, huh?”
He was a man possessed, nothing that came out of his mouth had crossed his mind before, and yet it felt truer than saying his own name. He continued:
“Everyone should see me fucking you, so they know. Your perfect little hole is all for me. I can’t believe you had this the whole time and you kept it from me.” He brought his hand down on your right ass cheek, “How dare you. This pussy was made for me.” another spank, “This pussy belongs to me, understand. Your body belongs to me.” he spanked you again, on the same exact spot.
You screamed at the third spank, the skin was so hot, you could already feel it welting. Your wetness was spilling down your legs, his harsh hands and possessive words making you wetter with every syllable.
Another spank came, “Say it. Who does this pussy belong to?”
“You!”
A kind rub over your cheek brought down your defense, before he spanked again, even his own palm starting to sting, “and who does your body belong to?”
You cried out again, his hips relentless as he tortured you, “You! Kishibe, you!”
“Mmm, good.” He smoothed a hand over your wounded cheek, only to dig his nails into the sensitive meat, lean into your ear and speak again, “and who do you belong to?”
“You! Kishibe you, I belong to you.”
He dug his nails in harder, “Who?”
“You Kishibe, you!” You tried again, only to see him raise his hand out of the corner of your eye.
“Captain!” You tried again.
The hand cracked against your skin, “Wrong again.”
Your legs were barely hanging on, the assault on your ass making your knees shake and your arms scrape down the wall.
“Who am I?”
It hit you.
“Master.” You sighed out, knowing you had gotten it, the name he felt most suited him when he had this much power over someone, “I belong to you, master.”
Pride blossomed in his chest, he brought a non threatening hand down across your aching backside, petting your hip softly, feeling the down hairs at the base of your pelvis grow coarser as he parted your center, his middle finger finding your clit.
“That’s right, baby. Good.” He circled your twitching clitoris.
Your legs shook harder, ‘Master…master I can’t I ca--”
But you did, you came again, spasming around his cock, which he buried deep inside of you for you to ride out your climax, still petting at your clit. He continued until you gathered the strength to pull his hand away.
“awh..”He cooed in your ear, “can’t take it anymore, can you?”
You shook your head. He began moving his hips again, pumping into you again and again, “Poor girl, can’t keep up with the old man, huh?”
These taunts seemed not of his own creation, but he still couldn't stop them.
“How long have you dreamt of this? Years? And look at yourself, was this what you imagined? Pants around your ankles, surrounded by trash, falling to pieces after barely getting started?” He mocked, “How disappointing, all that time to prepare and still you can barely keep up. Looks like I got to you too late.”
But that was when you heard it. He heard it. The words were not his own. The voice, it was covered, influenced…filtered in some way. Coming from his desperate mouth, but not his. He noticed it too. It was getting closer, the real Lust Devil, not one of its parts. There was no telling how little time you would have before its arrival. He stilled his hips, against every screaming cell in his body that wanted to continue.
“Stand up.”he ordered, and despite your trembling legs you did, “we have to move now. Break the wires.”
In a Devil hunting first for you, you pulled up your pants, lamenting the amount of liquid arousal that would now find its home in your panties, and donned your gloves to remove the razor wire from the alley’s opening. Adrenaline and endorphins keeping your hands steady, you felt empowered, more so than you had crumbled on the floor in pain prior to this whole endeavor. Maybe the two orgasms had worked some of the effects to the back of your mind, hitting snooze on the incline, however brief. Your watch read 7:58 pm.
“Should we—?” You started, feeling like maybe this was your chance to take this thing down for real.
Kishibe, who had now tucked himself back safely inside his slacks, still achingly hard, rushed past you, grabbing your hand and turning the corner towards the exit.
“Nope. We are in no condition to fight.” He pulled you along, you could barely keep up with his leggy gait.
“But I feel like—…”
“Fine! I’m in no condition to fight. Come on.” He tugged you further towards the street.
You kept your eyes on his back, the street lights in front of him giving him a corona of light, making him seem deific. You heard scuttling, shambling behind you, growing closer. The voice returned, or maybe it had always been there? But now you heard your own voice, and Kishibe’s, your pants and grunts together, his nasty taunts, your pleading begs. You had joined whatever collection this thing was creating. You didn’t dare look back. You knew about Sodom and Gomorrah, about Orpheus and Eurydice, you knew better than to look back when you were so close to salvation.
Kishibe pulled you both out of the line of the alley, and you both burst into the night street. He stopped a few steps from the alley’s entrance, in the open light of the street, you bumped into his back, but he was quick to physically guide you to his side instead, keeping one arm around you, still desperate to have you close. The beast didn’t venture into the light. It stayed eight or so yards from the entrance, away from prying eyes. It made no sound or retreat, but it made no charge either. And that was good enough for Kishibe. He tugged you along, pulling you past the much smaller crowd, and back in the direction of the car. The ache was building again inside of you, how could it be asking more from you already. He hadn’t even cum once yet, by your own mental calculations he was probably running on pure adrenaline.
“Kishi?” Your voice was still hoarse.
He kept walking.
“Kishi, baby?” You tried again, slowing your pace just slightly.
He tugged you further, still not waiting for your question.
“Kishibe, what’s the plan?” You got tired of waiting for his permission, you stopped, “you can’t drive like this, I can’t either. It's at least thirty minutes back to the office, and I don’t think we can do much there!”
“Fuck!” He stopped and turned to face you, coming close, his voice threatening, “I’ll fuck you right here if we don’t find somewhere else.
His other eye had a small hemorrhaged vessel as well. Two identical spots in either eye. Your heart burned at the sight, at his desperation. He needed you, he needed you to find somewhere where he could relieve himself, where he could have you at the fullest with no interruption, either from peril or from prying eyes. You flashback through your entrance to the area, what had you passed, what had you seen? There was something, there had to be, or else you wouldn’t feel so sure of it. You just had to remember. Fuck! Your mind was still scrambled. He was growing restless, his grip on your arm growing tighter and tighter. He inched closer and closer, you became aware of the passersby, witnessing you bruised and scratched in the grip of a much larger, desperate man. It wasn’t a good look.
Wait..
“A love hotel! We passed one on the way here! It had a lit up sign in the front window!” You finally remembered. It couldn’t have been more than a block away.
He groaned, picturing the check in process and the seedy room,. But fuck, if he was ever desperate, it was now.
“Find it.” He ordered, letting you lead the way.
You took his hand and led him down the sidewalk. You were right, it wasn't even three full blocks away. A tall building, a large neon flower in the window, a white awning hanging above..
“Just, don’t talk, okay?” You told him as you walked inside he rolled his eyes but followed you.
A bored looking clerk sat at the desk, he had a pair of bulky headphones plugged into a walkman on his desk. A chime rang out as you entered, but the music must have been too loud, he didn't flinch. He didn't move until you approached the desk. He ripped off his headphones as though you were his boss catching him slacking off, but his frightened eyes grew suspicious as he took in the pair of you. Your shirt was buttoned wrong, your tie was lost somewhere, as was your jacket. Your cheek was bleeding, bruises on your neck unhidden by the haphazard collar. Kishibe looked no better, blood on his shirt, which was missing quite a few buttons, tie still on, but barely, his hair was a mess. His usual stoic scowl had been replaced with a harsh glare trained directly at the clerk, his foot tapping like a caged animal.
“Excuse me, hello. We would like to check in.” You tried your best to sound casual.
“Um…” The clerk hesitated.
“We’re…”You thought on your feet and said the first thing that you could think of, “Engaged! We just got engaged, I mean. And our..in laws! Yes, our in-laws are in town and we don't have a lot of privacy and we just want to…celebrate.”
The clerk eyed you both again, analysing you and Kishibe individually and no doubt trying to parse together how you would fit as a couple.
“We would like an overnight room.” You continued, trying to remind him of the actual task at hand.
Kishibe was stunned by your plan, by how bold it was, and how poorly you were pulling it off. You worked at a secret (ish) organization, for fuck’s sake. But he was amused by your efforts, so he doubled down with you.
He wrapped a big arm around your shoulder, leaning over the desk, “Maybe something with a tub.”
The clerk nodded, whatever was in front of him was none of his business, he saw plenty of strange pairs come through the lobby. And anywhere there was no way he was getting his ass kicked by this guy at his current pay rate.
“Yeah…okay,I just need a credit card to put on file.” He finally explained.
Your wallet was safely tucked in the car, you didn’t have anything. You hadn’t even considered this part, how could you have not thought about this? Kishibe pulled a leather card carrier from his coat pocket, not a credit card but his Public Safety clearance badge and slapped it down on the counter.
“How’s that card work?” He hissed.
The clerk scanned it briefly, sighing, probably lamenting the admissions given to government workers and retrieved a key from the corkboard behind him and handed it over.
“Whatever man, just don't break anything.” He had checked out of the conversation the moment Kishibe had approached, he put his headphone back on, “Fifth floor. Check out is at 10am.”
Kishibe took the key and his badge and pulled you toward the elevator.
“Thank you!” You waved to the clerk, just barely getting it out before the elevator doors closed.
You had half expected Kishibe to pounce on you the moment they did, but he stayed still. Watching the numbers above the door illuminate and dim.
“So when’s the wedding?” He finally spoke at the illumination of the third floor.
“Shut up, it got us here, didn’t it?” You laughed.
“Right, it was your stellar in-law cock block story that got us up here, and not the government issued free pass badge.”, He cracked a smile.
You both laughed, the chime of the elevator alerted you the doors would open on the fifth floor. The tag on the key was for room 5102, close to the elevator. Kishibe pressed you forward by your waist, leading you out of the elevator and down a few doors to the room. He unlocked the door and you stepped inside. The room was fine, a large king bed placed in front of a boxy, but relatively new tv. A radio clock on one night stand, a lamp on the other. The door shut and locked behind you, Kishibe fasted the chain lock, the dead bolt, and the handle lock, then turned back to you. He saw the abrasion on your cheek, the blood beginning to dry. He took your face in his hands, running his thumb along the outside of it. Guilt pulled at the back of his brain, but fuck he couldnt hold out anymore, he circled his other arm around your back and pulled you in to his mouth. Without the urgency, without the danger, he could kiss you and feel like he earned it. He kissed you deeply, tilting your head back, tasting your mouth, pushing you back toward the bed. You melted in his arms, finally feeling them for how sturdy and safe they could be. Your tongue pushed against his, his hand frond your hair, you found the front of his pants, unbuttoning them quickly. Where his belt had gone was a mystery, but none of your concern. You pushed them off his legs until your knees met the edge of the mattress. You tugged at the rest of your shirt buttons, pulling it off of you and tossing it aside, your tie followed. He finally let you leave his kiss to pull his own shirt over his head and off, his coat seeming to have disappeared. You both shuffled out of your pants and underwear, You reached behind to unclasp your bra, shrugging it down your arms. The process taking only seconds but feeling like a frigid, isolated eternity separated from him. It was like you were magnetized, pulled together by a gravitational force that took everything in you to resist. He stood in front of you, bare, studying your figure, trying to commit every inch of your body to memory. Every freckle, every scar, every bend and shadow of muscle, every fold, everything. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was, to see you in your truest form, wanton and waiting. He thanked whatever evil caused this Devil’s creation, and cursed himself in the same breath for doing so. But trailing his hands up your curves, to take hold of your full, perfect breasts, he found himself brought to his knees before you, a zealot at the altar of you. You let him push you back onto the bed, the cushioned mattress underneath you was nirvana compared to the grit and gravel he had taken you on before. Your legs spread themselves, no longer needing your guidance, no longer held together by your barely removed pants. Kishibe’s wet tongue moved up your leg, he could taste your sweat, and he reveled in it until he found his next vice, your legs were still coated in the arousal that leaked from you, sticking to your skin under your pants and now coating his tongue, destroying his mind. Or what was left of it.
Tasting you brought him higher and higher, cleaning your soiled thighs, swirling his tongue over the top of your knee, flattening the soft hairs with his tongue, spit laying them flat in his wake. Your hips jerked up as he joined you on the bed, agile body moving between your legs. He pulled your legs further apart, not bothering to look at your face. No, his eyes were fixed on your pussy as you spread open for him. Your perfect, drooly, needy cunt parting itself, drawing him forward. He made no effort to stop the line of saliva that dripped from the corner of his mouth, he didn’t even feel it. He didn’t feel anything, anything except hunger, except want, except need. Perfect folds and layers, ready for him, begging for his touch, you really were made for him. In a single look he forgot every piece of fine art he ever saw, every inch of his earth that any numb skull could have called glorious, he knew glory now. True glory. And he needed it to be his, to claim it for his own.
Kishibe had moved to his knees, hands firm on your legs to either side of him, hunched over your body, you felt shy under such an intense stare, right to where you were most vulnerable. You reached up and brushed your fingertips over his cheek and back around his ear bringing his attention back to your face.
“Kishibe…”You moaned in a whisper.
You looked so desperate underneath him, the pillow lucky to be graced with your hair, him, even luckier to bear witness to such beauty. Your mouth hung open slightly, pupils blown out under heavy lidded eyes. Your breasts rising shakily with panting breaths.
“Please, I can’t wait anymore, Kishibe please,” You begged, tugging him by his neck, “Fuck me.”
The jolt that sent through his body could knock out every electrical grid in Japan. He pulls your hips down to him, then lifts them to be level with his own. Holding you up with one hand, his other aligns his cock with the hole he could now picture with perfect clarity. His dark eyes caught yours, he watches them fly open as he penetrates you. Finally able to take you how he needs, he is able to slide into you deliciously, pressing against your g spot. Your back arches up under his hand, but he follows, not able to stand being parted from you. It would take an act of God to remove him, at this point. Your tight walls tremble around him, working their hardest to allow him inside. It was bizarre, impossible, inhuman. You subconsciously press against his stomach. Pushing him away, unable to handle the deluge of pleasure and pressure he is causing.
He grips your hips harder, bruising them, and presses into you more, “where do you think you’re going.”
You whimper as he presses against your cervix, grabbing at the bed sheets, trying to leverage your hips back, but finding the bed is blocking your escape. And still your legs wrap around his hips, torn between trying to pull him inside further, and trying to free yourself. One of his rough hands leaves your hip and he takes your hand in his, interlocking your fingers. You melt back down into the bed, giving him the room to pull his hips back. Kishibe leans over you, laying you back on the bed, blocking out the still illuminated overhead light with his shoulder as he thrusts into you again. He squeezes your hand harder with every thrust. His lips find your neck again, your hands wrap around his neck, tangling in his soft, white hair. He fucks into you fast, pushing himself, and your poor body to their limits, you have no choice but to hold on and succumb to the waves of pleasure.
He kisses you again, lips hot and swollen, “So good.”
He repeats it like a mantra, again and again as he bottoms out inside and pulls back. He can’t do anything but repeat it. The friction, your lips, finally having you for himself since this whole ordeal began, he can’t last.
The praise, the feeling of him inside, the relief of a bed under you, the feeling of his pelvis rocking against your clit, it all becomes too much and you feel yourself tighten around him. You know he feels it too because he grips your hand and breaks the kiss to cry out in delicious agony.
“Don’t--.”Is all he manages to let out before his climax blinds him, the lamp light blooming white and over taking all his senses.
The obscene sounds he makes and the sight of his pleasure scrunched face push you to follow him, cumming for the third time.
His cock pulses inside of you, painting your insides with his cum. He feels like it will never end, he doesn’t want it too. Kishibe wants to see your tummy swollen, a trail of cum dripping out from between your legs, your face covered in it, your tongue full of it. He wants you full, inside and out, marked as his, full of him, for all to see. He wants you round and pregnant, showing off everything he has done to you. He wants to see you helpless and bred, full breasts ready to be fed from.
He’s losing his fucking mind.
He had never wanted children in his life, he made medically sure of it nearly two decades ago, but right now if he could stitch it back together himself he would. Coming back to himself, he sees you panting below him, and nearly cums again. Your mouth hinges open, and your tongue flops out.
“Spit.” You huff.
His face must have betrayed his surprise.
“Please, I need it, please,” You please, “Spit in my mouth, please, Kishi.”
He takes your face in his left hand, tilting it back, extending your mouth even more with his thumb on your chin. He lets a full, slow string of saliva fall from his mouth into yours, watching it slip down your tongue. You lap it up eagerly, leaning up to lick some stray fluid off of his chin. Your pussy squeezes him again as you move. You keen back happily, the taste of him in your mouth, and the feeling of him inside of you bringing you a blissful feeling of balance.
“Nasty girl…”He chides, leaning back onto his knees, watching your eyes flutter closed.
A smile upturns your perfect lips, “mmmmmhm.”
“I have to pull out now.” He warns, you let out a long, displeased whine as he does.
Coming down from your own high, you catch your breath on the bed, only reopening your eyes when the bed sinks next to you, you turn your neck to him. His flushed, bruises on his neck, his chest, scratch marks on his arms and chest, the two red bursts in his eyes, you hadn’t realized you were so rough on him. He looked over your figure, seeing the abrasions on your chest from the brick, the marks of his teeth, the bruises his hands left on your body, the cut on your cheek. A Pair.
You brush a disarranged hair off his temple, gentle fingers feeling the sweat cooling on his brow.
“How do you feel?” You whispered, voice hoarse.
He moves onto his back beside you, taking your hand in his, kissing the back, and bringing it down to his chest, over his heart. You could feel the rhythm steadying itself.
“Coming down.” He studies your face, “How do you feel?”
You nodded, “Good, a little sore.”
“Do you think it’s over?”
You shrugged, “I feel better? Less like I am going to die, which is good.”
He nodded, his mind was clearing, the virus releasing its hold on him. He tried to remember his usual bedside manner,“You should probably…you know…”
You smiled again, moving carefully to sit up, “I didn’t expect you to be so diligent about UTI avoidance.”
He leaned up on his elbow, “You don’t know me as well as you think.”
“I like what I’m learning.” You flirted, standing and walking to the small bathroom.
Kishibe watched your behind sway as you left him. Once the door was shut behind you, he fell on his back staring up to the ceiling. Everything that had transpired tonight flashed through his mind, his cock had hardly softened but now it ached again. Would this ever be over? And when it did, what would become of you two. The poison still plagued his mind, it was a logical jump to assume it was still affecting you too. He didn’t know how to be around you after this, he couldn’t even begin to picture the logistics of bringing you back to work, seeing you everyday and knowing everything he knew now. He wanted to know what you thought, if you felt differently about him, if this was a bizarre, horrible accident that ruined any kind of real feeling that could have existed between the two of you. He couldn’t bear waiting anymore, he had to be close to you again before this ended. He stood, joints clicking, dick hard, and crossed to the bathroom door. He knocked.
“Yeah?” your voice rang from the other side of the door.
He hesitated, pressing his forehead against the wood, fighting back the words that were about to come out, “Can I come in?”
You were silent behind the door for a few seconds, he wasn't sure how he expected you to respond.
“Sure, it’s unlocked.” Your voice came again.
He turned the nob and opened the door, you were standing at the sink, cleaning the cut on your cheek.
“Got lonely in there?” You smiled at him through the mirror, and it warmed his fearful chest.
Kishibe wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you from behind as you carried on dabbing a cool cloth on your face. He hummed an affirmative response, against your neck, smelling deep the smell of your skin. He occupied himself pressing kisses to your neck and shoulder while you finished. His eyelashes tickled behind your ear and you caught his eyes in the mirror as you giggled.
“You’re clingier after sex than I expect.”
He kept your gaze in the mirror, “Expected, huh? Thought about this before?”
Why lie, call it exhaustion, or maybe the poison was still working on you, “Yeah.”
He didn’t flinch, still looking at you through the glass, “Me too.” he confessed.
You turned in his hold, the reflection no longer enough of a view for you, you had to look at his face, his real face.
“So why didn’t we ever…?”
He shrugged, “Didn’t seem right,” but that wasn’t the full truth, “Didn’t want to lose you.”
You were touched by his admission, his vulnerability. Certainly the influence of adrenaline crash and hormonal endorphins racing through both of you. You felt your throat tighten, your tear ducts start to burn. Sex always complicated things, especially when jobs and feelings were involved. Depending on how the morning played out, this could be the last time you had the chance to be exposed and alone with him.
“I don’t want to lose you either.” One hot tear fell from your eye, stinging your freshly cleaned cheek.
Kishibe wiped the tear away, his face still as unreadable as ever, “then you won't. Not yet.”
“What do you want? From all of this, I mean.” You asked him, not accusation or malice in your voice.
Kishibe sighed, smoothing your hair and holding your face, “I want to enjoy being here with you, while we work this out of our systems. Tomorrow morning I would like to drive you home, so you can rest. We will file the report, be only as honest as we want to be, give the sample to the lab, clock out, and then figure it out from there.”
Then he moved his hands down to your shoulders, pulling you even closer and kissing you hard. A kiss that was devoid of the Devil’s influence, no hungry, tasting tongue, no hot, fevered breath. Just his lips sealed to yours, your body pressed against his, and a promise to try. When he pulled away he spoke again,
“But right now I want us both to get in that tub.”
The night didn’t end there, the waves of fervent arousal lapped over both of you again and again, but the tide had gone out. The coast was cleared, leaving a sparkling landscape on which the both of you could relax.
Epilogue
The bath had been the perfect remedy for your bruised and abused body. It soothed Kisibe’s aching joints. He washed and rinsed the debris out of your hair, you cleaned the blood off of his hands and neck. His fingers worked over you, bringing you a slower, gentler climax. Back in the bed, clean and dry, you reciprocated his generosity. Sucking, kissing, swallowing everything he had given to you so brazenly before. Laying together in the dark, sleep was hard to find. Whenever you thought it would overtake you, bringing you back into an embrace to pleasure yourselves and each other. Eventually, morning came. Whether you had woken up to the sunlight, or you were too engaged to realize it had come up, was unclear.
You left the hotel in the early afternoon, returning to the car which had a citation for exceeding the parking meter. Kishibe drove you back to your apartment, pulling up and parking outside.
“Okay.” He turned to you, the light of day illuminating complexities that hadn’t yet been considered, “They won't be expecting us back until tomorrow, anyway. So you should try and get some sleep.”
You nodded, “Yeah. Thanks for the ride.”
“Anytime.”
“I meant the car.” You teased.
He chuckled. You didn’t want to get out, you weren’t ready to be done. Tomorrow would mean talking about what happened, reports had to be filed, incident reports, lab tests, possibly declaration of relationship forms. You gnawed on your lip. Kishibe watched you closely, seeing you weigh out each thought, waiting for the perfect way to phrase what you were after.
You met his eyes, the devious flicker in your eye that he now knew the motivations of intimately shining at him once again,“You wanna come upstairs, take a nap and fool around a little?”
Kishibe sucked in a breath through a sly smile, his exhausted cock already jumping forward at the chance.
“Absolutely I do.”
Thank you for reading!!! I hope you enjoyed, I really enjoyed writing this piece and I hope that comes through!! Fuck I want this man so bad. literally so bad.
Let me know your thoughts, I always love hearing what you do/dont like. Anyway, thanks again! See you next time!
- Doodle <3
-Reader is described as an angel, innocent, soft! I tried to make it as gn as possible, it's my first time writing smut
𖹭𖹭𖹭
Imagine Leon Kennedy that finds himself a soft innocent looking partner, the kind of person that everyone could take one look at and go 'they're an angel', sweet smile, bright eyes and all.
Leon would absolutely be gentle and caring towards them, wanting to shield his partner from the horrors he went through, wanting to keep them safe and sound. Obviously he would be careful with them on their first time together because who wouldn't? No one wants to ruin such an innocent angel right?
Imagine Leon's surprise when he found out his partner is a devil in disguise. The innocence? It's only skin deep and he quickly learns his partner is a rather wildcard in bed, wanting to be choked, spanked, bred, filled, marked with hickeys and fucked dumb, begging for more, for him to go harder and faster even after he came inside, filling them to the brim.
synopsis: spontaneous decisions, something everyone makes every once in a while. well that’s what you did today, you bought tickets to go see figure skaters. you brought along your best friend to see the performance, little did you know. the performance wouldn’t be the only thing you were paying attention too…
note: this is a one shot that i posted on ao3 but now it’s here, this work is one of my old ones so it might be a bit bad so sorry about that!!
word count: 2k
JANURARY 9TH, 2008 ❀࿐
figure skating, something youve always admired.
the way the skaters glide on the ice, their hair moving in the breeze, the routine that they constantly practice to look amazing on the ice.
"hey! lets hurry up we're gonna be late!" your friends says from over your shoulder as you apply your mascara
"we'll be on time dont worry! besides that line to get in is gonna be long as hell" you said reassuringly, your friend just nodded along and sprawled out on your bed. waiting for you to finish getting ready
once you were finished getting ready, you two order an uber and make the commute there
the car ride was quiet, only the faint sound of the radio and car humming could be heard in the car, you triple-checked your tickets.
making sure they werent for another date or if the show was cancelled
your friend notices you spam-checking your phone, she places a hand on your shoulder. and reassuringly states "dont freak out! its gonna be great.."
her simple words calmed you for the rest of the night, feeling at peace once you stepped outside the car
the cool air breeze hit you like a brick, your uber driver waves you both goodbye and speeds off
you and your friend wait in the long queue to get your tickets scanned, the ice rink was huge! modern architecture surrounding it, big banners were hung outside for the event.
showcasing the figure skaters faces and poses, it practically looked like something straight out of a movie!
once you and your friend got to the front of the line, the clerk looks up and simply states "tickets please?"
you and your friend both showed your phones in unison , the clerk nodded and let you guys both in through a big open entrance. leading to the seats and food
"holy shit!" you stated as you looked up, the building was much more larger than you imagined. you strolled around and took pictures with your friend before the show started, trying to capture every moment here..
that was until, a white haired man bumps by you. in a.. figure skater uniform? i thought the skaters were supposed to be practicing?!
"im so sorry, doll!" he says as he ruffles his messy hair, you glance up at him and simply state "its fine.." you had the urge to say something else, it was practically impossible to contain
"are you the one performing?" you said blatantly like that wasnt plain obvious, your friend. who was next to you, face palmed herself and gave you a 'are you serious?' look
"well duh! look at how im dressed up!" he says after flashing a cheeky grin, he makes a little pose. gesturing to his figure skater attire. "i better see ya cheering for me, sweetheart" he said teasingly as he pinched your cheek
you flushed pink as you saw him stroll away, a few tall men in suits slowly following behind him. most likely security guards , you thought to yourself
you shake that thought away and began to walk up the stairs with your friend to where everyone was seated, you pass through everyone in the crowd and see the beautiful ice rink. all polished and ready for the figure skaters
you made your way through the big large aisle and made it to your seats, you and your friend both got settled and eventually heard a voice over the big speakers
"welcome everyone! the show will be starting soon, our first performance will be from Satoru Gojo"
you didn't recognize that name but as soon as he stepped onto the ice you definitely recognized his face
the music began to start as he slid gracefully across the ice, landing his axels perfectly you watched in admiration, leaning in your seat slightly as your friend laughed slightly at the sight. which earned her a hush from someone sitting next to you two
once the performance was over, he took a bow and ever so comically, roses were thrown at the rink as he held one in his hands
you applauded as the rest of the crowd did aswell, your friend nudged your shoulder and stated "were you paying attention to the performance or him?"
you laughed and looked at her with a smile on your face "what do ya think?"
the rest of the performances were a blur, satoru was the only thing on your mind
once the performance finally ended, many got up to leave quickly but you and your friend waited for everyone to get up and leave first before you two decided to get up
after 15 minutes pass, you two decided to get up finally and walk down the steps and head to the long hallway
you made it out the arena doors and stood outside to order an uber, your friend excused herself somewhere away from you to take an important call about something
you were on your phone, watching the uber drivers location like a hawk until you feel a soft tap on your shoulder
a girl with a black bob and professional attire met your gaze "i dont mean to startle you, but my boss wants a date with you"
you stutter for a few seconds, mouth slightly agaped as you managed to sputter out "why couldnt he ask me himself?"
"hes a busy guy, and trust me you've spoken to him before" she reassured, you had your slight suspicion and wanted to confirm it even if it sounded crazy
"is it that one white-haired figure skater, satoru gojo?" "right on the money!" she said with a smile, she shoves you a small paper with his number
"you dont have to text him, you have free will!" she said as she walked away, heading back inside the arena
You stared at the crumped slip of paper, you made a face of discomfort almost. Not believing that he wouldn’t just approach you
After a few seconds of standing around mindlessly, your friend returns from her overly long phone call and gives you a glance
“What’s the piece of paper for?” “Dude! That figure skater guy apparently wants to take me out on a date, can you believe-“ “WHAAATT?!” Your friend cuts you off, she places her hands on your shoulders and shakes you violently “IF YOUR DUMBASS DOESN’T SAY YES TO THAT DATE I SWEAR I’LL KILL YOU MYSELF! DO IT! DO IT!” Your friend yelled, earning a few stares from the people passing by the arena
You groaned and gave into the peer pressure, you took out your phone and typed in the digits of the number. You fumbled around with your phone, trying to find to right words for a good first impression through text
The uber driver finally pulls up, she unlocks the car door and confirms your name for the ride. Then finally once you and your friend are both buckled up, the car began moving
“What are you gonna say?” Your friend said while peering over your phone like a damn hawk "I dunno really… help me, please” you said ,desperately. Your friend snatches your phone out of your hands and begins to type ‘hey your assistant gave me your # , is this Satoru Gojo?’
Your friend hands you back your phone, she looks at you with an excited expression “C’mon! Send, send, send!” She says while chanting on, you let out a heavy sigh and pressed send
The blue message immediately sends, you put your phone down and the nerves started kicking in, what if this was the wrong number? What if it’s a prank? What if he just uses me for his own good and-
Your brain was cut off from your own thoughts when you heard a ‘PING!’ Notification on your phone, your friend looks at the screen. An unknown number popping up, the same number that was supposedly Satoru’s
‘Hey pretty, its Satoru Gojo alright.. I’ll just cut to the chase. When I first saw you before the show I already had my eyes on you, I would love to take you out on a date, anywhere you’d like I promise I’ll make it special. Not like any other date’
You looked at the message on the screen, your friend looks at you. Eyebrows raised and mouth on the floor, your face of shocks turns into one of pure bliss and happiness
You reached for your phone and texted back almost immediately, ‘wow never knew you were so upfront! And I’d love to go on a date with you, send me the details’ you typed away with a fat smile on your face
As you sent that message, another one pops up almost immediately ‘5:00 pm, I’ll pick you up, steakhouse, then a walk on the beach’ you nodded your head at the idea and texted back ‘you got it’
JANURARY 10TH, 2008 ❀࿐
you had been pacing around your room all morning and afternoon, waiting for 5pm you had already texted satoru your address, but you still constantly checked just to make sure it was actually your address and not some typo google maps did
your friend had to call you multiple times, just to make sure that you didnt die from excitement. cause that really would be a bummer..
the time struck 2:00 pm, sharp. you took an everything shower, scrubbing and putting in treatments in your hair like your life depended on it. you stepped out your bathroom after an hour, the steam following behind you as you made your way to your room
you had already planned your outfit, a black bandage dress with black kitten heels. something simple, you could never go wrong with that!
as you did your hair and makeup by your vanity, you watched your favorite show to try and calm your nerves. after you were finally done with getting ready, you stood up and groaned the huge mess you created in on vanity. you looked in the mirror and realized it was allll worth it, your hair was perfect, your lips were lined and glossed, your base was matte and flawless. you sighed in content, knowing you would make a good impression on this date
he sends you a message at around 4:30 pm, 'hey doll, ya ready yet?' you giggled at the nickname and replied back with a short 'yeah, u can slide through right now if ya want'
you thought that message was pushy and immediately regretted it when he didnt respond back for a good 10 minutes, you groaned as your back hit against your bed. you were thinking to yourself, this was the biggest generational fumble in history
that was until you heard a low and loud 'VROOM' from outside your house, you shot up and looked out your bedroom window to see satorus car idling outside. holding a huge bouquet of pink roses, his foot was on the gas pedal, revving his engine to get your attention.
you smiled and squealed, which earned a loud chuckle from satoru "what are you doing! get down here" he said while laughing, you snap out of a trance and closed your window you grabbed your purse and black fur jacket and made your way down the stairs, heels clacking together the entire time you walked.
you finally reached your main door, you hesitated before opening. taking a deep breath in, and a deep breath out. hoping and praying that this date actually goes well
you finally swung open the door, the concrete path leading to the sidewalk to where he was. now leaning against the car, still with his bouquet of roses. satorus breath hitched when he finally saw you up close, you looked.. beautiful. almost something out of this world he thought
he gave a giddy smile, like he was a teenager in love allll over again. he hands the roses to you "here, for you obviously.." you took the roses and smelt them "they're beautiful" "not as beautiful as you!" you laughed at his sweet comment, he opens the passenger side door for you and you hopped in.
he goes to the drivers side and starts up his nice luxury car, he steps on the gas and begins to drive to the steakhouse
the car ride wasnt silent surprisingly, satoru was a very interesting and sociable man. he couldnt stop talking, but you couldnt stop listening to his endless rambles
finally the short car ride ended, he hopped out of the car and tossed the keys to the valet assistant. once more, he opens the passenger side door for you and you hop out. still holding your obnoxiously big bouquet of roses, "ya still holding them?" satoru said as he closed the passenger side door "yeah and so what? i cant flex off these beautiful roses that a handsome figure skater gave me?"
he swoons at that comment and almost lets out a squeal, "ME? H-Handsome? You're too kind!" he said as he twirled your hair, you giggled as you linked your arm around his
"c'mon! im hungry.." you said to him as he sighed dreamily, he leads the way inside and the server directs you to a table that was already set up romantically, a singular pink rose in the small little vase
the date was cliche to say the least, you and him both ordered a salad and steak and bonded over similar qualities, you two were both funny and had great chemistry even the servers didnt want to come over to ask the regular 'anything else i can help with?' since she could tell you two were having a great conversation and out of the kindness of her heart, she didnt want to ruin that though towards the end of the date, satoru called over the server and asked for the bill and paid for both his and your meal the rest of the night was pleasant to say the least
all you remember is giggling and getting into the car with satoru and driving to the beach you were tired and rested your head against the window of his car, eyes half-lidded and ready to go to bed
satoru noticed this and opted for him to just take you home if your tired, which you refused. saying that you want to spend more time with the cute figure skater you remember being parked on the sidewalk, one block away from the beach.
he looks over at you in almost a sensual way, which you obviously caught on. and you really didnt mind it..
then one thing led to another, and his lips were brushing against yours, not exactly kissing you but just enough to rile you up. oh. that part you remember vividly.
you tilted your head to your side and kissed him needy, in which returned the same energy. kissing you back just as hard.
you latched onto his messy white hair with your right hand and used your left arm to pull him closer by draping it over his strong back. he makes a suprised expression but lets it happen, practically out of his seat as he stretches his body just to kiss you over and over again
you decided to get risky and kiss his neck, you broke the kiss in which resulted in him whining like a child.
you rolled your eyes and kissed his neck, applying wayyy to much pressure. just to see if he would react he squirms under your touch and lets out a pathetic whimper
his face heats up and covers his face in embarrassment you use your free hand to pry his hand off his face, you gave him a soft look "dont cover your face"
in which he complied obediently, almost hypnotized by your touch and gaze you got back to work and kissed his neck, occasionally nibbling at his neck to hear him react.
which obviously he did, letting out a mix of moans, and pathetic whines by the time you pulled away, his neck was filled with small little bruises and bite marks.
you wiped away your saliva away from your mouth as you practically admired your work
satoru laid there, panting and out of breath as he looked up at you
"i h-hope this isnt a one time thing.." your heart fluttered as you flashed a smile "it wont be, trust me" you said while looking at him
"also, are you sure you're good to drive me and yourself home..?" "i-i'm fine... trust m-me doll"
Warnings: dirty talk, phone sex, description of body parts, masturbation
The call always came late, usually between 1:00 AM and 3:00 AM on your end, which meant the chaos of the show was over for him, the bus was rumbling down a dark highway, and the rest of the band was either asleep or quietly dealing with their own exhaustion. Ryan needed that specific window of silence and isolation to connect.
His voice, when he finally spoke, was never the loud, arrogant one he used on stage or in interviews. It was a low, velvet rasp, weighted down by a raw, immediate intimacy that the distance always seemed to sharpen.
“Tell me you’re alone,” he'd start, the words barely a whisper, tasting of nicotine and desperation. “Tell me the door is locked, and the lights are out. I need to know this space is just ours.”
You would confirm the setting, curled under the covers, phone pressed tight to your ear, the world quiet outside your window. The sound of his breath in the receiver became the loudest thing in the room.
“Good,” he’d sigh, the relief audible. “I’ve been trying to focus on these stupid highway lines for three hours, but every mile feels like another layer of separation. I can’t sleep. I can’t write. I just need you to talk me down.”
He wouldn't jump straight into the explicit details. First, he'd ground himself, asking you to describe your outfit (or lack thereof), running his tongue over his teeth as he listened, building the tension with intense verbal imagery.
“I need you to take off that t-shirt you’re wearing,” he’d command, his voice dropping another octave. “I know it smells like me, and I know it’s too soft. I need you to feel the air on your skin. I need to imagine the contrast between your cool skin and the heat I’m feeling right now.”
As you shed the clothes, guided by his precise instructions, his language would intensify. It wasn't just physical desire; it was intellectual and possessive, he needed to own your thoughts before he owned your body.
“Tell me what you’re thinking about right now. Don’t lie. I know it’s me. I know you’re trying to remember exactly how my mouth felt on your neck the last time. Are you touching yourself yet? You’re not allowed to yet.”
He would describe his own state in lush, tortured terms, his breath catching as he spoke.
“I’m staring at the ceiling of this awful bunk, trying to calculate the exact distance between my hand and your hip. It’s unbearable. I can feel you under my skin, like a low-grade fever I can’t shake. I’m rigid, baby. Completely focused on you. You know how hard I get when I’m this desperate.”
Then came the commands, precise and isolating, focusing your attention entirely inward.
“I need you to close your eyes. I don’t want you looking at anything but the inside of your eyelids. I want you to run your hand over your stomach, slowly, yes, like that and then lower it. I need you to feel how wet I’ve made you just with my voice. You’re shaking, aren’t you? I can hear it in your breathing.”
He would always force you to acknowledge the public chaos of his life, only to dismiss it, making his current focus on you feel more vital and exclusive.
“I’ve been signing autographs all night, smiling for pictures with strangers, and all I could think about was dragging you out of the crowd and putting you on the floor of the dressing room. I want to pull that heavy quilt over your head and keep you hidden just for me. But since I can’t, you’re going to touch yourself exactly how I tell you to. You’re going to do it for me, and only for me. You’re going to tell me every single detail.”
The pace would quicken, driven by his ragged breathing and increasingly intense verbal commands. He was focused on pushing you past your edge, needing the sound of your reaction as proof of his power over the miles.
“Faster. You need to speed up. I’m losing my mind listening to you, I can’t wait. Say my name. Say you’re mine and you’re going to come for me. I need to hear it, baby. Tell me how desperate you are, how much you need me inside you right now. I want you to feel it until you can’t think anymore. Now, now.”
The connection would often be loud and messy, a collision of gasps and desperate sounds that ended with a collective, heavy silence.
The phone wouldn't hang up immediately. After the frantic energy dissipated, Ryan would stay on the line, the earlier aggression replaced by an almost unbearable softness. He was drained, grounded, and deeply possessive.
“Stay right there,” he’d whisper, his voice thick with exhaustion. “Just breathe. Don't move your hand. I need you to just lay there and remember what I made you say. You belong to me, right? Even three thousand miles away, you only belong to me.”
He wouldn’t let you go until the sun was just beginning to touch the horizon on your side of the country. He needed your voice to carry him past the sleepless, solitary hours on the road.
“I’m going to try and sleep now,” he’d finally concede, his voice barely audible. “But don't forget me. Don't you dare forget what I did to you tonight. Be ready for the next call. I love you.”
