#master kishibe

“You… you can’t be serious, oneechan.” Denji was staring at you with an udon noodle hanging between his lips. You chuckled at Denji’s constant use of calling you “big sis” — Aki had reprimanded him forever ago about using formalities with you. You had told him senpai was far too much and that calling you oneechan was fine. Still, it made you chuckle that it was the only nickname he ever stuck too with no bribery needed. Aki still used the gum tactic to get Power and Denji to use the correct terms while addressing him.

“I am serious.” The smile never left your face, watching as Denji slurped his noodle the rest of the way. “But why? He’s so old! Hell he’s over half your age! Ain’t he like 50 or something? And you’re like 20-something? I doubt he can even get his dick hard!” You rolled your eyes, laughter bubbling in your chest as Denji’s clear shock at your crush on his mentor. You’d known Kishibe since you joined public safety a few years prior, having worked alongside Aki when it came to training under the man’s brutal regime.

“Oh I doubt that. Kishibe is a man of experience, he probably has over 30 years worth with women.” Denji still couldn’t see how that would appeal to you, if anything he thought it should be a turn off. “That’s 30 years of use. You’ll probably catch a disease.” At that you couldn’t help but snort, putting your cigarette to your lips and inhaling. “Just think about it for a second, Denji. Wouldn't you want a woman that knows what she’s doing? One that would know how to take care of you?”

“I mean yeah, but maybe a woman that’s only a couple years older than me. You’re going after a man that was well into adulthood by the time you were born.” You shook your head, finding it rather funny that Denji was seemingly peeved by this. “That’s real bold coming from you, Denji-kun.” The blonde quirked his eyebrow, eyeing you suspiciously as he went in for yet another helping. “You and your crush on Makima? The fact that she seems to reciprocate your advances? Kinda a similar situation… but mine is legal.”

You shrugged your shoulders, blowing the smoke you had inhaled. “Yah, whatever… go for your creepy old man then.” He stuck his tongue out as you rolled your eyes, a victorious smile still present on your lips. “No really…” he drawled softly “he’s right there.” You froze, head whipping around to the direction Denji had motioned to. Sure enough, Kishibe was sitting at the bar, a glass of whisky in front of him… typical. You turned back to Denji, utterly mortified. “You don’t think he heard us, do you?” The blonde shrugged, a shit eating grin creeping up his face.

“Denji!” You whisper yelled this time, face growing warm. “Huh?” He spoke a little louder than necessary “I don’t think he heard? What’s the big deal anyways? Ain’t you want him to know? So you can like…actually do something about ya crush?” He drawled loudly, enough to draw a few wandering eyes to your table. “N-not the point! Shut up!” You were snuffing out your cigarettes on the underside of the table seconds later, ready to make a quick escape before Kishibe could even notice you there.

The problem being, you knew your old mentor fairly well. It was more than likely that he was already aware of your presence. Not only that but you were nearly positive he’d probably heard you and Denji talking about him. You wouldn’t be able to escape him unless you put a conscious effort into sneaking out of here. Even then, he’d find a way to corner you and ask you what the hell was going on. “Eh, whatever oneechan… at least I have the guts to go for the people I like.” Now you knew you were done for.

If Denji was going to make this a game of confidence, you’d have to do your “big sister” duties and simply one up him. “You’re a pain in my ass.” You scoffed, watching the grin return to the blonde’s face as you pushed your chair out. “You can thank me later.” Was all he said, returning to his udon as you made your way to the bar. “Captain Kishibe.” You fought to keep your voice steady. Kishibe turned to look at you, the usual stoic expression on his face.

“Come to talk to the creepy old man sitting alone at the bar?” He chimed softly, watching your face morph into embarrassment as he confirmed your biggest fear. He heard everything you and Denji had said. “Blame blondey over there for that nickname. Guessing that if you heard what Denji had to say you also heard what I had to say.” Your arms clasped behind your back, fidgeting with your fingers nervously as you waited for him to speak.

Kishibe swirled his glass around, watching the amber liquid slosh before he brought it to his lips and downed the rest. “Oh, I did. Not that I’m shocked… you’re far more transparent with your emotions than you think you are, y/n.” You could have melted on the spot, seeped straight into the floorboards and disappeared forever. Instead, you shifted your weight from foot to foot, willing yourself to grow some confidence and test the waters. It didn’t seem he was necessarily shutting you down just yet.

“Well… I guess this was a pretty lame ass way of saying I have a thing for my old mentor.” Kishibe leaned back, eyes shutting briefly as he inhaled through his nose. “You’re just looking for someone to show you a good time. Tell me, have you ever actually enjoyed any of the men you’ve slept with?” His eyes opened and he turned to face you fully now, tapping the wooden top of the bar twice to signal that he was ready to pay his tab. “Truthfully, no.” A breathy chuckle left him, one that sent shivers down your spine.

“I see. I guess that would make it my duty, Hmm? Your old mentor has to show you the ropes… show you the good from the bad. A private lesson, if you would.” You didn’t quite know how to react, your brain working in overdrive to try and process the words he had just spoken. “S-so you’re saying you’ll…” you flinched at your own stutter, watching Kishibe eye you carefully. “That I’ll show you how a man properly satisfies a lady? Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying, Sugar.” Your heart jumped at the nickname.

You found it hard to speak, instead you kept your mouth shut and watched your old mentor pay his tab before grabbing his coat off the back of his chair. “I paid for the fool’s meal as well as yours, he’ll get home on his own just fine. Let’s go.” Kishibe was heading towards the door, you waited till he was facing away to shoot Denji a look. The blonde seemed a bit awestruck that you were already leaving with him, you just shrugged as you left. You’d probably have to apologize the next time you saw him.

Before you knew it you were slipping into the passenger side of Kishibe’s car, thanking him softly for opening and closing the door for you. He slipped on the other side a moment later, turning the key so the engine roared to life. “I didn’t think you were the car type.” You commented softly, eyes scanning the amount of gadgets that littered the dashboard. The car’s interior was all black leather, that was at least something you expected from him.

“I’m not but the holiday bonus was nice and I needed an upgrade anyways.” He cracked his window, lighting up a cigarette before pulling out of the restaurant’s small lot and out into the bustling street. You didn’t expect him to be nervous, nor did you expect him to be awkward about the situation. Yet you were practically squirming in your seat, hoping he’d show some sort of nervousness to help you feel less inexperienced.

His cigarette hung half hazardously from his lips, one hand on the wheel while the other came down to rest on your thigh. You nearly choked on your own saliva, heat pooling in your gut at the simple action. “Amuse me, would you? What’s the best thing a guy has done for you, Hmm?” Smoke puffed out around his cigarette, eyes locked on the road as he waited for your response. “Offer to walk me home.” You admitted sheepishly, not quite sure how he’d react to such a lame response. It was true your taste in men hadn’t really benefited you in any way up until now.

He let out a gruff laugh, slowing down as he pulled up to a red light and plucked the cigarette from his lips. “That’s it? Seriously? Where the hell are you finding these bummy men?” You weren’t sure why his clear annoyance affected you the way it did, but you found yourself struggling to not press your thighs together. A small effort to relieve some of the ache, you knew if you moved your legs even a little he’d feel it. Then again, he was driving you back to his apartment to fuck you… would it really matter? “No need to be tense.” He murmured softly, hand squeezing your thigh.

“…’m not tense.” A stupid lie but it made him chuckle so you couldn’t really be mad at it. “Let me help you relax.” The cigarette was back between his lips, hand on the wheel as the light turned green. Kishibe pushed on your thigh, silently asking you to spread them. It took your brain a few seconds to properly respond, spreading them just enough that he could fit his hand between them. “Atta girl…” smoke puffed out around his lips once again, filling your nose in an almost intoxicating way. You were a bit shocked by the praise, nearly letting a whimper slip out.

The man you knew as your mentor was certainly not the same as the man sitting beside you. Then again you doubted he would ever woo the amount of women he did with his mentor attitude. Kishibe’s hand gingerly crept up your thigh before dipping between to cup your panty covered cunt. You mentally thanked yourself for wearing a skirt, giving the man in the driver's seat easy access to where you wanted him the most. He could feel your warmth radiating through the thin material, on top of that he could tell you were already wet.

Kishibe exhaled deeply, forcing himself to remain focused on the road even though he’d really like to look over and gauge your reaction. Truthfully, he had been waiting patiently for quite some time now for you to be the one to make the first move. He wasn’t lying when he said you were transparent with your emotions, but even then he didn’t want to risk creating awkward situations. He was getting old after all, a fifty year old man going for a woman in her twenties would certainly look terrible on his part if the other party didn’t reciprocate.

Maybe he was just a creepy old pervert for thinking that way.

Regardless, it was starting to get hard to ignore the persistent stiffness between his own legs. You’re breathing had hitched, suddenly dizzied by the fact that his hands were already on you. Two fingers pressed against the wetmark on your panties, drawing a sigh from your lips as he rubbed the material softly. “You’re more excited than you let on.” it was an off hand comment, one that had your fingers gripping the door handle to keep yourself grounded. Kishibe’s fingers slid along your slit, settling over your pulsing clit.

“You’ve said no man has ever satisfied you… I take it because he didn’t know where this was…” he pressed down, sending a shock of pleasure through you. Your mouth opened but nothing came out, slowly he began rubbing tentative circles, making sure you keep his fingers on the cloth of your panties. He wouldn’t let you feel his bare fingers just yet. More smoke puffed out, filling the car briefly before being sucked out the window. “I asked you a question, sugar.” you turned to look at him, face warm as his fingers continued to pleasure you. “T-that would be right…”

“Every woman is different, is this good for you?” you knew he was referring to his current action. “Y-yeah but…” you reached for his hand, placing yours over his as you guided him to a faster tempo. Kishibe took the reins again instantly, chuckling softly as you let out a soft moan. “Hmm, that better?” it was low, enough you send shivers through you as your hips jerked into his hand. “Need more…” you couldn’t quite figure out what specifically you needed, you just knew you needed more of him. “I know.” was all he said, fingers working you up continuously as he drove.

Part of you had to wonder if he was even driving you to his apartment at this point. It felt like you were going in circles around the city as he got you off in his front seat. Before you knew it, you felt your orgasm creeping up on you. “S-shit…” you clenched around nothing, the tension in your gut had appeared a lot quicker than usual. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” he teased softly, fingers picking up speed ever so slightly. You mumbled out some sort of ‘yes’, gasping softly as the tension continued to build.

Maybe it was the combination of everything, Kishibe, his hand, the fact that he was doing this almost absentmindedly while driving through the city, everything was edging you on. “Then cum for me. Show me how much of a little slut you are. I mean really, you’re going to cum from me rubbing you through your panties. You’ll ruin them.” You whined at his words, the tension building so intensely that you were certain you’d fall apart. “Atta girl…cum for me” encouraged again, rolling to a stop at yet another red light.

He looked over at you know, the sudden motion causing you to turn to look at him. “C’mon… no need to hold back.” he sneered, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. You felt your lower lip tremble, head turning to look back at the road as your orgasm crashed down over you. Breathless gasps escaped your lips, hand shooting down to hold Kishibe’s wrist as he continued to work you through your ogasm. “…ough… enough…” you squeaked, overstimulation taking over as the light turned green.

He only slowed because of the light turning green, hand never retracting from where it was between your legs. “Here we are.” He commented offhand, pulling into the parking lot of his apartment building. You blinked, the throb already returning. “Hope you’re not worn out… I haven’t even gotten to show you a proper good time.” He pulled into a numbered space, shifting into park and plucking the nearly gone cigarette from his lips. You watched him put it out on an ashtray in his cup holder, turning the car off a moment later.

Kishibe’s apartment was the easiest to spot. A grimy layer covered his window panes, and his weathered loafers were haphazardly chucked by the doorframe. You raised your hand to ring the bell, and heard a soft grunt followed by a short clang, his presence swallowing the tiny doorway as he bore down on you. 

“Oh,” he gruffly murmured, raking his dark eyes down your barely clad form. “You’re on time.” 

Dipping your head forward, you murmured, “Hello, Kishibe-san.” 

He brought you into his home, kicking aside some empty bottles that had toppled over when he rushed to get the door. The apartment he owned wasn’t exactly the neatest. A Devil Hunter had no need of useless comfort—chaos was their preferred design palette. 

His sofa was threadbare and second-hand. The rickety table and chair set was bought from a vintage store. His plates were passed down from dead colleagues whose grieving widows mindlessly gave to him months after he first arrived to depart the heartbreaking news. 

But, he had tried to clean up before you arrived. Most of his empty bottles were thrown away. Cigarette ashes were swept up and tossed into his brimming bin. He even tried to light a scented candle and dimmed the fluorescent bulbs, an act which would’ve made him bristle if this were for any other woman.

You weren’t just any woman. Fresh-faced, in your early twenties and with spunk, Kishibe had first met you in a bar downtown. The night was long and he was tired. Ordering a drink, he settled back, about to down it in one go when a tinkling laughter caught his attention. Dressed in a black strapless piece and with an uncertain smile directed towards your raucous friend, any asshole within a three mile radius could tell that this group of young women were thirsting for more than drinks.

Kishibe tapped the rim of his glass on his chin, watching from the shadows as you scolded your friends to drink slower, and kept a keen eye on their drinks so no one would spike them. He swore he had his fill of innocent, uptight women, but something about you, how your shoulders were strung with tension, made him imagine you in the throes of ecstasy where you would finally relax. 

The thought was appealing to his dick, and he clocked out his hesitance in exchange for approaching you when you came out of the bathroom. It took a few minutes of convincing, but you abandoned your rowdy friends in favour of sitting next to him, sipping a glass of red he bought for you. Later that night, when your entire group was hanging from street lamps and puking into drains, he offered to send you back home. 

“I can’t, I have to take care of them,” you confessed and added as an afterthought, “I’m the designated driver.” 

“So?” he murmured, clamping a white stick between his teeth, and fumbling for his lighter. “They can take cabs back. I’ll call em’ for you.”

He did as he said, hiring multiple cabs to take these drunk women home so he could take you home. 

That night, you graced his sheets with a vigour he knew you had in you. Clawing at his back, gasping his name, you came undone after a few well-timed strokes, embarrassed at your eagerness. But, Kishibe never shamed you. He wanted to see how much he could push you. 

A hand around your neck. A crisp command. Dictating what you would wear on the next few dates. It wasn’t hard to sand you down to your baser self: a woman who had spent her whole life pleasing people and who wanted to do the same in the bedroom.

Tonight, you had followed his instructions well, and he eyed the crumpled plastic bag in your hand. 

“Set that on the table. Get naked.” 

He tossed his duster coat to the side, making himself comfortable on the sofa. Your hands shook as you reached for your zipper, tugging it down in jerky movements. Kishibe had seen your breasts in various positions: bouncing over him, jiggling under him, squished against his bathroom tiles, but he had never seen them emerge this lewdly, already bare and covered with gooseflesh. 

The older man grunted, the corner of his mouth twitching. 

“Did anyone see you like this on the train?” 

You shook your head. “No, Master.” 

Kishibe responded with a low hum. “Take your panties off next. Keep the skirt on.” 

It was impossible to tell what was going on behind his dark eyes. The man who owned your submission was notoriously hard to read. You tried to search his expression, but came back empty, defeated in your journey to unravelling his real thoughts. 

Hooking your thumbs under the waistband of your skirt, you removed your black thong, balling it in a fist and letting it fall to the ground in a scrap of lace.

His eyes travelled past your shoulder to the plastic bag sitting innocuously on his kitchen table. “Show me what you bought.” 

You tried to make your steps as elegant as you could considering every inch of you except for the tiny skirt belting your waist was naked to his scrutiny. Clenching the bag in one hand, you made your way back to him, excitement humming in your veins when you removed the sleek, black collar and its accompanying leash hidden behind the opaque plastic. 

Kishibe exhaled a noiseless chuckle. “To think you rode in the train with a fucking dog collar in your hands and no bra under your jacket. Do you think anyone suspected?” 

You flushed and ducked your head down, conscious of the shame thrumming like a second heartbeat in between your thighs. “N-no, Master. I was careful.” 

“Hmm. Tell me how you felt buying it as you put it on.” 

Unbuckling the collar, you slid it around your throat, tightening the strap around your neck till it was tight enough to choke you slightly. Just the way you loved it. 

“I felt like a degenerate,” you whispered, looping the leather back in place and buckling it. “The cashier asked me w-what breed of dog I had. I lied and said it was a big one—a German Shepherd.” 

Kishibe felt a dirty shiver go down his spine, though his expression remained placid. “Ha. Did he ask you any more questions?” 

You clasped on your leash and shook your head. “H-he didn’t ask me any more questions, Master.” 

In life, there were three things that absolutely thrilled Kishibe to the bone. A successful kill, a good bottle of liquor, and helping a woman uncover her kinks through his precise teachings. 

Kishibe eyed the bead of arousal chasing down your thigh with a greedy sort of satisfaction, his adrenaline spiking.

“Come here.”

You walked over to him like he asked, head bowed and eyes onto the ground. Kishibe touched the rise of your hip, clicking his tongue. “So far, so good. You’re making progress, slut.” 

Your reply was deferential and automatic. “Thank you, Master.”

He stretched his touch from your hip to your sternum, making sure to run his calloused fingertips over your soft skin; marvelling at the smooth expanse in quiet contemplation. 

The women he took to bed were quick flashes of lust in his grainy memory. None of them stood out like a bright paint stain unlike you. Every time he touched you, you opened up beautifully for him; your spine stretched out and neck bared, anticipating more. Your skin, your shining eyes, your trembling breath all spoke of a submission and sensitivity few women could give him like how you did. 

Kishibe felt his breath catch in his throat when he gently pried apart your flushed folds, finding your clit already fat with arousal. He pinched it, earning your quick gasp and low moan.

“Give me your hands.”

In Kishibe’s dark and twisted world, hands were considered weapons of mass destruction and torment, having the ability to rip away lives and families in one breath. But, yours were smooth and unblemished, trembling with the entirety of your trust placed in him. 

He caressed them, tracing the ridges of your palms with his thumbs. “I’m going to tie you up now, okay?” 

Your quick nod could’ve made him laugh if he were a better man, but Kishibe was as wretched as they came. He was the kind of man who saw a flower growing at the side of the street and snapped off its head, pocketing the already dead bloom in the lapels of his suit jacket. The kind of man that mothers would warn their daughters to stay away from. The kind of man that was completely wrong for you. 

Yet, here you were, willing and open, letting him lash your wrists together behind your back with his black tie. He nudged you onto his lap, gathering you into his embrace, taking a moment to inhale the sweet scent of your hair. 

He nuzzled your neck, tugging at your collar with his teeth. You whimpered and undulated your hips, finding his growing bulge and grinding down on it. Kishibe toyed with your leash, wrapping it around his hand and yanking on it till your head was pulled back, baring your neck to his whim. He licked a strip from your jaw to your pulse point, making sure to press a whiskery kiss to your bottom lip. 

Your soft mewl made him throb within the confines of his slacks, and Kishibe grunted, dark eyes glinting as he watched you desperately rut all over his aching bulge. 

Tugging on the leash harder, his expression broke into a sadistic smile when you started to choke, bare chest heaving and nipples circling. 

“Master,” your syrupy moan touched his ears. “Need you.” 

“Hmm,” he murmured, gripping your jaw and forcing you to look him in the eye. “What’s that?” 

The tip of your tongue touched your lower lip, and you pinned your wet eyes onto him. “Been thinking about you for weeks.” 

Kishibe squeezed your hip, moulding your soft skin in his grasp. “Have you touched yourself to me?” 

You were avidly aware of his rules—how your pleasure belonged to him—and shook your head. “No, Master.” 

Your voice wobbled and your hips jerked, desperately trying to find more friction to push yourself over the edge. Kishibe fought back a grin, slamming one heavy palm onto your bare ass. You squeaked and jerked forward, nearly colliding into his solid chest. 

“Careful.” He held you steady, and you rewarded him with a soft mewl of his name. 

He took you in—really drank in your features. Your tousled hair, your wet eyes. The look of pure carnal desire that kept him in your rapture. Kishibe never believed in good things, but he supposes he could make an exception this time. He ran his calloused fingertips down your spine, feeling every ridge and dip. Marking you with his heat and rough touch. You shuddered and dipped your head forward, lining your forehead with his lips. Your scent of pure vanilla and innocence wrapped around him like a cloud, and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward and planting a soft peck to your sweaty skin. 

“Y’close?” he licked his lips, eyeing how your thighs were already trembling. “Y’close from humping an old man’s dick? Rutting on ‘im like a bitch in heat? What would your family say, hmm?” 

His touch on your chin to draw your attention right on him was gentle yet firm. “Look at me.” You did, hiccuping a soft cry of his name. Kishibe’s expression softened a bit more. “Do you think your parents know what you get up to? Leaving you in your little campus room, thinkin’ you’re gonna be a good girl and study hard when you’re here grinding on my dick? Tch, if only they could see what their little girl is doing right now—getting herself off on a man who’s old enough to be her daddy.” 

A sob flew from between your clenched teeth and you turned your face away, running from his touch. The embarrassment churning in your veins was no match for the drop waiting for you once you reached that bliss point. Kishibe sensed it; your desperate rutting was rising to a crescendo, and from how chewable your nipples looked, he understood you were close to erupting in a fiery orgasm. 

“Stop.” 

Slowly, your hips stuttered to a quiet. You chewed on your bottom lip hard enough to make an indent. Kishibe untucked your lower lip from your teeth, and chuckled with more warmth in his voice than he ever had in these past few years. 

“Obedient. I like it.”

You blinked your pretty doe eyes at him, glassy and exhausted. “T-thank you, Master.” 

Kishibe moved you to your knees, and when he tugged the leash, you stumbled closer, nearly falling face first into his crotch. No words were shared when he jerked his hips up to yank off belt, a smirk playing in the corners of his lips when he fingered the silky residue of your juices on the front of his slacks. 

“Look at the mess y’made. Tch.” 

He stuck his fingers in front of your burning face, and you didn’t hesitate to pop your mouth open so he could stick them in. Suckling docilely, you shifted from one knee to another, the shameful warmth in between your thighs stoking up into an inferno. Kishibe yanked his fingers back from your mouth, and as quick as lightning, a sharp slap knocked your head to the side. 

It stung, but you loved the pain. 

“Whore,” he murmured lowly, evenly. “Fuckin’ love it when you get off on humiliation. Makes me throb.” 

Another smack landed on your cheek, and your eyes welled with tears. You started to breathe heavier, and the tears beading your lash line was harder to keep at bay. Kishibe had wormed his way under your skin, digging deeper and deeper till he could touch your sensitive core. Months of fucking you made him an expert at finding your weakest spots. Mortified from his earlier degradation, and now his physical reprimand, your stomach churned, and you wanted to cry. 

Sensing your impending break, Kishibe paused. “Little girl?” 

Something in his tone—how soft and unassuming it was—made the tears flood down your cheeks. 

“Oh… sweetheart,” Kishibe cooed. One second, you were on your knees, and the next, his arms were wrapped around you, bringing you back to his chest. He nuzzled your neck, kissing the sweaty stretch of skin. Your shuddering sobs were buried in his shoulder, and his voice was a soothing hum.

“Do you want to stop?” 

The ache in your core was unresolved, and with your busy schedule ahead, you had no idea when you would see him next. Grappled with these complicated emotions—missing him, needing to feel him deep inside of you—you shook your head.

“Sorry, Master,” you sniffed. “I-I don’t know what happened.” 

“It’s alright,” he mumbled, almost inaudibly. “We can take it slow.” 

You nodded. He eased you back to your knees, swiping at the tear stains left on your cheek, and rubbed them away. He grunted, releasing his hardened length, drooling at the tip from the sight of your tears. 

Shuffling closer, you obediently pushed your head forward, unafraid to take him halfway down your throat. Kishibe felt you gagging a little around his length, but he didn’t chastise you again. He let you figure out your limits this time, watching you ease down his cock with the impatience of a corrupted saint. 

His dark eyes were half-hooded, the tip of his tongue flitting out to wet his lower lip. A dark shiver ran up his spine, his balls tightening when you started to gag on his cock. Dribbles of saliva coated your chin, trickling down to your heaving, spit-slicked tits. Out of all the things he’s seen in his life, Kishibe would always be a fan of a woman bound and on her knees. There was something so seductive—so vulgar and vulnerable—about the graceful, submissive arch of a woman’s spine as she’s on her knees; her immobilised wrists resting on the small of her back and throat bulging with the thick of him. 

Your lashes fluttered close, shadows drawing over your cheeks. Red, raw and shiny lips dragged up and down his length, stopping to smear clumsy kisses on his heavy balls. He had taught you how to suck him off well; the first time you did it, you couldn’t even look him in the eye. Now, you were a seductive vixen wearing a look of heavy-hooded lust, licking from base to tip and back to base again while rubbing her cheek all over his weeping tip; the perfect cockslut.

“Fuck,” Kishibe rasped. “So fucking good for me. So good…” he trailed off, unable to keep his focus when you licked and sucked his thick balls into your mouth. 

The warmth of your breath, the rough strip of your tongue, had him seeing stars. Kishibe swore he had a lifetime full of control, but you managed to tip him off his own scales in a matter of minutes.

“Stop.” 

This time, his voice was laced with something different—something desperate.

You lifted your head up, breathing heavier, licking your lips that were shiny with spit and his precum. 

“Master?” 

One second you were on your knees, and the next, his large palm was curling around the sweaty hair at the nape of your neck. Kishibe tugged you to your feet using his grip on your hair, and you cried out, the pain shooting daggers of pleasure right to your aching and swollen cunt. 

He half-dragged, half-coaxed you out towards the open balcony by your hair, expression stoic as you stumbled to keep up with him. Kishibe was less than gentle when he pushed you against the railing, hiking up your skirt and tucking it into the crumpled band. Everything moved too fast for you to comprehend; the wind pricked your skin, your nipples hardened and suddenly, every fibre in your body came alive. 

You heard the quick rustling of clothes hitting the ground. A warm palm on your belly, pushing you back slightly. Arranging you into his favourite position.

From his balcony, Sumida river unfurled like a lost scroll, dots of lights in the distance hallmarking a view which many would kill for during the day. At night, it felt like an endless abyss of eyes were watching your every move, your every expression that contorted and melted from both the pleasure and humiliation. 

“Master… right here?” 

You shifted from one foot to another, overwhelmingly aware of the situation you were in. Surrounded by apartment complexes and windows filled with lights. Exposed to the open world for everyone’s scrutiny. You hated to admit how it made a flood of slick dribble down your thighs. 

“Yes.” He cocked a brow. “Is there a problem, slut?” 

You lowered your eyes and shook your head, the collar and leash tinkling together. “N-no, Master.” 

“Good.” 

Kishibe ran the length of your leash through his hand, scrutinising you with those beautiful, depthless dark eyes. “Because I’m going to push you to your limits today.” He looped the leash around the railing, tightening it like you were an errant dog about to sprint off. Humiliation blazed through every pore of your body, and you dropped your eyes to the ground. 

The urge to break free and cover yourself warred with the need for him to claim you fully. His footsteps echoed back into the apartment, and you couldn’t crane your neck around to catch what he was doing. In the tense silence, the world narrowed down to your heavy breathing and scattered thoughts. Your eyes raked across the scenery, scanning the windows and balconies to your right, wondering just who was outside tonight, minding their own business. 

Maybe they were smoking to relieve the stress of the day. Maybe they were looking out into the river to clear their heads. Whatever they were doing, they would never expect to find a bound, half-naked, collared and leashed woman shifting from one foot to another. You backed up, wanting to hide yourself from the mortification, and to your dismay, found that Kishibe had tied the leash to the balcony railing tight enough so that you were only allowed a range of two steps max. 

His footsteps pricked your senses, and you felt him come up behind you. 

He snaked an arm around your waist, rubbing your hip in a reassuring way. “Frightened?” 

You couldn’t lie to him; Kishibe always had an extra sense for your fear. 

“Yes.” 

He hummed. You felt him kiss your hair. “Good. Means I’m doing something right.” 

His palm slid from your hip to your jaw, and grabbing it, he pried your lips apart. A scratchy, thin material slid in between your mouth, and you clamped down on it on instinct. 

Kishibe’s throaty chuckle reverberated across the expanse of your back. “Good girl. Hold it there for me.” 

You couldn’t stare down the length of your nose far enough to see what he had stuffed in your mouth, the material completely wadded between your teeth. Not until you heard the sticky peeling ‘shick’ of what sounded like duct tape being ripped up. A thick strip was tacked onto your mouth, and you realised what he had gagged you with at the same time he decided to reveal the truth. 

“Pretty smart of you to wear a thong today, little girl. It’s thin enough for me to gag those sweet moans from reaching my neighbours.”

Your breath hitched, going dizzy when he started to rub circles on your clit. 

He rubbed his scratchy cheek into your neck, mouthing at your earlobe, his hot, heavy breathing loud in the silence of your muffled whines. 

“Fuck. You’re really a fucking freak y’know.” 

The circles on your clit started going faster. Your knees buckled, about to fall onto the ground when he caught you, holding you firm while he continued to wreck your composure. 

“Letting me do what I want t’you—fuck.” He spat out a curse, growling under his breath when your eyes rolled back into your skull and your back arched like a cat in heat. “Shameless—how you let a man whore you out like this. Tch. Straight-A student, my ass. You’re nothing but a brainless little fucktoy who can’t even think straight when she’s being slutted out, ha?” His other palm collided with your ass cheek, sending you jolting forward with a sharp cry absorbed by your makeshift gag. 

“Stupid little girl.” Smack. “Brain dead little slut.” Smack. “Whore.” Smack. “I’m gonna fuckin’ eat you up till you beg me to stop.” Smack. “Till you—” Smack, smack. “—Cry out f’mercy.” Smack! 

Your ass was on fire, and the heat between your thighs was swallowing you whole. 

Tears ricocheted down your face, some absorbed by your gag, the rest trickling onto your heaving tits. Kishibe growled into your ear, using his free hand that wasn’t frigging you gently to pinch, pluck and squeeze your nipples till they stood out from the half-darkness in an erotic outline of desperate need. 

You tasted nothing but lace and shame, biting down on your gag to muffle your loud moans. A window in front of you flickered to life, and you thrashed in his hold, your baser instinct to run and hide taking over. But, Kishibe held you firmly, a grin growing across his rugged face. 

“Don’t pretend like this scares you,” he crooned, pinching your nipple sharply to punish you for trying to turn away. “You like this. Like being a little public play slut. Your pussy is leaking onto my entire wrist—look.” 

He pulled his hand away from between your thighs, holding it in front of your face. The dim glow of the city beyond highlighted the trickle of juices glistening languidly down his wrist, stringy trails of your body’s betrayal. 

You cried out and turned your face away, hiding it in the crook of his neck. Kishibe chuckled at your innocence, slotting his hand back to concentrate on your tiny clit begging for a release. You pushed back with your hips, hazy mind registering the feeling of something hard poking your lower back. 

The gag he placed across your mouth could barely hold back your cries. Despite their muffled quality, there would be no doubt of its true nature to someone who could overhear it. The idea both enthralled and mortified you. 

“Y’close,” he murmured, and despite himself—despite his twisted nature to bring out your submission—Kishibe still had a shred of softness left to him. He kissed your wet cheek, pressing more kisses into your hair. “I can hear y’breathing. S’getting louder. Hmm, sweetheart?”

Tears clouded your eyes, your lower body moving on its accord to grind your hips against his fingers. It took you a few moments to realise that he had stopped rubbing your clit, his fingers still and curling over the sensitive bud. But, the thought didn’t deter you, your orgasm so close you could taste it in the back of your throat. 

Kishibe glanced down, lips parted in amusement when you humped his fingers, lost in your cresting release and breaking defences. 

“Mhmm,” you peeled your teary eyes up towards him, like a crying sinner looking into the face of a destructive god. The sight alone made up his mind to fuck you against the railing, his baser instinct to breed you taking over.

“I’m going to remove your gag to fuck you good, little girl,” he whispered. “And if you make a sound, I will stop. Entirely. Got it?” 

Your frantic nod put a smile back on his face.

Gently, he peeled off your tape gag, fishing for your lace thong and pulling it out, tossing the spit-sodden scrap to the ground. 

You flexed your jaw, moving your tongue around your mouth to get some feeling back into your face. 

Kishibe’s large palms steadied around your hips, and without warning, the tip of him breached through your tight hole. A sharp gasp wrangled its way past your sore throat, and you immediately clamped your teeth over your lower lip, hoping he hadn’t heard you. 

If he did, Kishibe pretended that he didn’t, stilling his twitching tip right inside. Gathering your copious natural lube, he pried himself from your walls to rub your slick all over his length, getting himself drenched and prepped to take you. 

Licking his teeth, Kishibe felt the tightest knot form in the base of his belly when he took in the waiting arch of your back. You truly were a miracle gifted to him when he had lost every last shred of faith in this cruel world. 

Breaching your weeping hole again, he took his time to ease inch by inch, letting you get used to his thick girth and throbbing veins. The shape of him was familiar as it was foreign, your body both remembering and memorising how he felt like again. 

“God,” he gritted. “S’fucking tight.” 

Your answer was a toss of your head, mouth falling wide open to emit silent pants. 

Kishibe moved deeper and deeper till he felt your channel narrowing, resistance meeting his cock. Swallowed into your depths, he used this simple moment to brush his lips over your ear. 

“Not. A. Sound.” 

Then, he started to move. 

It felt like a rush of flames and chilling ice over your skin, your entire body breaking out in gooseflesh when he started to fuck you. Your nipples hardened, circling, your back bowed like a tight string. 

Kishibe planted one hand around your neck, thumb and forefinger digging into your pulse point. 

He fucked you quickly and dirtily, like you were a sleeve made for him to get off. Using the leash, he tugged your head back, throwing your body into a deeper arch. Brutal strength mixed with a masculine, predatory glow to get you unravelling. Kishibe fucked like he doesn’t know what love is—has never felt her tender caress against his skin. He used you like how an animal uses his mate, like how male cats would bite down on a female’s neck to keep her in place so she could take his rut; solely with the intent of claiming her.

The rough slap of his hips on yours echoed throughout the air, and through the throes of hazy pleasure, you forgot his words. Dulcet moans laced through your rough fucking, breathing fire into this frenzied moment. 

Kishibe grunted a quick “shut up” and you felt his fingers digging harder into your throat. 

“Master,” you sobbed, the sound coming out strangled. 

He graduated from choking you to stuffing his thickset fingers down your windpipe, triggering your gag reflex. Kishibe hooked his fingers into your mouth, stretching the corners apart like how a bit would yank a horse’s mouth.  Like you were a wild mare in need of taming. 

His hips stuttered, lust wrapping around his addled mind, the alcohol searing his stomach and humming in his veins. 

It was hard enough to keep your whimpers quiet, but it was damn near impossible to muffle them anymore when you felt him spanking your ass cheeks again.

“Master!” you cried out, a mess of drool, tears and sweat. “P-please be gentle—a-ah! Mhmph!” 

He stuffed you full of his fingers again, your sweet whines lost in between a mouthful of him. 

“Take it,” he growled. 

It was hard to stop you from writhing away, your body caught between taking him in and expelling him out. He removed his fingers and slapped your own spit onto your cheek, smearing it around. He gave you a few quick smacks onto your tender clit for good measure.

“I can’t!” you sobbed, shaking your head from side to side. “M-Master—!”

Something broke in him. Fuelled by your whines and the glint of fear in your eyes. He ached to cradle you in his arms just to snap you in half with his jaw. A predator enraptured by his prey. It was a weakness, a disease that seared through his limbs. 

Kishibe needed to break you or else he would break first.

Grabbing your chin, he forced you to crane your neck back at him. The sight of his messy hair and bared teeth should’ve scared you, but all you felt was a sharp thrill shooting up your spine, enamoured by a beast who wouldn’t hesitate to shred you with his talons. There comes a point when a frightened mouse would run towards a feral cat just to end its life—to spare itself from the cruel game of back and forth. 

Your body folded forward, head hung low, giving it all up for Kishibe.

And he took. Took and took until you were hoarse and weeping, body a limp rag for him to do as he pleased. 

He slapped your ass cheeks until they glowed from his handprints. Mauled your breasts and tugged on your swollen nipples till you swore they were permanently distended. Heavy spanks fell in between your legs, your clit unable to avoid his harsh fucking. Like a beast of the night, he left bites and bruises on your collar bones, on your neck, and in between your shoulders. His heavy cock didn’t cease its brutal ramming, determined to bury itself to the hilt till you were moulded by the shape of him. 

Through the haze, your lower body tightened and your legs went taut. Kishibe felt you clamping down on him and with a grunt, he whispered, “Cum for me, my whore.” 

A perfect, dulcet moan ripped past your swollen lips, and your eyes rippled close. The city lights buried itself behind your eyelids, and a large palm slapped onto your mouth, muffling your obscene cry of release from the world. Kishibe let you sob into his skin, your hips stuttering pitifully, fucking back on his thick cock still wrecking your insides.

He wasn’t gentle in the least when he tugged your head into the crook of his neck with the leash, his lips on the soft shell of your ear as he breathed heavy, dirty words that trickled into the mess of your thoughts. 

So sweet… good girl… such a fuckin’ whore… so good for me… is this all for me? All this slick and cum f’me? 

You bleated out his name, lost in the whirlpools of your mind. Kishibe’s grip on your throat tightened, and with one, final thrust, he stilled.

Warmth filled you up, unexpectedly tender as his cockhead brushed your most sensitive spots. Its throbbing felt like fleeting little kisses on your walls, every brush drawing you both closer and closer till you felt like you could fall into his lungs. 

Kishibe caught you in time, his face buried in your hair as he tiredly nuzzled your sweaty temple. 

The tie was removed from your wrists, the collar and leash unsnapped from your neck. He lifted you into his arms when your legs wouldn’t cooperate.

A new man inhabited him, soft and regretful as he touched his gaze to the bruises he left on your ass, the marks on your neck. 

Kishibe carried you to the couch, sitting you onto his lap. He hugged you tighter to his defined chest, letting you melt into the crook of his arm. Soft sobs reached his ears and he closed his eyes, guilt unexpectedly eating into him with the slow, corrosive nature of acid burning through steel.

He cradled you, rubbing your back, kissing your neck. Anything to calm you down. 

Once you stopped crying and a little warmth returned into your cheeks, he lifted your face to his. Your eyes shone with devotion, a knife that carved deeper into him than any blade could. It serrated him apart, leaving him unable to stop himself from lifting your hips and sinking you down onto his cock. 

He needed to see your eyes cloud over with something else other than love. Such was the sin you carried against him that he needed to absolve himself over your misfortune of falling in love with a man like him.

But, you were as perforating as a hot knife through butter. You leaned up, lining your forehead with his and sighing a sickly sweet, syrupy, “Master” against his lips. Despite his every destable fibre of being, Kishibe allowed himself to give into your kisses. Let you shower him with your love while he took, took and took till you were gasping and bleeding out his name. You kissed his scar, his pockmarks and the broken cartilage of his nose that healed over wonkily from a mishap mission years ago. 

Those strong hands that only ever knew murder and violence were guiding the soft flesh of your hips up and down his slick cock. He saw your toes curling in his periphery, your head tossing back. Kishibe had just made you cum, but he wanted to do it again and again and again until all you could taste in your every waking moment was him.

As selfish as he was, he wanted to be your first thought and your last dream. He wanted a bed moulded with the shape of you, eyes that would sparkle whenever they caught his gaze.

He eyed your jiggling tits and plush belly, wondering how they would look swollen and brimming with his life. He picked up your left hand, kissed your ring finger.

You were too fucked out to notice his lingering gaze, his retreat into silence. 

“Kishibe.” 

His heart jumped into his throat. This was the first time you had ever called him by his name. Your pretty eyes widened at the mutual realisation, and you started to babble.

I’m sorry, I overstepped, Master. I’m so sorry—

He kissed you halfway through a senseless apology, his lips tasting strongly of musk. Kishibe couldn’t find it in his heart to punish you for an honest mistake, so he gave you his acceptance over his forgiveness. 

His thumb on your clit made you lose track of time, and when your toes clenched and your head was lolling backwards, you cried out his name into the midnight darkness of his dim apartment. The candle was almost burnt through, and his cock was coated with your rings of cream. The smell of sex clung to his pores, burning his retinas.

You slumped against his chest, and with a few more strokes, he came undone into you again. 

His thoughts were splattered with white, limbs heavy with satisfaction. Kishibe sensed he had to let you go to catch the train, but his mind refused to play catch up to his brooding sense of duty. 

When you fluttered back into the realm of wakefulness, Kishibe belted his arms around you, holding you deeper into his warmth. 

“Stay the night,” he whispered, and refused to look at you when you lifted your head up. You didn’t have to voice your surprise; Kisibe could taste the uncertainty lingering in the air. “It’s too late to take the train back. I’ll send you to the station first thing tomorrow.”

You don’t ask if you could sleep in his bed, and he doesn’t offer you to. 

The late hour and a creeping exhaustion did not permit the both of you to look beyond this moment. 

But somehow, you nodded your agreement and he couldn’t fight back a smile. 

── rb and feedbacks are sincerely appreciated <33

Last time, Denji fell in love (again) and got his heart broken when the girl turned out to be a Russian agent sent to assassinate him. He seemed to think it could still work out somehow, but he hasn't seen her since their fight, and I'm pretty sure he never will, since Makima had her killed in Chapter 52. Not sure if Denji knows that part, but there you have it.

So he's pretty depressed about the whole thing, and he's been having dreams where Pochita calls out to him from behind a locked door "Don't open it." Don't open the door? I guess. Also, Denji's a kid in this dream, so I don't know if that means anything.

He quickly bounces back from his funk when Makima invites him, Power, and Aki to join her on a vacation in Enoshima.

Buuuuuut the trip is postponed when Makima learns that the news media is covering the Chainsaw Man, who was seen fighting Reze and Typhoon Devil in the previous arc. This is a problem, because Makima considers Chainsaw Man a very valuable asset in the hunt for Gun Devil, but now the whole world knows she has Chainsaw Man, and she expects other nations to send agents like Reze to capture him.

Makima reasons that this was Reze's goal all along. The Russians sent her after Denji, and maybe their plan was to start a big enough ruckus that Public Safety couldn't keep Chainsaw Man a secret any longer. So even if the Russians couldn't get Denji for themselves, they could at least make it harder for Makima to keep him.

That makes sense up to a point, except it doesn't quite line up with Reze's actions. She took a very subtle approach with Denji, and seemed very intent on killing him as quietly as possible. The big battle in the city might have been Plan B, but at the end of the arc, she admitted that she had failed by taking too long to fight Denji. So if her true mission was simply to expose him to the world, she sure didn't act like it.

So why the hell is Chainsaw so damn important anyway? Denji's pretty formidable now that he's merged with Pochita, but Pochita didn't seem all that special by himself, and all these players seem to be fixated on the Chainsaw Devil, not Denji. Gun Devil's gone after him, the Russians have gone after him, and now Makima is expecting other countries to send their own agents. But why?

The answer seems to have something to do with the fact that other devils are terrified of Chainsaw Man's power. Aki discussed this with Angel Devil recently, and Angel explained to him that when you kill a devil, they don't actually die. They turn to ash and simply reincarnate in hell. Then they live as devils in hell, basically doing the same thing there, until they're killed in hell, which causes them to reincarnate on Earth.

This has to do with the devils being manifestations of fears. People are afraid of guns, so there's a Gun Devil. People are afraid of bats, so there's a Bat Devil. Apparently enough people are afraid of tomatoes to get a Tomato Devil started. So it kind of makes sense that you can never permanently kill these things. Those fears don't just go away, so it follows that they can resurface after a time. I'm not sure how this cycle works, but Angel Devil doesn't even understand it himself. He doesn't remember his time in hell, and he compares it to a human having no memory of the womb.

Angel's point in all of this is that he's spoken to other devils who work in Public Safety, and while they don't remember hell very well either, they do recall a very specific sound they heard when they were killed in hell. And that sound was the revving of a chainsaw.

So that suggests that the Chainsaw Devil, Pochita, is the manifestation of the devils' collective fear. He's the boogeyman of all boogeymen. Then again, if Pochita was killing them all down in hell, how did he end up on Earth when he met Denji? Someone must have killed Pochita in hell, right?

At this point, it seems likely that everyone wants to control Denji so they can use Chainsaw as a weapon. Devils were eating Gun Devil flesh to get stronger, so it's likely that eating Chainsaw flesh would give them an even bigger buff. As for the humans, apparently they just really don't want Makima to control Chainsaw, even though she plans to use him against Gun Devil, which seems like it'd be in everyone's best interest.

All right, let's talk about the characters who go to Japan to hunt down Denji. First, we have these three guys from America. I call them "The Immortals" because I don't think we ever learn their full names. They have a contract with the Skin Devil that allows them to impersonate other people, and they've survived a lot of hardships in their lives, including the Gun Devil attacks, so they consider themselves indestructible.

Next we have Tolka and his master. I guess they're Russians, but I don't think this is spelled out. Tolka's master has him kill, skin, and cook a fox, just to prepare him for their mission of hunting and killing a 16-year-old boy. She wants to know if he can go through with such a thing, and he seems to believe he's up for the job.

Next we have Quanxi, a Chinese assassin. She has a squad of four fiends who help her on missions and such. Also, they fuck constantly. This army guy just walks in on them while they're in bed together and tells her about the mission to kill Denji, and they're both pretty casual about the whole thing. It's like they both understand that there's no point waiting for her to get done fucking, so he can just walk right in and state his business.

Beijing apparently is willing to grant her just about anything for her to take this job, and she thinks about it and requests human rights and a basic education for her harem of demon skanks. I just want to point out that one of them keeps saying the word "Halloween!" over and over again, so that's probably some sort of learning disorder. Also, I like how the CCP will do anything within their power to pay Quanxi for this, and she asks for human rights and they're like "Ouch, gee, that's a tall order, but we'll see what we can do." Like they were hoping she'd just ask for a solid gold house or a new eyeball.

Somehow, Makima already knows Quanxi is coming... Uh... sorry. Bad choice of words. But as dangerous as Quanxi is, the real threat is.... Germany's Santa Claus. What the fuck? Do I even want to know?

No. No, I do not. Germany's Santa Claus is an old man who takes the job and asks for four "good looking" children as payment. He plans to sacrifice three of them to make contracts with devils for more power, and the fourth one is "for pleasure", and that just might be the most spine-chilling pair of words in this entire series. Fuck you, Germany's Santa Claus. Just... no. Fuck.

Hey, here's these guys. I don't know who the hell they are, and it doesn't matter because the Immortal Bros. run their car off the road and gun them down in order to assume one of their identities and infiltrate Public Safety.

The problem with this whole part of the story is that there are a lot of new characters being tossed around here, and a lot of them are just young men in suits with fairly normal features. Chainsaw Man has demonstrated to me just why so many other manga characters have outrageous hairdos and wardrobes. All six of these characters look pretty similar, and one of them is a woman, for crying out loud. Fortunately, only two of them matter much here. The Elder Immortal, the one with the soulpatch, plans to impersonate Kurose, the Public Safety guy with the scar across his nose.

As he prepares to do this, he asks his brothers, Joey and Aldo, how they feel about the murder they just did. Joey's cool with it, but Aldo throws up, because it's his first killing.

So just keep Kurose's face in mind, even though the real Kurose is dead, and Elder Immortal is imitating him. He's got a scar running horizontally across his face. The other one who matters is Aldo, who has two scars over his right eye.

See, the logistical problem Public Safety has is that they're devoting all their resources to defending Denji, but they can't just hide him out in the mountains somewhere, because even though the agents pursuing him might not know his human appearance, they have contracts with devils who can sniff him out. Hiding Denji is all but impossible, so Makima just has him and Power go about their day-to-day business, but with a bunch of Public Safety guys standing guard over them all the time. Denji hates this because they boss him around constantly, and he soon realizes that this arrangement isn't to protect him at all. He's bait. They're hoping to draw out his pursuers, and maybe defeat some of them and convince the rest that it's not worth the trouble.

Meanwhile, Tolka and his master are eating in the same McDonalds as Denji and Power. Tolka's master has a contract with the Curse Devil, the same one Aki used a while back. The difference is that Tolka's master actually knows how to use the ability. She uses a nail instead of a sword, which allows her to poke Denji three times without him even noticing. Once she gets him a fourth time with the nail the curse will activate and insta-kill him. She leaves this task to Tolka. I guess this is like a final exam for his apprenticeship under her.

Fake Kurose shows up and tells the others that his two comrades were killed in an ambush, but he insists on continuing to help on the mission. He starts being all friendly to get good and infiltrated when...

Power hits him with her car. No, wait, it's Kobeni's car. Power saw it and wanted to drive it, because it reminded Power of her car, which looks exactly like Kobeni's car... Wait, did Kobeni steal Power's car? How could you, Kobeni? We all trusted you!

No, wait, Kobeni was the one driving and it's definitely her car because it was used to commit manslaughter. But wait, Kurose's face changes and he's one of those American hitmen! Power immediately takes credit for exposing his ruse.

So what about the other Immortal Bros.? Well, they were also nearby, but disguised as bystanders. They're horrified to see their big brother die so randomly, and Aldo pukes in an alley while Joey swears revenge. But he immediately gets spotted by a Public Safety guy and killed on the spot.

That just leaves Aldo, who only survives because he puts his disguise back on, and the Public Safety guy decides he can't be a hitman because he's throwing up. So now Aldo's on his own.

I'm kind of focusing on the Immortals' part of the story because frankly German Santa Claus and Tolka's Master haven't make their moves yet, and Quanxi just fucks her henchwomen instead of pursuing her target. Also this was the part of the arc I had trouble following, because of shapeshifters disguising themselves as the same background character.

Okay, so now Aldo's fucked, and the cops go to his hotel, so he can't stay there, so he uses what little information he had on Kurose to go visit Kurose's brother. This isn't a bad idea, except it really strains Aldo's already precarious mental state. He just watched his brothers die, and now he has to pretend to be this guy's brother and try to keep up appearances. I really enjoy this page where you see them from outside the apartment window, and all the word balloons are inside the window with them. Aldo's just completely trapped in this nightmare and he doesn't know what to do.

Kurose's brother thinks that he must be stressed out from work, and tries to talk him into quitting the Devil Hunter business. He asks what their big brother would say, and Aldo recalls what his actual older brother used to say, which gives him the resolve to see this job through. He spends the next few chapters trying to work up the courage to find Denji and kill him.

But we're not going to see that play out just yet. No, first it's Germany's Santa Claus' turn. His power comes from the Doll Devil, and anyone her touches is turned into a zombie-like doll who must do his bidding. Anyone the dolls touch is also turned, and the conversion is irreversible. This one guy guarding Denji has a contract that lets him turn people to stone, so that helps, but there's too many dolls coming after them, so they have to withdraw.

The stuff with the dolls is kind of fun, but it's not too different from other zombie battles we've already seen in this series. Then Quanxi and her minions enter the fray, and Quanxi does this big leap with swords, and everyone along her path gets cut in two. I'm not sure if Quanxi's fiend-skanks are assisting with this or what. This is like one of those JoJo arcs where there's two Enemy Stand Users at the same time, and it's impossible to figure out which one is doing what. Only multiply that by a hundred because Tatsuki Fujimoto can't stop adding characters to this story.

I don't understand her power, but the artwork for it is phenomenal. Dolls and civilians alike are massacred in a single stroke. I guess Quanxi does something similar to Janemba's sword slashes in Fusion Reborn, maybe?

Aki manages to block the effect before it kills Angel Devil, or I think that's what he's doing. They survive, but it knocks the wind out of them.

I'm kind of skipping around here, but Master Kishibe-- not Tolka's master, but the guy who trained Power and Denji-- subdues Quanxi's minions, then confronts her in the mall they're fighting in. They sit down at a table and talk while Denji and Power hold the girls hostage. This is one of those deals where the two grisled veterans talk it out for old time's sake. He seems to be trying to convince Quanxi to give up peacefully, but it's not that simple.

While they speak, he holds up a notepad that reads "Makima is listening", then reveals that he's planning to kill Makima, and he's willing to let her go, and even tell her his plan if she agrees to help him.

The thing is, she starts fighting again shortly after this, so I can't tell if she's doing that to keep up appearance, since Makima would be expecting a battle, or if she rejected Master Kishibe's offer. We'll probably find out later, but there's a lot of other stuff going on, so it'll probably be a while. The important thing for now is that Kishibe has gone from being suspicious of Makima to outright plotting against her, and he seems to trust a Chinese assassin more than his own boss.

Oh, here's a gag at the end of Volume 7 where Power demands Kobeni thank her for killing that bad guy. Aki explains to Kobeni that not only is Power a pathological liar, but she used her blood powers to alter her own memories to believe her bullshit. So the way Power remembers it, she heroically rode into the scene with her own car and ran over a bad guy who was threatening Kobeni and Denji. I'm not saying I like Power's version of the story better, but it's definitely got its advantages.

For example, a lot of Chapter 62 is spent on Quanxi fighting.... some guy. This is the same Public Safety guy who killed Joey after Power heroically killed Joey's brother with Kobeni's Power's car. Notice how I had to mention four other characters just to put this guy in context. I think he has a name, I just didn't think I needed to bother remembering it, since 60% of Denji's bodyguards have been killed off already. This guy has multiple earrings, and apparently that made him cool enough that Fujimoto thought he deserved this big action sequence with Quanxi, who... we really don't know all that well either.

So what the hell is Denji doing during all of this? Well, he considers turning into Chainsaw Man to join the fight, but Beam warns him against it, since he might need that later on, and it would be risky to wear himself out. Then Denji steps on a nail, which was carefully placed on the floor by Tolka.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you replied trying your best to not show your fear for the older man.

“I never pegged you for the dumb type (Y/N), so don’t play dumb now. You know who” Kishibe said with a neutral face, and that ominous monotone.

“It’s Aki I’m talking about. We’re standing in his kitchen”. Kishibe said as he slowly started to approach. With every step he took towards you, you took one back praying that you would feel the hard wood of the kitchen door behind you.

“Why are you trying to run away. I’ve missed you so much (Y/N)”

“Why did you have to end things, I thought we were doing so well”

“Was it Aki that took you away from me. I think it was him, you know his busy with some demon rather than being here with you”

“What type of man does that, I never did when we were together”

You face was etched with fear, as you heard Kishibe speak. His voice remaining in that same monotone, no inflection, no break in his character as he spoke about your past relationship with him.

Your relationship with Kishibe was like one of those dark fairy tales, where in the beginning everything felt perfect only for time to reveal the true dark nature of it. The slow creep of his possessiveness over you, how he would forbid you from doing simple tasks all in the name of love, how every night he’d spread your legs as he’d rut into you over rand over making you proclaim who you belonged to.

And in the beginning all those cations seemed like an over protective boyfriend but soon your young naivety was gone and you were able to see the truth of your relationship with Kishibe.

“Aki is a busy man, I understand that” you said as you moved your hand about behind you praying to feel the knob of your kitchen door.

“You making excuses for him now” Kishibe said as he was only a few feet away from you now.

“You don’t understand (Y/N), the amount of pain I was in when you left me for him”

You eyes grew big as you watched as he now stood right infront of you, so close that you were able to smell the cigarettes on his clothes, and that malt liquor stench that was always on his coat.

But just as you were about to give up all hope on getting out of this situation you felt the cool metal knob behind you, quietly grasping it so that Kishibe didn’t become suspicious.

“I never left you for Aki, Kishibe” you said with more confidence now, as the feeling of the doorknob between your fingers brought more clarity to your mind that you would make it out of the kitchen in one piece.

“Yes, you did” Kishibe said as he brought his face closer to yours, so close that you could smell the mint on his breath.

‘Mint!’ your mind screamed, not alcohol. Your mind let of loud sirens, as your ex-lover was not intoxicated but of sound mind and yet he still acted so erratically.

“Kishibe, you need to leave” you said tightening your grasp on the knob, as you twisted it slightly preparing for your escape.

“Youre not going to push me away again (Y/N)”

“Kishibe leave mow” you said giving the knob a firm twist, but just as you felt the door slightly open, you felt it slam closed again. Looking behind you to reveal that Kishibe hand was now atop of yours as he had closed the door, preventing you from leaving.

“You think you can leave me again. Not this time. Not again” he said as your felt his lips hover over yours.

“You know (Y/N). it’s not I like I didn’t try” Kishibe explained as his eyes lingered on your lips before looking into your eyes.

“I really did try. I brought home woman after woman every night”.

“I’d take them home and put them into those positions that always had you screaming out my name” Kishibe said as you felt his free hand trail up your bare thigh. His fingertips ghosting along your skin, causing tingles of pleasure that you tried your best to not acknowledge but as much as you tried your body was still weak for him as a soft moan escaped your lips.

“But no matter how I fucked them, or how many times I fucked them all I could imagine was you. I used to close my eyes and imagine it was you I was fucking. That it was your pussy clamping down on me”

As much as you tried not to imagine what Kishibe was saying you couldn’t help it when your mind lingered there. Thinking about his thick hard cock, that would ravage you making your head spin with pleasure, you could feel your core heat up at the image of him fucking you, but still you tried your best to resist.

“I know your body better than you do” Kishibe said as his hand now shifted over your cunt, gently massaging it, his fingers massaging your slit through the flimsy material.

“Kishibe please” you begged out as you brought you hand down, wrapping it against his wrist to stop his actions.

“Please stop, I’m with Aki now you can’t do this”.

“If you loved Aki as much as you claim you wouldn’t be getting wet from my hands” Kishibe said as his head came down against your neck, placing soft kisses against it.

Before you could let another word out, you felt him move your panties to the side slightly. The cool evening air against your dripping arousal made your head feel faint with pleasure.

“Kishibe pleas-“ your words were cut off as you felt him slip his fingers into your cunt, his warm fingers, toughened from hard labour, prodding inside you against that spot that made your knees buckle.

As much as you didn’t agree with Kishibe, but you couldn’t deny that Aki didn’t have this affect on your body, he didn’t know your body as well as Kishibe did. He didn’t fuck you with the same passion and hunger that Kishibe did, and you’d be a fool to deny that you didn’t miss that.

“Your pussy remembers my fingers. I can tell my how tight you’re getting from having only two inside you” Kishibe said as his lips grazed your ear, feeling his hot breath against your ear as you shuddered underneath him.

“Please” you begged out, unsure if it was for him to stop or for him to finger fuck you more.

Kishibe fingers sped up, feeling as his fingers knocked against that deep spot inside you that hard you gasping for air. The ground beneath you feeling non-existent as all your mind focused on was Kishibe, his fingers inside you, his tongue against your neck and that cigarette scent that filled your nostrils full of him making you feel even more feral.

You felt you pussy spasm with pleasure, feeling your orgasm approach.

“Kishibe” you moaned out as you pushed yourself against him.

“You wanna cum for me” Kishibe teased, as he felt your walls begin to spasm.

“Yes” you begged out breathily.

“Yes Kishibe” you said feeling as the orgasmic feeling begin to wash over you, but just as the high was about to hit you felt him pull his fingers out of you. Leaving you the feeling of need and emptiness.

“Say you’re mine and I’ll fuck your brains out” Kishibe said playing with your puffy wet folds that made your mind go to mush.

“I’m yours Kishibe. Please” you begged out for me, to feel that euphoric feeling of cumming on his hard cock as it filled you with his semen. His hot semen that would gush out of your used whole.

“Good” Kishibe said letting go of his hand atop of yours on the doorknob, he had no fear that you’d run, you were drunk on him now to filled up with need to go anywhere but where he was.

Kishibe undid his pants, slightly pulling them down to reveal his massive cock that was leaking pre-cum. You watched as he aligned his cock with your pussy, feeling as his tip teased your entrance. Feeling the slick tip play with the entrance of your pussy as it clenched in anticipation.

You grabbed at Kishibe urging him to sink inside you, feeling his tip dip slightly inside you but just as he was about to slip in all the way you heard the front door open.

“(Y/N)-chan, I’m home” you heard Aki yell.

You felt Kishibe breathe against your ear, feeling the loss sensation of his cock prodding against you. You kept your eyes shut, waiting for what would happen next.

“(Y/N)-chan what are you doing?” You heard Aki as you opened your eyes to reveal that you stood all alone against the door.

Your head spinning with doubt if you had imagined al that had occurred, while Aki starred at you with a look of worry.

“I-“ you stuttered out, but before you could come up with an excuse Aki began to talk.

“Its okay, I brought dinner” Aki said as he placed a bag on the table.

Quietly you sat in you shared bed, looking over at Aki’s sleeping figure. As you mind went over what occurred early that evening. The doubt washing over your mind making you feel like a mad man, just as you were about to come to the conclusion that you had imagined it you saw your phone light up with a message.

‘You’re mine’ -K

,

.

.