𝟏𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒 .

(twelve)ᵏⁱˢʰⁱᵇᵉ

story by daisynik7 on tumblr

-

Cure for a Hangover

Pairing: Kishibe x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.9k

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

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

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

Taglist: (bc Kishibe using kiddo as a pet name is living in my head rent free thanks to you)

part 3 of anthology series

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

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

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

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

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

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