#I sound like a used car salesman | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

celestie0 · 10 months ago

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gojo satoru x reader | oneshot smut [18+]

luxury & lingerie. a retail au

“𝐀𝐥𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲’𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞. 𝐋𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐭. 𝐈’𝐦 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤.”

ᰔ pairing. retail au - rolex salesman gojo x victoria's secret associate reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo is the rolex watch shop's pretty boy & you're the victoria's secret lingerie store's new hire that works across from him. let's just say he's determined to get inside your pants.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, porn with plot (seriously that's all it is), smut, casual sex, possibly comedic, lots of terrible flirting, tiny bit of fluff if you squint, gojo's got a daddy kink that you really have no interest in entertaining, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, creampie, blowjobs, oral sex, praise kink, some degradation, sort of cum play, banter, suguru & choso are in it too (the hot-boy sales trio)

ᰔ word count. 6.5k

a/n. hellooo this started with this concept idea i had of hot retail worker gojo who just wants to flirt with you instead of actually do his job lmfao. this was seriously just a stream of my consciousness. hope you enjoy! and thanks to everyone that wanted to be on taglist for this. creds to @quinnyundertow for the sephora lipstick idea.

The sound of Suguru’s voice was the last thing going through Gojo’s mind right now.

“Anyways, I put the car in reverse, she’s on aux. I’m thinking, she’s gotta have good taste, right? She’s the one that suggested the Maneskin concert in the first place. But you know what she starts playing? Country music. Fucking country music. And I’m not necessarily opposed to a good— dude, are you even listening?”

Choso leans over the polished display case of the mens’ latest Rolex models, staring at the two idiots in front of him. “No, he’s not. He’s been ogling the tits on that mannequin over there for the past five minutes.”

Gojo finally blinks out of his trance, irritated. “I’m not staring at the mannequin, I’m staring at—”

You. New hire. Over at the Victoria’s Secret that was across from his turf at the mall. You were standing on your tiptoes on a mini ladder, wobbling a little, reaching up for a mannequin at the display window to switch out the corny yellow sleeping mask on its face for one that was a more sleek, satin blue.

The fabric of your uniform slid up slightly, skin of your midriff exposed, and he has to suck a breath in through his teeth.

“I called dibs on that a week ago,” Suguru says from where he stood, lazily leaning on the counter.

“No fucking way. I’ve got dibs.”

“Dibs? Really? I work with a bunch of prepubescents,” Choso groans, tipping his head back to stare up at fluorescent mall lighting.

Suguru’s voice sounds like he’s lax at the jaw. “Is anyone gonna tell her that’s the ladder they use to prop the door open, and not the one to flash Satoru’s horny ass while changing out a mannequin?”

“I’ll be the one to tell her,” Gojo says.

At the display window, you slowly peel the panties off of the mannequin without a thought in the world to use the store’s modesty curtain, and Gojo, Suguru & Choso are all staring. And probably every other man within the store’s radius.

“Holy fuck,” Gojo says, strained.

“Holy fuck, indeed,” Suguru marvels.

“She’s clueless,” Choso sighs.

“You can have the mannequin, I get the girl,” Suguru offers, something just to get under Gojo’s skin.

“Shut up. I’m going over there.” He stands up onto his feet from the leather client chair he had been sprawled across up until this point of his shift.

“Can’t wait for you to royally fuck this up,” Choso muses with a smirk, arms crossing at his chest.

Gojo grumbles something under his breath when he hears Suguru’s coo of agreement, and then he’s making his way across to the Victoria’s Secret entrance. He unbuttons the top two buttons of his black dress shirt, as if he expects the sight of the skin at his collarbone to have you seduced like a victorian man seeing a lady’s ankle for the first time.

He makes it through the welcoming glass doors that lead into the sultry & dark ambience that you would expect of a lingerie store, and he rounds to the right, stopping a few feet away from you.

You were combing through a rack now, lips pursed in concentration until he clears his throat.

Glancing over, your shoulders tense and you pull your retail headset earpiece down, leaving it hanging by the wire that was clipped to the neckline of your shirt. His eyes flicker to the nametag pinned above the curve of your breast. You look at him with wide eyes. “Oh, hi sir. How can I help you?”

“Oh, no, I’m not a customer,” Gojo quickly corrects you, although he liked the sound of sir from your lips, “I work over there.” He points with a jerk of his chin towards the obnoxiously gaudy exterior of the Rolex watch store facing the two of you.

You blink at him. “Ah, I see.”

“You new here?” Gojo asks, taking a step forward and resting his elbow up on the metal bar of the rack just to get more into your space. “Haven’t seen you around.”

The corner of your lip turns up slightly at his words. “Why? Do you keep a roster?”

“I—no, not really,” he responds, already a little speechless, “wait, a roster of what?” He’d say he does if it’s a roster of pretty girls he’s been fantasizing about tit-fucking all day long, with you being at the top—no, the only one—on that list.

You shrug a little. It’s kind of meek and cute. “Of new hires?”

He breathes in deep. “Yes. Yes, I do. I just like to make sure the newbies feel welcome around here. Y’know, taken care of.”

You smile, turn to face him and relax your posture. “Oh. That’s sweet. Yeah, I feel pretty welcome here, thanks.”

“That’s good.”

“I mean, everyone’s been really nice to me so far.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, and I really like the break room on this floor. The last place I worked at didn’t have a toaster oven.”

“No way.”

“I wish the clock-in machine was easier to use though…”

“For sure.”

You glance at him suspiciously in the middle of your rant. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Cause you’re real pretty, angel.”

Your brow raises, the keys hooked to the loop of your jeans jingling as you place a curled hand to your hip. “Angel? Really? Cause of— cause of Victoria’s Secret angels?”

Gojo’s stiff, his elbow still resting on the cool metal pole, and he glances up at the ceiling before looking back down at you. “Uhh…sure? Yes.”

“That’s not very original.”

“Man, you’re really making me work hard for this. Unfortunately, that only makes me want you more.” He leans down closer to you, to catch the scent on your skin, and he can’t tell if you’re amused or annoyed from the way your cheeks round as you narrow your eyes at him.

“This is you working hard for it? You haven’t even told me your name yet, watch boy.”

He sees your fingers wrap around the cold metal bar of the rack, and he tries hard not to picture them wrapped around something else, but to no avail. You jut your hip out to bump him, pushing him out of your way, before you start rolling the rack down the store.

He trails behind you. “My name. It’s Satoru. But to you, I can be dadd-”

You stop in your tracks, turning around to face him with a scowl, but he was too distracted by the shape of your backside to be reflexive enough to stop himself in time, and he ends up crashing right into you. The momentum has you falling back with a gasp, tripping over the foot of the rack, and his arm flies around your waist to keep you upright, and then pressed up against him too just for good measure.

His face is just inches away from yours. “Shit. Sorry.”

Your arms are squished between his chest and yours, pinky tickling the skin at his collarbone, and the contact has him reeling. “I-It’s fine,” you say, lashes fluttering, “now let go of me, before I file a harassment complaint.”

He instantly retreats, releasing you, watching you stumble a bit before gaining your balance again. “God, no, please,” he sighs, “I really need this job.”

“You don’t act like it,” you mumble. You fix your hair in front of him and tuck the fabric of your shirt that came loose back into your jeans. He doesn’t have to touch your cheeks to know they feel hot, he can tell from the purse of your lips and the way you won’t make eye contact with him.

The voices of a couple women are heard from down the aisle, as well as the plastic clinking of hangers on racks as they peruse the sheer bralettes dangling in color-coded fashion. Gojo sees you struggling to pull the rack you were working with away to the side to let them through, and he comes up behind you, gripping the metal bar to do it for you. He catches the fragrance of your hair at the crown of your head, and he inhales slowly.

The women walk by, throwing a few curious glances at the two of you, and Gojo doesn’t move from where he’s holding onto the rack and has his arm pressed against yours, his only lifeline to find some reason to touch you right now.

You start pushing the rack forward again, and he continues to follow you, keeping a more respectful following distance this time. He’s distracted by the pair of crotchless panties hung over your shoulder. He picks them up by the string. “Who the fuck actually wears these?” he asks, dangling them in front of his face and turning them around in the air to inspect it.

Your eyes are set forward for your destination. “Middle-aged women that are desperate to seduce their husbands before those men ride the high of buying a $100k watch by fucking a twenty-something-year-old instead.” You snatch the pair from his hand. “I’m rooting for those women. The men at your Rolex store? Not so much.”

He’s on your heel until you round to a smaller section of the store, wheeling the rack over to a corner near the collection of lace panties sprinkled across cubbies under dim purple lighting. He glances over his shoulder and takes note that this area’s tucked away from the eyesights of the cash registers and storefront.

He hears you sigh, then say “Why are you following me?”

He meanders closer to you with his hands shoved in the pockets of his slacks. “Because…y’know, like I said, I wanna make the new hire feel settled in.”

“I literally feel so very unsettled by you right now,” you say to him with a wry expression as you start sorting through lace underwear, referencing some chart in your hand to get it right.

He walks up to you and peers over your shoulder at the illustration, and notices the way you stiffen a bit but also lean back into him. “Huh…so the cheeky panties go in the left top & bottom cubes. And they’re the ones with medium coverage and…” he squints his eyes at the chart, dim lighting doing him no favors, “and they have an alarming fit.”

You scoff through your nose. “It says alluring fit. Can you read?”

“I— shut up. Yes I can read.”

You twirl around to face him, a hint of an amused smile to your lips. His eyes widen a bit at the sight of it, until he registers it’s a cheeky one, like those panties.

“Watch boy is illiterate. Must be why you still work in retail.”

“Yes, keep being mean to me, new hire. It’s hot,” he groans, hands still in his pockets as he leans towards you. You don’t shy away, just keep on looking up at him in this little corner he has you in, a twinkle in your pupils now that he wasn’t seeing earlier.

He’s surprised when your finger hooks the fabric in between two of the buttons on his shirt. You play with the material, pinching it, but never tug on it. “What’s a grown ass man like yourself doing still working for commission at a mall?”

“Okay, ouch, a little too mean,” he backtracks, watching your tongue briefly swipe across your lip, “let’s be a bit nicer.”

Now you’re tugging on the fabric, hooked finger pulling him closer to you until his hands have to fly out of his pockets and his palms press against the wall, caging you into it. “Illiterate and can’t take a dig. Pick a struggle,” you say to him with a sweet look up.

He’s getting the sense that you’re into him too. He grabs hold of your waist, thumbs rubbing your torso over the fabric of your uniform just to get a feel. “Well,” he starts, bringing your hips forward to his, pressing the erection he was building against you, “this illiterate retail worker could fuck you real good if you’d just give him the chance.”

A small gasp leaves your lips, eyes widening and you tuck your bottom lip under your teeth. Fuck, he wants to kiss you. Wants to be the one biting your lip right now. Your hand grabs his forearm, over the veins strained from his grip on you, your nails sinking into the skin left exposed by his rolled up sleeve. “It’s…It’s real well, watch boy. You’d fuck me real well.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, I’ll fuck you real well,” he tells you, as his head tips towards your cheek, lips brushing against it. It was just a tease, so he pulls away but still looks down at you in closeness. There’s voices around the corner, but he doesn’t really care.

“You’re awfully forward,” you breathe out, and he almost goes insane at the soft whimper that leaves your lips when he can’t help but jerk his hips forward a bit.

“Y’know what? Fuck it,” he grumbles, pulling the rack across behind him so he’s created a covered haven for the two of you against this wall, and then he kisses you.

There’s a yelp that he muffles from you as his lips move against yours, slow, because you're new to him and he wants to savor it. His hand finds the small of your back, spreads across it, pushing you to arch towards him, and his teeth catch your bottom lip when he feels your breasts press against him. You’re pliant, opening your mouth for him, and he takes up the offer to taste you. Soft & warm pressed up against him, a subtle sweetness on your tongue, and he only pulls away because you squeeze his shoulder hard.

You’re breathing fast, cheeks shy, a little cutely cross-eyed from his proximity when you look up at him. “I-…okay, I’m a little mad that you’re a good kisser.”

He hums, tip of his nose brushing against yours slightly and you grip the collar of his shirt to keep him close. “I’ll kiss you nice in a lot of other places too.”

It doesn’t really take much convincing after that.

“Oh…oh my god—,” you mewl, back against the mirror of one of this fine lingerie establishment’s fitting room stalls, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks you raw with the aim to please.

“Shit, knew you’d be tight,” he groans, pressing a kiss to your jaw when you tip your head back in pleasure, throat loose with a moan, “pretty little new hire. Just had to break you in.”

“S-Satoru,” you moan through a breath, the sound of his name on your tongue having his cock twitch inside your walls, mixed with the pain of the grip you had on the hair at the back of his head.

He has your shirt bunched up along with your bra, tits exposed for him. His head dips to pull a nipple through his teeth as he feeds you with a few slow, deep thrusts, and his eye catches the earpiece of your headset, still clipped to your shirt, bouncing around with every one of his movements inside you. “Really hope that thing’s off,” he mumbles against your skin, “but if it excites you to have it on, I—fuck, I wouldn’t really mind either way.”

Your hand flies to his bicep when he runs his thumb over your clit, legs wrapping around him even tighter. “More. Need more,” you say, head in a haze, and he really could’ve cum inside you right then and there but he holds out to enjoy some more time buried in the warm pleasure of your cunt.

“If you want something from me,” he grunts between thrusts, “you’re gonna have to beg me for it, love.”

“Fuck me harder,” you cry, eyes shut closed, and he almost feels sorry for you.

“That’s a demand,” he informs, pinching the flesh of your ass and enjoying the way you clench around him from the action, “I told you to beg.”

“Please, oh my god, please—,” you start, moving your hips against his now, and he hears the lewd sound of your flesh slapping more fervently against the mirror. “Please fuck me harder.”

“Good girl. Pretty girl,” he praises you, thumb finding your clit again as a reward, “see what you get for being so nice to me now.”

He bucks his hips harder, your arms wrapping around his neck in desperation, chin resting at the top of his head as his lips fall to your neck, and he kisses, nibbles, sucks, anything to get that sweet taste in his mouth while he draws stars over your sensitive bud, eliciting broken whimpers from you over and over again.

“Gonna let me cum inside?” he asks, feeling his balls jump at just the thought of filling you up, his thighs feeling hot from the anticipation of you giving him the permission. “All that shit talk earlier about me being a dumb mall worker, but you’d still let me finish in you, right?” His hips stutter slightly, vision starting to blur, and he feels your walls flutter tightly too, “cause I bet it turns you on that you’re letting this dumb retail man fuck you senseless in a flimsy little fitting room right now, regardless.”

“Satoru, please,” you’re begging, the crack in your voice hoarse like you’re about to cry from the pleasure.

“Answer me,” he demands, retreating the thumb that was toying with your clit. He pulls one of your arms from where it was wrapped around his neck to pin your wrist to the mirror. “You want me to cum inside you or not?”

Your hips press so harshly against his that he hardly has any leeway to thrust anymore, and it makes him hiss in protest, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass to let up. “I want—mhh, I want you to cum inside me, please, please,” you plead, desperate, grinding your clit against the skin above his cock, above the place he was buried to the hilt inside of you.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, the sweet words processing in his head, and he loses all sense of control, motions eager and desperate, chasing after his high and his thumb is barely considerate enough to chase after yours too as it rubs relentlessly over your puffed up clit. You shiver against him, walls clenching around his cock impossibly tight, legs wrapping around his waist possibly even tighter, and he feels every nerve as you come undone around him. The gripping sensation your orgasm had on him has him faltering with harsh thrusts forward, and he holds your hips flush to his as the first spurt of his cum spills into you, followed by more with repetitive juts of his hips until he’s emptied himself entirely into you, and you’re just pumped full of him.

You swat at his chest, squirming as he leaks the last drop from the tip of his dick, and he can tell you’re overstimulated.

“Sorry,” he says through a short exhale, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, and he slowly pulls out of you, cock falling limp over his thigh, and he holds you until you find footing on the ground, albeit a bit wobbly.

“Oh no,” you mewl, clenching your thighs together when you feel his cum starting to drip out, and he quickly bends down to hook your panties up back into place. You give him a pointed look.

“What? The easiest clean-up is not letting it out,” he says, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to him so he gets to feel the plushness of your bare breasts against him and he kisses the top of your head. “You’re real good, new hire. Or whatever the fucking proper way to say it is.”

He can tell you’re rolling your eyes even though your face is buried in his chest.

“You’re a dumbass,” you say, sounding muffled.

—

Gojo spends about 90% of his shifts meandering across the shimmering tile floors of the mall to the Victoria’s Secret, and only spends about 10% of them actually being a watch salesman. His boss was starting to get real fuckin’ fed up with him, threatening to fire him yesterday for the two-hour lunch break he took because he was eating you out in a storage closet, but he really couldn’t be bothered to care. He was an addict, and he needed to get his fix. Not before annoying the shit out of you, though.

“Alright, daddy’s home. Let’s get to it. I’m on my lunch break,” he says, walking right up to you in the middle of your shift while you’re folding slip dresses onto a display table, his hand reaching for your waist but you retreat from him.

“For that, get the fuck away from me.”

He sighs. “I’ve been wanting to touch you all day long. Do you purposefully walk your gorgeous self across the front of the store that many times just to tease the hell out of me? I’m suffering.”

“I walk across the storefront because I’m doing my job,” you mumble to him.

“No, I swear, you do it to—”

“Sweets,” one of your coworkers calls out to you from the other end of the store, the one with a pink buzzcut that acts kinda scary. “Is that man bothering you?” she asks through a smack of her gum, “want me to call security?”

“Yes.”

“What—”

After a couple of minutes of vindicating himself to mall security that he is not a threat to public safety, which you watch in amusement with no help at all, he’s shortly back at your side in a different section of the store to annoy you.

“When are you gonna wear one of these for me?” he asks, holding up a pair of jaguar-print panties.

“Never,” you say to him, scanning the tags on the underwear in a box of new arrivals, “those are ugly.”

“Okay, how about these,” he says, pulling a pair out of the box. “They’re see-through. I like that.”

“No,” you say, snatching it out of his hand.

“Oh c’mon,” he groans, doing a quick glance over his shoulder to check if the coast is clear before taking a step forward, pulling you to him by a finger hooked through the belt hoop of your jeans. “I’ll buy them for you. Ring me up.”

You look up at him, hand placed on his chest but you weren’t pushing him away just yet. “Really? You’re gonna buy me panties from the store I literally work at? At least have the decency to shoplift them for me.”

He has a smile on his face when he leans down closer to you, both hands now playing with the loops of your jeans. “Ohhh you’re into criminals. Will you tackle me to the ground if I do?”

“Yes, to arrest you. Not to fuck you.”

“Why not both?”

“Satoru,” you chastise him when you hear footsteps around the corner, and now you’re pushing him away and clearing your throat before busying yourself with the box again as a few customers walk by. Gojo shoves his hands in his pockets, and then his eyes widen a bit when his knuckles hit something.

“Oh yeah,” he says, “I got you this.” He pulls out a small, shimmering black tube and holds it out to you with an up facing palm.

You lean forward to glance at it. “Is that…lipstick?”

“Yeah,” he says, “the lady outside Sephora was giving out samples.”

You cross your arms at your chest. “The lady outside Sephora was giving out free samples of lipstick to you?”

“Can you just take it already? My arm’s starting to hurt.”

You swipe it from him and inspect it. Popping the cap open, you twist the cheap plastic adjuster so that the tip of the wax peaks out. It was a deep shade of red. “Did she try to talk to you?”

“Uhh, yeah. Something about how this new formula is smudge-proof or something. Was hoping we could test that out.”

You roll your eyes. “She probably wanted to test that out. With you.”

“What, are you jealous?”

“Not really, no,” you say and hand the lipstick back to him. He looks at you puzzled. “Lipstick isn’t really for me, sorry.”

“I literally saw you wear some the other day. That’s what gave me the idea,” he says, “of turning my dick into the shade of your lipstick.”

“Could you be any louder?” you hiss at him, glancing at a coworker who could’ve potentially been in earshot.

He shrugs and pinches the tube of lipstick between two of his fingers, holding it up between the two of you. “You sure you don’t wanna?”

Turns out you were not too opposed to the idea, but he had to earn it by making you cum a couple times in the janitor’s closet at the end of the floor. He likes having to earn the sight of you on your knees, it turned him on way more than he had expected.

“My jaw is so fucking sore,” he complains, opening and closing his mouth a few times to stretch it out, then runs a hand across his jawline. “You were a lot less sensitive today. Took way longer.”

“Maybe you’re just not as good as you think you are,” you say, pulling the buckle of his belt loose, sitting back down onto your heels to get more comfortable while you undress him.

“Bullshit. Should’ve used that insult maybe the first or second time I gave you head. It’s too late now, after the filthy things you’ve said to me in your desperation to cum.”

He watches you flutter your lashes a few times, fingers stopping their movements, and you shift a little from where you were seated on the ground. You were aroused, but still committed to the attitude. “I don’t have to do this for you, you know.”

He shudders a little. “Wait, you seriously don’t want to? You don’t have to.”

You sigh. “You were supposed to demand me to do it anyways. Would’ve been hot.” You pull his belt loose and your thumb and index finger pinch the button open with ease. “You don’t wanna fuck me, though?”

“Of course I want to fuck you, I will always want to fuck you. But the last time we got rowdy in here, I almost killed you when I knocked the shelf over.” A chill runs down his spine. “Not taking any more chances.”

You giggle a little at the memory while zipping down the front, then your fingers dig into the fabric of both his slacks and his boxers, pulling them down until he’s sprung free, fully thick and hard, courtesy of the cute sounds you were making earlier while his tongue was playing with your clit.

“Are you not gonna put the lipstick on?” he asks.

“No.” You grab a hold of him mid-way, giving an experimental tug, and raise from your seated position onto your knees.

“But—”

“I told you, lipstick isn’t my style,” you say, eyes flickering up to him when you kiss the tip. He sucks a breath in.

“Damn, okay. I was genuinely curious if it was smudge proof. The lady was really hyping it up,” he says and he sees your shoulders drop.

“Enough of the Sephora lady,” you mumble, pressing your lips against his tip again, but as less of a kiss.

There’s a sulk in your posture from where you look up at him on your knees. His heart does this weird thing where it aches a little, and he wants to get rid of the pout on your face with a few sweet words, but he settles for pushing the tip of his cock past your lips instead. Works all the same in the end. “Good girl,” he groans when you take him all the way to the back of your throat, and your fingernails dig into the skin of his thigh as you let out a muffled moan.

“Fuck…” He pulls his hips back slightly, allowing you to adjust, but when you swallow and his tip feels the roll of those muscles, he’s pushing into your mouth again. “C-Can you take more?”

You try your best to give him a nod and you bob your head once, tongue swiping over the vein that was throbbing the proof of his need for you right now.

“I’ll finish fast, baby,” he tells you, voice husky, fingers combing through your hair gently, “just take it how I want it, and I promise I’ll be quick, okay?”

You nod again, thumb rubbing the skin near his groin in reassurance. You squirm a little and press your thighs together when he grips your hair tighter now, encouraging your head to bob up and down on him, and you do as he wants. Your cheeks hollow out, sucking on him, and he swears he’s already close to cumming.

“Yeah…fuck, yeah,” he grunts under his breath, “good. Just—just like that. You’re so good. Pretty girl,” he juts his hips forward to see if you can take it, and you do, “on her knees for me.”

Your throat vibrates with a moan, and he sees you squirm even more. You take him all the way in, to a place deeper than the back of your throat, so well without a gag but there’s a prickle of tears in your eyes, and he rubs your cheek softly while he feels the sweat collect at his temple. “Oh fuck, I’m— shit, baby. I’m close.”

You drag your lips across his length, retreating with a thorough hollow to your cheeks, and release him with a pop and your tongue stuck out connecting a string of your spit to his tip. Your hand immediately starts to rub him up and down as you look up, and the soft panting leaving your lips and fanning across his cock has him swallowing hard. “S-Sorry, needed a break.”

“That’s okay,” he says, swiping at some of the saliva pooled at the corner of your lip. “Take your time.”

You kiss his tip in acknowledgment, then take him in again, this time both hands working at the base as you bob up and down, more free with your moans and the sensation of them reverberating in the canal of your throat makes him grip your hair with both hands, desperate.

“Yes—fuck, yes,” he grunts, head tipping back and hitting the door. “Real close. Your mouth feels so good, you’re driving me insane.”

You suck on him, hard, taking him in to his favorite place that’s at the back of your throat, and when your hand reaches out to play with his balls, paired with the sensation of fast exhales through your nose onto the skin of his groin, his eyes close shut and strained and he’s jerking his hips forward to spill his cum down your throat. “Fuuuuck. Oh my god.” He exhales, watching you swallow over and over again as he pumps into your mouth, then he slowly pulls out when he feels that he’s done.

You sit back down on your heels, hands now neatly folded on your lap, looking up at him and his thumb prods at your bottom lip for you to open your mouth. You do as he wants, tongue hanging out in the process, and he sighs in satisfaction when he sees you’ve swallowed it all. “Beautiful, baby. Come here.”

With a hand wrapped around your arm, he gets you up on your feet and kisses you. You hold onto the fabric of his shirt for purchase, and he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. “Doing okay?”

“Mhm,” you nod, tightening your grip on his shirt, “I liked it. Liked it when you said I was good.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “More than good, angel. You’re perfect.”

—

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. You look like you could use a break,” Gojo says to you in Victoria’s Secret on a random Saturday morning. He usually always works on Saturday, but he’s never seen you here on a Saturday before. Apparently you were picking up extra shifts since you were going on vacation next week, something about a wedding in Spain. But you’d worked six consecutive shifts in a row, and the exhaustion was starting to show.

“I don’t know…your store scares me,” you respond back to him. You were behind the register, and he was pretending to buy forty-two pairs of panties just to talk to you.

“It’s not scary. I just want to show you around,” he says, standing up straight from where he had been leaning over the counter.

You eventually give in, toying with your name badge as you make your way around the counter to him, eyeing the smile on his face before he leads you through the aisles and eventually across the mall to the Rolex watch store.

It wasn’t horribly busy for a weekend, but there were still a few clients around. Choso was helping out a regular, a man who has bought four $200k watches within the past two months, and Choso’s been biting his nails worried he’s going to have to play witness in a tax evasion court case should that client eventually get caught by the IRS for fraud one of these days.

Suguru comes around the corner the second he sees you walk through the polished glass doors, and Gojo’s already annoyed.

“Hey, it’s the new hire,” he greets you, stretching his hand out and you accept it in a shake. “I’m Suguru.”

“Not really new here anymore,” you say to him after introducing yourself, “been here for a couple months now.”

“Oh really? Time flies. Thanks for all the shows, by the way,” he jerks his head off to the Victoria’s Secret store, “I’ve enjoyed watching the 101 ways you can remove a bra on a mannequin. Might have to incorporate some of them into my personal life.”

Gojo scoffs. “Yeah right, like a woman would let you within a hundred feet of her bra.”

Suguru raises an eyebrow with a sleazy smirk on his face, before leaning closer to you. “Should we prove him wrong about that, darling?”

Gojo hates the way he sees you blink your lashes at him and blush, so he’s grabbing your hand and walking you across the store, away from Suguru. He circles you around to the back near one of the display counters. Ladies’ new Datejust models, pretty classy and feminine. He walks to behind the counter, with you staying on the other side, like you were a genuine sale.

“See anything you like?” he asks, resting his elbow on the glass and peering down through it.

You blink at him. “Uh…of Rolex watches?”

“Yeah.”

“Mm…” you press your index finger to your chin and glance at a few. “I like that one.” You point with that same finger and he follows the line with his eyes.

“Hm,” he says, using his key to unlock the case, then slides the opening to the side to gently pull the watch out. “Oystersteel and yellow gold, 18 karat. Wanna try it on?”

“Sure.”

He releases the safety clasp, pulling apart the band, and slides it through your hand down to your wrist, then fastens the clasp until he hears a click. You immediately raise your wrist up into the air, twisting it to assess, and there’s a sparkle in your eyes.

“How much is it?” you ask.

“Thirty.”

“Thirty-what?”

“Thirty-thousand.”

Your jaw drops. “Oh my god. Get this thing off of me.”

He laughs and his hands find the clasp at your wrist, unfastening it and you’re trembling a bit as you shake it off before he catches it in his palm. “Not my fault you literally chose one of the most expensive watches we have in this section.”

“This is insane. How do people afford any of these?” you ask, feet wandering and now you’re clearly curious as you inspect the cases.

“We have more affordable watches available for lingerie store workers,” he tells you, clicking his tongue to get your attention and you turn around then follow him to the other end of the counter. He points at the glass. “These are all under three-thousand.”

“Oh…” you peer at them with interest, and he watches you. His eyes fall to your wrist.

“Here,” he says, sliding the display case door open, and pulls out another watch, “I think you’d look nice in this.”

He shows it to you for a second before releasing the clasp and holding onto your hand to slide the watch through it. After fastening it, he looks up at your expression, and his heart’s beating a bit faster. You turn your wrist in the air to marvel at the watch, and he thinks your eyes look stunning from the way the shimmer of the watch reflects off of them.

“Wow,” you say.

“I knew you’d look good in anything rose gold,” he says, both elbows on the counter as he watches you, “this one’s only a couple thousand.”

You’re still a little speechless as you look at it, right index finger tracing the dial. He wants to buy it for you. He could, it’s not much of an issue, he’d just have to kiss goodbye to that used gaming PC he’s been eyeing on craigslist for the past couple of months, but something in his gut tells him it’d be worth it. Something in the soft look in your eyes right now tells him it’d be worth it.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, his voice quiet.

“That it’s beautiful,” you say to him, swallowing and then extending your wrist out to him. “Sorry, wearing it for too long. Probably lost a few hundred bucks in value just from the two minutes it was on my wrist.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll buy it for you.”

Your mouth gapes. “W-What?”

“I mean—if you actually like it. Then, I don’t mind,” he says, suddenly a bit flustered.

“Satoru. That’s insane. This is a two-thousand dollar watch.”

He shrugs. “I know, but it looks good on you. I can’t shoplift this one for you, though. But I’ll buy it if you actually want it. And if you lie and say you don’t like it, just to be nice, I’ll read right through it. So be honest.”

“I…” you start, “I really can’t accept that.”

His eyes are level with yours, and something about your persistence in your refusal just makes him want to buy it for you even more. But he’s not gonna push it anymore. He’ll just try to work towards a day where you’ll accept it from him. Where it won’t even be a question to want to decorate you in something as pretty as you are.

“Alright. Then give it back, it’s probably only worth a couple hundred now.”

a/n. hope you enjoyed!! this was fun to write. it was supposed to be longer but i cut it short so maybe part two lol?? i also wanna write versions for choso & suguru in this au lol maybe like a multi in one verse kinda thing haha i like the idea of a hot watch salesman trio. thank you for reading 💕

taglist: @ohsehuniiee @lost-resonance @whereflowerswenttodie @horisdope @therealestpussyeater @satorminniett @tobaccosunbxrst @alekssashka7 @ritsatoru @angrychinchillanoises @shleepyking @crimsonmarabou @mxlktae @bloopsstuff @slut-4-gojo @lil-cinn @wateronlyhaha @strawberiicreme @wintertoru @mo0nforme @whispersofbeskar @who-can-touch-my-boob @quinnyundertow @ramluvr @anthastudios @sabokunsmalia @ninjaturtletoes @rylierev @dvarlinggg @heyitsmirae @sleepyyammy @lofasofabread @lolthatsnice @tetsuski @bakuhoethotski @sureconfused

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angel5ofp0rn · 8 months ago

Text

Young!Price x f!younger!reader

where u and ExHusband!Price first meet 🤭

TW (?) age gap. legal (21&30-something), but still an age gap

got a lil lazy at the end; just a dash of secks

“Jus’ one more.” You giggle to your friends, making your way through the crowd and over to the bar.

Another one more.

The bartender shakes his head when you approach.

For the fourth time.

“What’ll it be this time, kid?”

“Dunno,” You shrug animatedly. You giggle again, your cheeks warm from the alcohol. “How about…”

You turn to one of the men sitting at the bar.

“What’re you drinking?” You point a manicured finger at a tall, balaclava-wearing man with dark eyes.

He glances towards you for just a moment before looking straight ahead again, mumbling a “whiskey” under his breath.

“Eww.” You scrunch your nose. “No, not that.”

You lean over a bit, hands on the bar, looking past the scary masked man and to the man next to him.

The… gorgeous, blue eyed, clean shaven man next to him.

“What’re- whoa.” Your eyes widen for a moment. “You’re, like… whoa.”

The man exhales a small, slightly amused chortle.

“Would you, like, ‘scuse us?” You ask the scarier man.

He stares you down for a moment.

You blink, waiting for him to move.

“F’r fuck’s sake…” The big guy grumbles, standing up from the barstool and disappearing somewhere in the bar.

You happily hop onto the stool once he’s gone.

You extend your arm to the gorgeous man, your tipsiness making you more fearless than usual.

“Hi. It’s m’birthday.”

“Is it, now?” His smooth, English voice drawls out as he shakes your hand.

“Mhm!” You nod, your grin growing.

The man nods, seemingly amused with your young, drunk self.

“Are you, like, an army guy or something?” You ask, glancing up and down at him in his fatigues.

He snorts.

“I am an army guy or something.” He confirms. “John Price.”

“John Price…” You tilt your head to the side, your long hair falling over your exposed shoulder in that tiny going out top you decided to wear.

“Price is cute. Y/N Price sounds good, right?” You ask aloud, not really to anyone in particular.

“Already planning on taking my last name, are you?” He raises his eyebrows at you, entertained by all of this.

Women come up to him all the time. Can’t really go anywhere without a few flirting with him, batting their eyelashes, playing coy about how badly they want to fuck a man in uniform.

But they’re never this bold.

Usually not this young, either.

You’re a good ten years younger than him, at least; the hell do you want with him?

“Y’know,” You continue, ignoring his question. “You have the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.”

He smirks.

“Y/N!” Your girl friend calls out, waving you over to her from across the room. “Let’s go dance!”

“Oh!” You grab John’s bicep. “I love dancing. Come dance with us!”

John shakes his head, dismissing the idea.

“Don’t dance.” He takes a swig of his beer. “But, eh… Kyle here-“ He pats the shoulder of another, younger, man on the right side of him. “-Kyle likes to dance. Don’t ya, Gaz?”

“I don’ wanna dance with him.” You shake your head with a frown.

“He’s a handsome young lad.” John continues talking up his buddy as if he’s a car salesman trying to sell you the Buick. “Why don’t you-“

You cut him off, rolling your eyes as if that was the dumbest suggestion you’ve ever heard.

“What’f I dance with Kyle and he r’lly likes me?” You slur a bit.

Kyle grins.

John snorts.

“Then he likes ya.”

“No!” You groan.

Drunken you really resembles a fussy toddler.

“I don’ want Kyle’s babies, I want your babies.”

John laughs.

Kyle chokes on his drink.

“You wanna have my babies, eh?”

“Uh-huh.” You nod confidently. “I wan’ a hundred blue-eyed babies tha’ look Just. Like. You.” You poke his chest in sync with the last three words.

John raises his eyebrow at that, taking another sip of his beer.

Your friends pull you to the dance floor by your arm.

You stumble off with them, looking back at John Price and what’s-his-name.

The men don't even glance back at you once you're gone.

They just laugh it off and continue chatting.

But you? You're not giving up that easily.

You let yourself be distracted for a while; dancing, shots, bathroom selfies, whatever.

But when you see John standing up from the bar, slapping some cash down for the bartender and heading towards the exit; you follow.

"John!" You grin, arms outstretched for a hug once you meet him in the parking lot.

"Christ, you're persistent, aren't ya?" John rubs his hand over his jaw.

Your arms hook around his neck, stumbling into him. He places his hands on your waist, steadying you so you don't completely fall.

“Can’t help it,” you sigh. “I go after what I want.”

You tilt your head back to see those crystal blues that made you talk to him in the first place.

John takes a step back, gently disentangling himself from your embrace. His expression is a mix of amusement and something else…

Perhaps a hint of concern.

That’s fair; you’ve just drunkenly followed a strange man outside at night.

"You're a bit too young for me, sweetheart," he says softly. "I think you should go back inside and enjoy the rest of your birthday with your friends."

"But I like you," you protest, your arms crossing over your chest.

He sighs, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I appreciate the sentiment, love, but it's best if you forget about me. I'm not the right guy for ya."

Your lower lip juts out. A proper pout.

“Ah, c’mon. Don’t give me that.” John chortles, crossing his own arms over his chest now. “Look, this isn’t what you want. Tomorrow mornin’… you’re gonna wake up without a single thought of me in your pretty li’l head.”

“You think I’m pretty?” You ask, missing the point completely.

John looks as if he could laugh, but he doesn’t.

“I do.” John nods curtly. “I think you’re fuckin’ beautiful… but you’ve had too much to drink, haven’t you? Why don’t you let me get you an Uber, at least. Make sure ya get some safe ‘n sound.”

You reluctantly accept his offer, standing by his side as the two of you wait for your rides.

Ride.

Because you might as well share one, right?

And once you get to your place, he might as well walk you up.

You’d just be plain rude if you didn’t invite him in; he’d be a jerk if he didn’t accept the invitation.

Sure, he’ll help you remove your heels, but then he really should get going.

But then your hand touches his face when his head is near your knees.

He looks up. You rub your thumb over his jaw.

“Look-“

“‘m jus’ looking at you.”

He really, really should get going.

“Stay with me.” You beg.

“I can’t stay with you, love. I’ve gotta go now.”

He pulls the covers over you, brushes the hair away from your face, he has you text your friends to let them know you’re okay, and he’s gone…

…until the next morning, when he knocks on your door bright and early because, wouldn’t you know it, he accidentally took your phone home and he’s here to return it.

(He totally didn’t pocket it so he’d have an excuse to see you again.)

Since you’re both awake and have no plans, you might as well go to breakfast, right?

“I’m not going anywhere.” You groan, rubbing your puffy eyes.

“Go on. Get showered.” He sits on your sofa, hands folded behind his head. “I’ll wait.”

You didn’t even make it to breakfast.

Ended up having him pull over behind some trees along the way, straddling him in the driver’s seat, bouncing on his thick cock while he murmured praises about how well you’re taking him.

<< prev next >>

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revelboo · 27 days ago

Note

REVELLLLLL DROP ANOTHER SCAVENGERS CHAPTER AND MY LIFE IS YOURSSS !!!!

Disaster squad!

Lifeless Ordinary Pt 5

Scavengers x Reader

• Shifting slightly to keep an optic on Misfire and Crankcase as the two try to get behind Swindle at the bins of human things, despite Krok warning them to not steal anything. They have to realize they need this crook to get them food for you. And if they get caught, Swindle’s likely to refuse to sell them anything else. “I mean, you gotta understand with the way humans multiply, they’re everywhere. Hundreds of different languages going. How was I to know which one your pet speaks?” Swindle flashes his denta, but it’s his newest acquisition that Krok’s attention keeps sliding to. Another human sitting in the middle of a bin of cloth coverings, folding the items one by one and sorting them into stacks. Ignoring the rest of them.

• Used car salesman aura robot is back and talking with your guys. Even not understanding a word the guy is saying, you’re almost positive he’s lying through his denta as he talks to Clicky. Over the weeks of being stuck as a pet, you’d started making up names for them all. Clicky, Goggles, Wings, Broken, and Big. Not exactly creative, but naming them makes you feel better. Makes them people instead of just scary, giant robots that want who knows what from you. You’re so busy watching the fast talker, that you almost miss the other human. Almost.

• Adjusting you against his chassis, Fulcrum watches you try to signal the other human, waving an arm until they look up and chattering at them. Sagging some when they reply, shaking their little head and gesturing at Swindle. You can’t understand the other human, he realizes. So the crook isn’t lying and he winces when you slump against him, sullen now. Still muttering nonsense. “You have their language?” Krok asks, beginning to click that thing he carries around and the sound makes Swindle grimace.

• Slumping against Goggles you have the absurd urge to cry, because there’s another human right there. And they can’t understand you. Apparently the universe is having fun jerking you about. Just one thing. Can just one single thing go your way?

• “I know that language,” Swindle grumbles glancing at you in Fulcrum’s hands and tearing his optics away when Spinister grumbles softly and rests a big hand on Fulcrum’s shoulder. Staying close to his tiny pet, but letting someone else carry you so he can get to his weapons if need be. It’d be easier just to shoot the mech in the face and take everything. He’d explained that to Misfire, but the seeker had just shook his head at him like he was being the unreasonable one. These things are all things you’d need, right? So why not take them. How’s that short sighted? Relaxing some when Swindle hands the data file over to Krok and he calls for Crankcase to try it. Because if this one doesn’t work, he’s shooting the other mech no matter what Misfire says.

• “Why is it always me? Why not test things on Spinister? Or Fulcrum.” Swearing at them all, he lets Spinister install the language chip. “You’re all awful,” he mutters and you sit up straight in Fulcrum’s hands and lean so far out, the other mech pins you tighter to his chassis in surprise. Staring right at him with wide eyes.

• “I understand you!” You’re so giddy, you almost pitch out of Goggles’s hands. Because that wasn’t weird alien noise coming from Broken. He’d spoken and you’d understood him and you’re about to start bawling you’re so happy. Finally. You can go home.

#transformers x reader #idw spinister #idw fulcrum #idw krok #idw misfire #idw crankcase

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shurisneakers · 7 months ago

Text

paper man

warnings: angst, no sad ending, talks of death. unedited drabble that was written in 20 minutes.

a/n: i wanted angst and couldn't find any so i did this myself. will this make it onto my masterlist? who knows. it's 11pm and i have mary by big thief playing. my cat is yelling at me and really killing the sad girl vibe i got going. why does bucky look like a used car salesman in thunderbolts. whatever. love u guys

word count: 660

“If I die tomorrow,” he starts, eyes still staring into the TV.

Your eyebrow quirks. “You're not going to die tomorrow. We're going bowling.”

“If I die tomorrow,” Bucky repeats, and you know he's not with you. He's wandering around the morning fog and thickets of his mind, arm stuck out while he meanders inside a labyrinth.

It's late. He's right on time. You know from experience that his thoughts don't belong to him after the sun sets.

“I–” he begins, and then his mouth clamps shut again.

From across the couch, you shoot him a glance that hopefully conveys understanding. Fast food wrappers litter the worn leather, hurdles between the both of you.

“I don't have a will,” he finally manages to get out.

You let out an exhale, soft.

“Let's make one now?” you offer.

Through his mist, he looks at you. Eyes the way it would be if you tried staring into the sun. Mouth tired, shoulders so low it sinks into dirt.

“I'll write it on my phone. We can do something about it in the morning,” you continue.

Bucky turns back to the TV, and the mindless chatter of late night commercials fills in the silence you leave in your wake.

He could die tomorrow. So could you. So could everyone you knew. It was an occupational hazard you thought he'd made his peace with.

Your phone lies beside you, and you're honestly a little embarrassed that your suggestion was shot down.

Most days you don't know what he needs. Admittedly, he doesn't either. Sometimes slow kisses with his back pressed up against the headboard does the trick. Other days….well, you don't know. He never lets you see those.

You can't blame him. What you both had with each other found a description in the quiet and the twilight. You hadn't even really spent the night in his room.

“I don't have anythin’ to leave,” his voice comes out like gravel, snapping you out of the pit you wanted to dig yourself. “That's the thing. If I die tomorrow, I don't have anythin' to my name. Nothin’ that matters anyway.”

His gaze shifts downward ever so slightly. If the TV wasn't illuminating his face in a pale sickly yellow, you'd see that his cheeks were burning red. His throat feels like it's folded in on itself.

“You got people to leave things for?” you ask, watching him keenly.

He catches your eye, sending a jolt through you. You shift awkwardly on the couch.

“Think so,” he says solemnly. It reads more like a question, with the way he observes you.

“Okay.” You nod. “Then we'll find you things.”

His eyebrows knit together, deepening the crease between them.

“I don't know where to start.” His words sound raw, like a croak.

You watch his head duck again. His body is stiff, and he looks like he wants to crawl out of his skin.

You look around the room, but your eyes land on the paper remains of your dinner. A thought crossed your mind, and you hesitate.

Bucky is too busy trying to see through thick trees and fog. It stretches above him so tall, taking away even what little sunlight crawls through the leaves.

The couch dips next to him and he's snapped out his labyrinth for a second.

Your hand is held out for his. It comes so naturally that he doesn't even remember stretching his palm out to meet yours.

You drop a tiny paper man onto his metal hand. It's twisted together from a napkin and its mangled limbs are uneven.

“Just a place to start,” you tell him softly.

Bucky stares at it while you inch back to your place.

While you shift the channel to something less repetitive and tedious, his fingers wrap around the origami project.

The fog fades in the light of the morning. The trees look a little less daunting.

He's got people to leave things for.

And a tiny paper man.

#bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #Bucky angst #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier angst

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stormz369 · 6 days ago

Text

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 34

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, NSFW, MDNI, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: fluff, some light medical stuff, and some slightly possessive behaviors

wc: 3.1k

Chapter Selection

I got my license that week, and Jason promptly took me to a dealership to get my motorcycle. I didn't know much about bikes, so decided to just trust his opinions. We found one we both thought was perfect, he paid in cash and pushed the paperwork toward me.

“You want me to sign?” I tilted my head a bit.

“It's your bike, princess, it's going to be in your name.” He smiled softly. I chuckled softly, ignoring the tightly controlled expression on the salesman's face, and signed the paperwork.

I kissed his cheek, grinning, and the salesman passed us the keys. “Can we swing by Damian's school to pick him up?”

Jason chuckled, kissing my knuckles. “Anything baby girl wants~”

Jason bought a helmet for Damian while I texted Bruce, Alfred, and Damian to let them know the plan. During the ride to the school I felt so free; like everything was slotting into place. Jason led the way, and we parked out front as the last bell rang.

Damian eventually approached, followed by a girl. I pulled my helmet off, smiling brightly. “Hey Damian! Who's your friend?”

He cleared his throat; “this is Emma. She wanted to see your bike.”

Emma grinned, stepping closer. She babbled off something about the bike, but it all flew over my head. Jason chuckled, answering her questions, and I offered Damian his helmet. He took it, smiling slightly.

Jason answered the girl's questions about the bikes, and Damian hopped on behind me. Emma eventually turned to Damian grinning; “see you tomorrow, Damian~”

He nodded once, gripping my waist. I chuckled softly; “it was very nice to meet you, Emma.”

She grinned, waving, and we drove off.

“So, she seems nice?” Jason's smirk was audible in our helmets.

“Tt. Shut up, Todd.” Damian growled softly.

I chuckled softly. “So, straight to the manor, or?”

He thought for a moment. “... Yes, Father will want me home. And Alfred was talking about your training, he'll want to speak to you before he starts on dinner.”

“Oh, alright then.” I smiled softly, gently squeezing his hand on my waist, and we flew down the streets toward Wayne Manor.

The gate swung open as we approached, and Jason led us to the garage. Duke grinned as he got out of a car. “Hey! You got your license then?”

Damian hopped down, and I took his helmet for him. “Yeah! Jason and I just left the dealership!”

We all headed inside, Alfred the cat immediately jumped up to rest on Damian's shoulders, and Jason and I headed for the kitchen to look for Alfred the human.

He smiled warmly when he saw us coming; “Ah, I'm glad you're here Miss. I had a proposition for you regarding your training.”

I grinned, leaning over the kitchen island. “Hey Alfred! What'cha got for me?”

“Well, we have nearly a month before the spring semester, and nothing in your educational background leads directly to medical school, so I was thinking we could do a … sort of a crash course?”

I nodded; “something to help get me up to speed?”

“Exactly. I was a field medic myself, back in the day, and I still have my old anatomy books. We could get some preliminary training in before your proper education starts.”

“I'd really appreciate that, thanks!”

He nodded, clearly pleased. “Excellent. I'll get you those books before you leave, and you can join me for lessons twice a week? I was thinking before your combat training on Thursdays, and at the same time on Tuesdays.”

“Sounds great! It really won't be too much of an imposition?”

“Not at all, my dear. Miss Barbara may also use some of the time to get you familiar with Bat-tech. I believe she gifted you a Wayne-phone?” I nodded. “She'll want to go over your access to the Oracle system with you.”

Jason wrapped his arms around my waist, gently squeezing. I rested a hand on his, squeezing back. His arms felt so tense around me, but I smiled reassuringly up at him. He sighed, resting his forehead against my shoulder. “Sounds good, thanks!”

Alfred nodded. “Wonderful. And you two are staying for dinner, aren't you?”

“I dunno, Al-” Jason started.

Alfred cut in, a knowing smile on his face; “I'm making pot roast.”

Jason froze, frowning a bit. “... Yeah?”

I chuckled, leaning back against him. “We've got nowhere to be, right Jay?”

“... Yeah, alright. … Thanks, Alfred.”

He nodded, chuckling softly. “Very good.”

My training with Alfred started that week. As promised, he gave me several books, as well as some medical journals. I read everything he gave me, and we started going over anatomy.

Babs showed up during the next Bat training day, and gave me the rundown on the Oracle app. It was disguised as a news app, but once I logged in I was given access to view her system. I could track active Bats, send and receive messages, and even access the comms.

Babs took my phone and went back to the home page. “Now, if you get in any kind of trouble, click and hold the icon for three seconds, and…”

Dick and Tim both shouted; “turn it off!”

I jumped and laughed. “What was that???”

She giggled, releasing it and opening the app. “I sent a distress call through the system. Dick and Tim are in uniform, so they got the SOS. You turn it off by opening the app and clicking here.”

“... Does the SOS hurt them or something?”

“No, it's just annoying when you're so close!” Tim frowned, looking over at us; “it’s kinda like echolocation, so the closer we are to you the faster the pings come in.”

“... Why?”

“In case you're unable to respond to us after sending the distress call, for whatever reason.” Dick spoke in a carefully neutral tone. Jason growled softly at the idea, and Dick threw his hands up; “not that that's ever gonna happen. Just a little extra security.”

I nodded. “Makes sense. But what if someone takes the phone?”

Babs popped a piece of the phone case off and slipped an ear piece out of the case. “If you ever get called to pick up an injured Bat, or if you think you're being followed at any time, just pop this in and I'll be able to track you.”

I slid it into my ear, there was a soft beep, and a red plus in a black circle joined the Red Robin and Nightwing icons on the map. I put it back in the phone case and my symbol disappeared. Babs showed me all the icons, so I knew what everyone showed up as, and gave me a clear sheet of plexiglass with a metal bar at the top.

“Jason can install this on your bike later - if you're ever called to pick someone up, just turn it on. It will cover your plates so they can't be read, and when the cops try to scan them their system will tell them you're operating on behalf of the Bats. They won't stop you.”

“Not that you will ever have to do that. We will come to you. Right?” Jason raised an eyebrow.

Babs nodded; “yes, Jason. The plan is that they will go to her. But it's always better to be prepared for the plan to fall apart.”

I nodded, putting it with my gym bag. “Yeah, plans A through Y: you come to me. Plan Z: I pick you up.”

Jason nodded once. “... I still don't like this.”

“Would you like it more if we pretended it was impossible that I'll ever have to ask her to grab someone who passed out on the way to the clinic?” Babs sighed.

“Or that I wouldn't insist on going to get them anyway?” I raised an eyebrow, and Jay growled softly, pulling me close.

“... Just don't go out unarmed, and don't wander directly into a fight, ok? Our enemies don't abide by the Geneva Convention, they relish in attacking first responders.”

I grinned, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, and kissed him gently. “No fighting, promise.”

Jason nodded, kissing my forehead. “... I wanna get you licensed to carry a gun too. … Just in case.”

I sighed softly, but nodded. “If it'll make you more comfortable.”

“It will.”

“... You have got to be kidding me.” Jason growled into his phone. I looked over, frowning a bit. “... Fuck. … Fine. Yeah, yeah, I will. … Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

He hung up, tossing his phone aside, and rubbed his face. I raised an eyebrow; “... What?”

He looked over at me slowly. “... That was Roy. … He's got a lead on some unfinished business.”

I nodded. “You sound more upset about this than I'd expect?”

“... I'm probably gonna be out of town all week.”

I nodded, frowning a bit. “That sucks … will you be home in time for the Christmas Gala? Cause I'm not going alone, and Bruce was insistent that we go…’’

“... Last time I left town, I came back to see some jackass trying to hurt you …” he whispered, staring up at me.

I turned the stove off, moving my pan off the heat, and came over to sit next to him. “That was a fluke. I don't have that job anymore, I won't be out alone at night, and I've got the Oracle app if something does go wrong.”

He sighed, gripping my hand. “I … I know … but it did happen. … If I had been two minutes later …’’

I cupped his cheek, making him look in my eyes; “we're not gonna go down that road. You saved me, and since then I've been trained to defend myself better, and I have more resources for if something does happen. You can't be with me every minute of every day, baby. You're not supposed to be; you've gotta live your life too.”

He squeezed my hands, leaning in to kiss me gently. “... I still don't like it … if something happens, I won't be able to help.”

“... Yeah, but do you really think Dick or Tim will allow anyone to hurt me while you're away?”

He frowned. “Huh?”

“I predict that when you leave town your brothers will start checking on me daily. Because if anything happens to me while you're away, they'll never hear the end of it. Will they?”

He stared at me for a moment before chuckling softly, holding me close. “Yeah, I guess not … but …”

“... But that doesn't silence the voice telling you it's not safe, does it?” He shook his head, pulling me closer. I was nearly in his lap, and I stroked his hair gently. “... Is there anything that will make you feel ok about this?”

“... I … maybe, but …”

“What is it?”

“... This is going to sound really bad …”

“That's fine. What can we do?”

“... Can I …. CanIputatrackeronyou?” He mumbled into my shoulder.

“... Baby, you speak so fast when you're anxious. A little slower?”

“... I … I want to put a tracker on you…”

I chuckled softly, holding up my phone. “Oracle already did?”

He looked up at me, unamused, and in an instant he ripped the phone out of my hand, tossing it across the room. “And now you don't have it anymore. See how easy that was? You didn't have time to trigger the SOS, or grab the ear piece. It's just gone.”

I blinked a bit at the dark look in his eyes, stroking down his chest gently. “O- ok, I see your point. … Deep breath, Jay. It's ok.”

He sighed, shutting his eyes tightly as he pressed his face against my shoulder again. “Sorry, I … sorry. … I just … can't lose you, ma.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing the top of his head. “It's ok, baby~ … what kind of tracker are we talking about here?”

“... Something no one will think to take off you. … Like … earrings, maybe? Simple ones, nothing flashy that'd get stolen.”

I nodded. “Like basic studs? Ok. Just as something I can wear while you're away?”

“J- just so I know you're safe … not to be weird, promise, just … gotta know you're safe.”

“Ok, Jace. I'll wear it.”

He looked up at me slowly. “Really? … It's not creepy?”

“If you were literally anyone else it probably would be, but I get why you want it, and I trust you. If it will give you peace of mind, I'll wear a tracker while you're out of town on missions.”

He hugged me tighter, almost knocking the air out of my lungs as he muttered his thanks. I chuckled, stroking his hair gently. “... Don't know where you're gonna get tracker earrings at this time of night, but …’’

“I've got some at a safehouse. I can pick them up tonight.”

“... Why am I not surprised?”

Beep. Beep. Beep. My eyes opened slowly and I looked over at my phone. The green Oracle mask was flashing on the screen as I grabbed it. I tapped on the icon, grabbing my pants.

“Oracle? What's going on?”

“Hey Medic, can you get to the cave? Red Hood has been shot. He's stable, but-”

“Refusing medical care?” I was pulling clothes on, grabbing my wallet and keys.

“Yeah. Penny-One said it would be a good opportunity to teach you how to administer stitches.”

“I'll be there as fast as I can. … What kind of 'shot' are we talking about here?”

“Arm wound. He's ok, just needs the stitches. I'm clearing your route to the cave.”

I grinned, stepping into my boots. “You're amazing, Oracle.”

I locked my door and ran down to the parking lot. I clicked a button on the plexiglass license plate cover, secured my helmet, and took off. As promised, I had green lights all through the city. I drove as fast as I felt was safe, or safe enough, and made it to the cave in record time. Red Hood was sitting at the long table, with Arsenal and Nightwing leaning over him.

Batman looked over as I parked and threw myself off my bike, running over to Jason.

“Move.” Roy jumped a bit as I pushed into him, awkwardly stumbling out of the way.

“Jesus, girly, breath. Jay's alright.” He offered me an encouraging smile, but I just waved him off.

“Jason?” I carefully took his hand, examining the wound. His upper arm was a mess of wet red, but he still smiled brightly for me.

“Hey princess~ I'm ok, it was a clean shot. Just grazed me, promise.”

“He lost a lot of blood. Almost passed out on the way back into town.” Dick helpfully piped up; “Roy called me in to get him back to base.”

Jason growled at him; “just need a couple stitches. It’s fine.”

Alfred shooed the boys away, setting a first aid kit on the table. I sighed, kissing Jason's forehead, and stroked his hair gently. “You are an idiot, you know that?”

He chuckled, leaning against my hand. “Yes dear~”

Alfred and I got Jason cleaned up. He gave me a tube of medicated gel to spread around the wound - a local anesthetic. After giving it a few minutes to start working, the Brit walked me through the process to give Jason stitches. He smiled the whole time, mumbling how well I was doing. I flushed, quietly shushing him periodically.

“Let me focus…”

“Sure, sure …” he sighed, watching me work.

When I was finally done, Alfred and I bandaged his arm. I kissed the top of his shoulder, smiling gently, and stroked his hair. “How do you feel?”

“Just fine, baby. You did good.” He gently squeezed my hand.

I chuckled. “I'm glad. Think we can get you up to your room?”

“Let's just go home, baby.” He frowned a bit.

“I want you here overnight, in case any of your stitches pop or unravel or something.”

“They're not gonna-”

“Please, Jay? Just in case?” I frowned, chewing on my lip. He sighed and nodded.

“Ok, doll. Anything you want …” I kissed his forehead and coaxed him to his feet. He let me guide him to the elevator, upstairs, and to his room where he carefully sat on his bed. I helped him out of his shirt and Alfred brought us a couple sets of pajamas.

“Thanks Alfred.” I smiled brightly.

He nodded, smiling a little. “You did very well down there, Miss. Congratulations.”

“Oh … thank you.” I grinned. “I’m just glad he's ok…”

He nodded, “ah, I believe young Master Damian was hoping to see you before bed as well.”

I smiled brightly. “I'll go say hi when Jason's settled. He's just in his room?” Alfred nodded. “Great. Thanks.”

“Sleep well, Miss.” He continued down the hallway, and I turned to give Jason his pj's.

Jay smiled softly, looking up at me. “... I missed you, doll.”

I chuckled, kissing him gently. “Missed you too, Jay~”

He cupped my cheek; “... Go ahead and check on the demon brat. I'll be fine.”

“Ok, thanks baby.” I kissed him again and pulled on my pj's before going to knock on Damian's door.

“Enter.” His voice called out softly. I opened the door, slipping inside. His bedside lamp was on, and he sat up more in his large bed, setting aside his book. “Good evening, sister.”

I smiled softly, sitting on the side of his bed; “good evening, baby brother~” I held a hand out, and he slowly leaned in, letting me push some hair out of his face. “getting ready for bed?”

He nodded, smiling softly as his eyes fluttered shut. “It is a school night …”

“You want me to sing to you?” He nodded again, shifting to lay back.

Damian got comfortable, letting me tuck him in as I sang softly. Once his soft snores filled the room I kissed his forehead, turned the lamp off, and left the room. In the hall I almost ran straight into a tall, looming figure.

“Oh! Sorry, Bruce.”

He stared at me, a sad look in his eyes. “... It's alright. … Damian asked for you?”

I nodded. “Yeah?”

“... That's … nice.”

“... Something wrong?”

“... I sang for him, that time. … He never asked again…”

“Ok?”

“... He still asks for you though.”

“... It's what our relationship has been the whole time. Your relationship is different, that’s allowed. It's good, actually, for him to have different relationships with different people.”

“... I just … I hoped he'd ask again.”

I shrugged. “I understand, but ... You have your things with him, and I have mine. But if you want to spend more time with your children, there's a really easy way to start.”

He sighed. “What's that?”

“Ask.”

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

fanart in the header by: @crowkip

Taglist (open):

@jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa @whore-of-many-hot-men @cottage-worm @v1ckycheesue @roastyyytoastyyy @sarakmec @thestarcatcher7297 @stupidlyunhinged @mishkapi @mermaidgirl-11 @bunniboo0015 @bibibusinessman @iimichie

#fanfic #fanfiction #jason todd #dc fanfic #jason todd x reader #dc #red hood x reader #first person pov #wayne family adventures #no y/n #multichapter fic #Can I Get Your Number?#chubby reader

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kechiwrites · 1 year ago

Text

kerberos

touya, natsuo, and shoto todoroki x f!reader kinktober countdown day four, (foursomes)

synopsis: "...the air is sucked out of the room, and you’re frozen in place as they move above you, forming a beast overhead, one with a sneering maw, frigid hands and a piercing gaze."

wc: 4k

cw: a dabi-less au, but touya is still a lil fucked up, fem + afab!reader, drunk sex, threats of violence/harm, anal play, fingering, dubcon, foursomes, creampie, oral (m + f receiving), praise, pet names (honey, baby), hair pulling, light choking, degradation, finger-sucking, a little bit of powerplay / dom sub undertones, mdni.

author's note: a fic that didn't make it in time for kinktober last year, finally finished. this originally started as a natsuo fic, but the other boys wanted to play too. (everyone is 20+)

It sounds like someone’s humming, jovially, quietly, when you stir to consciousness, the alcohol in your system thrumming through your veins, loosening your limbs, making it near impossible to guess the hour. The curtains are drawn in the room, the lights low, leaving the room just bright enough to make out the figure above you. Then, the figure seems to split in three.

“I can't believe you got me to do this with you, and I can't believe you dragged Shouto into it too."

A derisive sounding scoff bounces off the walls, and the bed you're lying on sinks with the weight of someone sitting on it. The voice speaking is so familiar. You know you could place it if the world would just stop spinning so quickly.

“C’mon, you saw the way she flirted with us. She’ll love it. I promise.” Another voice stage whispers. A hand brushes your cheek and you follow it, nestling your face into the calloused palm, opening your mouth when a finger presses against your lips, letting the digit settle on your tongue.

“Cute.” The first voice sighs, and it’s too far away to be whoever is touching you, the person who pushes their thumb (you’re sure of it now) deeper into your mouth.

“Good morning sunshine.” Touya Todoroki smiles down at you, all big hands and white teeth and cerulean eyes that meet yours when you finally rouse from half-consciousness. Your face warms in embarrassment, and you draw back, Touya’s thumb withdrawing from your mouth and leaving it woefully, humiliatingly empty.

Your voice is high and tight in your throat when you finally speak, after your eyes have adjusted to the low light of the room. "Ah. Good morning?" You respond, apprehensive and more than a little startled. When you realize exactly who else is in the room with you, the last few hours of the night flood your mind in an instant.

Arriving at the Todoroki Estate for Shouto’s birthday party, drinking a ridiculous amount of tequila with Mina and Momo, grinding against Bakugo until he had to excuse himself to the bathroom, sidling up to Natsuo and Touya in their little “older brother corner”, pressing your hand to each of their abdomens and giggling before prattling on and on about the “family resemblance” and mumbling something about wanting to see if all Todoroki men had “super huge feet”.

You distinctly remember Touya’s knife-sharp smirk when he grabbed you by the chin and murmured to you, “Ask what you really want to ask, honey.”

You also remember whimpering before blacking out right in front of them, crumpling to the floor.

Jesus, that’s embarrassing. Pretty quickly you reason that they must’ve carried you upstairs, and you couldn’t have been out that long, because you can still hear the party raging on downstairs. Your friends are most likely getting drunk in your absence, assured of your safety stashed away.

“I didn’t mean to pass out like that. I just…” You drift off, peeking at the eldest Todoroki through your eyelashes.

“It's fiiiiine." Touya stretches out the word like a seedy car salesman, giving your eyes time to skip from him to Natsuo by his side, to Shouto, who's leaning against the far bedroom wall. "You know Natsuo wanted to keep you all for himself, wanted to lock you up and knock you up.” Touya laughs at his own joke, elbowing Natsuo in the side and receiving a scowl for his troubles.

"But I convinced him it’s only right to share, after all, he wasn't the one who saw you first."

You hear Natsuo mumble something that sounds suspiciously like "neither did you" before he crowds into your vision too. His face up close is a marvel. Steel gray eyes, clear skin and perfect white teeth.

"Is your head alright?" His fingers lightly graze the back of your head and it takes everything within you to not shiver at his proximity.

"Haven't had any complaints." You hiccup your response without missing a beat.

You are definitely still intoxicated.

Natsuo looks concerned while Touya laughs at your expense. Shouto stays blissfully quiet. And though it’s one of your favourite traits of his, it seems it’s short lived. He pushes off the wall and stands at the foot of bed, bringing all three men into your field of vision for the first time.

“Maybe we should wait. At least until we’re sure she doesn’t have a concussion.” the youngest Todoroki looks you over in concern, his face still typically placid.

You sit at attention, head swimming at the sudden shift in your position.

“Wait for what?”

“For us to give you what you asked for.” Touya intones, brows almost reaching his hairline.

Your palms sweat and your heart thumps in your chest, so loud you worry it can be heard over the pounding bass downstairs.

“I don’t wanna wait.” You mumble it so low you can almost convince yourself you didn’t say it. Like the words appeared out of nowhere, spoken by a stupid, reckless, horny spectre.

Four words.

But apparently, that’s all it takes. The air is sucked out of the room, and you’re frozen in place as they move above you, forming a beast overhead, one with a sneering maw, frigid hands and a piercing gaze.

Natsuo is the first to kiss you, and his skin is so cool, you're surprised you can't see your own breath when you pant a sigh against his lips. His kiss is slow and building, constant, consistent pressure that only stops when he pulls back to stare at your dazed expression. Touya is next, shouldering Natsuo out of the way, his hard on is urgent and searing against your stomach when he plasters himself to your front. Touya crushes his mouth against yours, impatient and searching. If Natsuo is a glacier then Touya is a goddamn wildfire, hot and fast and vicious, all teeth and branding tongue.

Your dress was pretty much non-existent to begin with, strappy black fabric and gold buckles. Natsuo and Touya's hands make quick work of the cloth, stripping you down to your underwear, clothing tossed haphazardly to the ground, discarded, unneeded.

"Are you just going to stand there, Shouto? Because if you wanna watch, that's fine. I just figure our girl here needs as much attention as she can get.” Touya calls over his shoulder, pulling your underwear down your legs. He drops the panties at his brother’s feet while Natsuo circles around you, situating himself behind you so you're reclined between his spread legs, your back resting against his chest instead of the headboard. His fingertips graze a trail in-between your shoulder blades, unhooking your bra, clasp by clasp, pressing a barely there kiss into the middle of your back. You smile at the tenderness of the action even as your brain struggles to catch up with what’s happening.

The moment doesn’t escape Touya’s attention.

There’s an indent between his eyebrows, betraying his irritation.

“Y’know,” He simpers, settling on the bed in front of you, leering, “I feel like my handprint would look so good,” The eldest brother places his open palm over one of your hips, “right here, permanently. It’d only hurt for a minute” You choke on your answer, but it’s not really a question to begin with. His palm heats on your skin and you scramble back further into Natsuo’s chest, letting him wrap his arms around you,

“Touya, don’t be an asshole.” Natsuo bites, his tone acidic, “You’re scaring her.”

“Then why don't you take charge for a bit, little brother?” Over your head, Touya meets his brother’s eyes, his challenge clear.

You can feel Natsuo bristle behind you, his hackles rising at Touya's goading.

"Fine. Touya, why don't you shut the fuck up and tongue her tits for a while?”

The corner of Touya’s lips curl up, before he descends on you as ordered, mouth nibbling, sucking and kissing at the skin of your chest. The piercings decorating the shell of his ears glint back the light from the lone illuminated lamp in the room, blinding you momentarily before Natsuo angles your head upwards, covering your mouth with his own.

He traces the seam of your lips with his tongue, groaning when you open up for him, the cool surface of his palm tightening around your throat. Your nipples pebble under Touya’s attention, he uses his teeth more than anything else, biting and scraping and only soothing the pain when you cry out when it gets to be too much.

“Fuck,” and Natsuo’s voice is already so wrung out despite you barely having done anything, “you like when he hurts you?” He whispers, rubbing his thumb over your cheek repeatedly, a perfect contrast to Touya’s canines on your skin. You nod frantically, letting the second oldest sink his teeth into your bottom lip, then soothe the pain with the tip of his tongue.

Shouto crouches at the foot of the bed, watching his brothers touch you with hooded eyes. “I would’ve done this months ago. If you’d just asked me. But you’re greedy aren't you? I wouldn’t have been enough. You wanted them to fuck you too. Didn’t you?” His eyes never stray from your cunt, his voice is pitched low and so, so quiet, it’s almost as if he’s speaking to himself. You stare at Shouto, jaw dropped in shock at the filth pouring from his mouth, and when he finally drags his eyes from your pussy, it takes only a second for him to shove Touya out of the way and kneel between your thighs.

“I-I.” You stumble over your words, the lingering haze of alcohol weighing your tongue down in your mouth, making you clumsy, needy. You give up on speaking coherently, deciding to just shift lower, spread your thighs further, so Shouto can situate himself in between. He places a hand over your thigh, digging his thumb into the underside, crowding so close you can feel the puff of his breaths against your pussy.

“I won’t touch you until you tell me the truth.” He mutters, and you aren’t sure if he’s telling you or reminding himself. Even with Natsuo behind you, away from view, you know they’re all staring at you, you know they’re all waiting.

And it’s mortifying.

You bob your head in the affirmative, hoping it’ll be enough.

“Say it.” Touya urges, his hand on Shouto’s shoulder, finger digging into the fabric of his brother’s shirt.

The words stick in your throat at first, like your tongue is sitting in your mouth wrong, blocking the admission. “I-I wanted all of you.” Touya whistles saucily, Natsuo smiles into the crown of your head, and Shouto sighs, then he gives in.

“What a slut.” There’s so much blood rushing in your ears you almost miss Touya saying it. Instead, you opt to focus on Natsuo sinking his fingers into your mouth, covering your tongue with the rough, cold surface of his digits.

“Our slut.” Shouto corrects immediately and his tone is so insanely earnest you hiccup a laugh, even with your lips stretched around two of Natsuo’s fingers.

Shouto makes good on his promise immediately, his hand sliding between your legs, palm covering your pussy gently before his calloused fingertips move in a silky slide down your wet folds. Your body breaks out in goosebumps, all while Shouto eases two fingers in and out of you, deceptively quiet, letting the room fill with the sounds of you creaming against his hand. Your breath flees as his fingers thrust just inside your slick heat, teasing you with soft friction. You try so hard to stop yourself from holding your breath, periodically remembering how to inhale.

Your thigh is almost uncomfortably warm where Touya’s head lies, cheek pressed to bare skin. He groans happily as he watches his youngest brother’s fingers disappear into the dripping, tight clutch of your cunt.

“Right.” He murmurs, sinking his teeth into the plush flesh below him. “Ours.”

Shouto drops his head to lave at your clit in sweet, probing circles, making your toes curl and your hips twitch. It’s all you can do to not rip his hair from his head when your hands fist in his red and white locks. Natsuo tugs at the tips of your chest, rolling your already hypersensitive nipples between his fingers. It’s mind altering, how badly you want to come from this, your skin is covered in a fine layer of sweat and you jerk and buck against Touya keeping you held down. It feels as though Shouto is doing everything in his power to keep you lingering right on the edge, balancing the rapidly tying knot in your stomach with your desire to have this go on forever.

“As fun as this is to watch, I’m getting a little impatient here.” You watch as Touya palms himself through his jeans, undoing the fly when he realizes he has your attention again.

“We agreed I’d go first.” Natsuo grunts from behind you and Touya's eyes turn flinty in response but his stare never leaves yours, even as he talks down to his brother.

“Well I’m the oldest, dipshit.”

Natsuo continues groping at your chest until you break eye contact with the eldest Todoroki. Your head hangs down, getting an eyeful of Shouto pulling away, licking the taste of you from his lips. You open your mouth, to thank him? To cuss him out for stopping? You just don’t know and ultimately it doesn't even matter because before you can say anything, Natsuo sinks his teeth into the nape of your neck, biting down so hard he almost breaks skin.

“Fine.” He concedes, and Shouto wordlessly pulls away from you, eyes downcast and disappointed, like he can’t bear to part his mouth from your cunt. You bear down around nothing while Touya replaces Shouto, tapping the already hard tip of his dick against the puffy lips of your pussy. You buck your hips, silently begging him to get on with it, hoping to provoke Touya into action.

“Should I hold her open, little brother? I wouldn’t want either of you to miss me breaking her in.” He slides his thumbs up the lips of your entrance, keeping you exposed while Natsuo grinds the hard column of his cock against the small of your back. The shine in the eldest’s eyes is borderline scary, his gaze strips all artifice, any blustering confidence. Under Touya’s stare it’s not just your body that’s naked, it’s your fucking soul.

God, you’re really drunk.

Touya fists the root of his dick, slipping the angry red tip over your clit, once, twice, teasing you until you tilt your hips, wordlessly pleading with him again to push inside you. Finally, Touya concedes, shoving himself deep all at once, letting the girth of his cock spread you open. You cunt drips its contentment all over his pelvis, the sound of your hips colliding with his almost drowning out your fevered, breathless pleas.

He presses both hands to your shoulders, pushing you impossibly closer to Natsuo, making it absurdly difficult for you to squirm away.

The way Touya fucks you takes you by surprise. He’s slow, maliciously so. The heavy weight of his dick carves into you inch by inch, like he wants you to go insane. It isn't until he’s halfway in that you realize Touya has a piercing, several actually, concealed by the angle he’d had from above. What feels like six stainless steel orbs bracket the underside of his cock, three on each side. They’re not massive, thank god, so the sensation is barely perceptible at first, but once he’s finally all the way in, his hips flush with yours, the metal nudges and presses against the spongy spot inside you that makes you see stars. You dig your fingernails into his shoulder and when he smirks at you, you struggle to not bite the motherfucker. It’s clear he takes pride in the overwhelmed and impatient expression on your face, keeping his predatory glare on you while he grinds in deeper, not stopping until your eyes turn skyward.

He barely thrusts in and out, opting instead to pick and prod at your already pathetic mental fortitude by crushing his front to yours, bullying your insides with the head of his cock while you shriek and hum and sob with the overwhelming pleasure he brings you. He presses a flat palm to your abdomen, pushing down hard and greedily rubbing his pelvis against yours; “Fuck, you really are something. Natsu, pull on her tits again, bet she gets so goddamn tight.” Natsuo follows the instruction, tugging mercilessly, coercing you into arching your back. Touya takes advantage and slides his free hand under your ass before you can bring your hips back down again. Two fingers rub boldly at the entrance below your pussy, and you flinch violently when Touya pushes against you. You shake your head, hissing from the beginning aches of a forced intrusion and Natsuo and Shouto bite in unison; “Knock it off!”

Touya, to his credit, merely rolls his eyes and moves his hand lower, rubbing at your perineum in slow purposeful circles that occasionally allow the pad of his fingers to catch the rim of your asshole. You squirm beneath him until he starts fucking into you again, piercings, now warmed by your body heat, brushing what feels like every nerve ending you’ve ever had. Touya watches you bounce on his cock, all while you lay in his brother’s arms, thrashing when the feeling gets to be too much. Your cunt pulses around him, milking an orgasm out of him before he can warn you.

Not that you think he would to begin with.

“Fuck. Fuck. That’s it, squeeze down on me, baby.” He jolts forward, and the sound of his pelvis hitting yours is punctuated by the long drawn out groan of Touya being spent. You kick your leg out in frustration when he pulls out, whining low and watery in your throat at not getting to come again. All Touya does in response is lay a quick open-palm slap at your thigh, wink at you and smile, pleased, you assume, to have gotten a nut off before anyone else.

Mission accomplished you guess.

Shouto shoves his brother aside, and you could cry to God with how happy you are to see him between your thighs again. When the youngest brother seals his mouth around one of your nipples, sucking in long, desperate pulls, it feels almost vindictive. Like he’s punishing you for enjoying yourself, for enjoying how his brothers touch you, fuck you. Occasionally, his tongue flicks against it, pressing the peak against the ridge of his teeth, all while he grazes his rough fingertips against your inner thighs. His cheeks are flushed and he’s panting, honest to god out of breath at the sight of you, pussy puffy and used, hazy eyes heavily lidded, mouth slick and parted around gentle, quiet sighs in the shape of his name. He thumbs at the lips of your cunt, pulling you open, spreading you so he can see everything, watching you clench around nothing, watching you leak Touya’s come onto the bed sheets. “So needy.” he mumbles, and you both hang there, just for a second, while Shouto stares, consumes.

And then...he’s on you.

He isn't as big as Touya, but dear god does he make up for it in enthusiasm. So unlike the teasing, drawn out grinding and half strokes of his older brother, Shouto ruts against you like your pussy is the only thing keeping him alive.

The black t-shirt Shouto wears makes his shoulders seem even broader than before, his frame looms above you, arms heaving up and pushing back the weight of your thighs, until Natsuo helps by holding them up too, until you're very nearly bent in half for them. your toes are curled and bounce with every thrust he completes against you. The slow, thick drip of his brother’s cum leaks from your cunt, where the greedy pace of his thrusts disturbs it, sliding down the plush curve of your ass before dripping down into an obscene puddle below you.

The easy glide is perfect, nudging over and over at the rough spot deep within you. The tip of his cock knocks repeatedly against your insides and the sensation disables any and all coherent thought.

You choke on your spit as he fucks into you, gripping the bedsheets so hard you swear you can hear them tear in protest. Your core protests at the strain but you manage it, keeping your legs steady while they bracket the youngest Todoroki’s ears. Shouto tugs you further down the mattress, forcing you to slide down Natsuo’s front, and when your cheek makes contact with the middle brother’s hard-on, you place wet, open mouth kisses on his fly. Natsuo takes a fistful of your hair and tugs, separating you from his cock, brutally. You keen in pain, but Shouto’s dick distracts you from the worst of it, tunnelling inside you and striking that spongy spot that makes your vision go blinding white. Natsuo fishes his cock out frantically, as though he’s been waiting for your go-ahead, which is...sweet. Rather, it would be if he hadn’t agreed to debase you with his brothers while you were still heavily intoxicated. The younger, white haired brother releases you only when he’s completely free of the confines of his jeans, and smacks the length of his cock against your mouth, rubbing the shaft over your tongue when you present it to him for use. Natsuo is thick, thicker than both his brothers. His dick is mouthwatering, straining and red and threaded with angry looking veins you are desperate to taste. He won’t let you take it all though, will only let you kiss and mouth at it while he jerks himself off. Guides you to suck on his balls and stare into his eyes while Shouto fucks you harder, bringing his thumb to the hood of your clit and rubbing with intention. He must’ve been at his limit, because of the three of you, Natsuo comes first with a pleasured grunt, jerking his hips and covering his hand and the side of your face with his come. And though you know logically that it’s impossible, you had kind of expected his nut to be...cold.

Hands trembling, the middle brother returns his attention to your chest, smearing his spend over your nipples, pinching at them in time with the swipes of Shouto’s thumb.

You finally get to come, waves of it hitting you and dragging you undertow, smacking into your body so hard you give yourself a burgeoning headache from clenching your jaw. Your body spasms, over and over and Shouto fucks you through it all, eventually adding his own seed to the mess between your thighs.

At least you think he did. It’s hard to distinguish what happens around the time you pass out from the fucked up cocktail of exhaustion, intoxication and the sedating power of the best dick you’ve ever had.

When you surface some time later, Touya is gone. “Fucked off somewhere,” Natsuo provides when you ask and...well you aren’t sure if it’s a relief or a disappointment.

Best not to think about it.

Shouto is there though, gliding a warm, damp towel over your heated skin, while Natsuo, who it seems, hasn’t moved from behind you, presses soft kisses to the crown of your head, your cheeks, your throat. He plays with the gold hoop earrings you're still wearing, rubbing your earlobes, and tugging on the jewellery every so often.

“How was it?” Natsuo asks, his voice quiet and soothing, and despite having just woken up, you could see yourself succumbing to its gentle tone and slipping into sleep once again.

“Good,” you respond, murmuring quietly. Shouto finishes cleaning you off, tossing the towel into a nearby hamper. “Really good.”

Natsuo chuckles, and his breath huffs over your ear.

“Good.” He tightens his arms around your middle.

“Good.” Shouto nods, sitting at the foot of the bed.

“Good.” You repeat.

and so, i make my glorious return to bnha. support city girls who would do anything, including kill, for one night with soft yet firm dom natsuo. reblog what you like.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

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octuscle · 1 month ago

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Second Hand

Scott and Hector didn't want to go to this stupid school dance at all. But their parents both insisted. They said it would be an unforgettable event and that they would draw on it for the rest of their lives. They had even both been given money to buy new tuxedos. A crazy 500 dollars each. What weed they could have bought with that! But still, the two of them now needed a tuxedo. “Cheap tuxedo Chicago” Scott googled. The first result was an address with carnival costumes. That didn't seem appropriate. He scrolled a bit. And then came the entry of a second-hand store. He knew the area. There was a guy around the corner who occasionally supplied him with weed to smoke. This had to be a twist of fate. They would spend the $1000 today. And come home with more than two tuxedos. The two congratulated each other on this excellent plan and their luck. Hector donated the last weed he had and the two smoked in joyful anticipation of plenty of supplies.

It was almost a 30-minute bus ride. The area looked bad. Most of the shops were boarded up, rubbish was lying on the streets, and there were wrecked cars at the side of the road. Only the second-hand shop made a well-kept impression. The mannequins looked extremely old-fashioned. But the clothes they were wearing were decorated in such a way that any hipster would have jumped for joy at the retro fashion. Unfortunately, Scott and Hector were not hipsters. They were fashion grouches. They just wanted a cheap tuxedo. Nothing else.

When they entered the shop, an old-fashioned doorbell rang. The shop was empty. Oldies were playing on a radio. Music they knew from their parents. They looked around uncertainly. And then the voice came from offstage. “Bros, what can I do for you?” A young man had appeared out of nowhere. He had a cool mullet, which was back in fashion. Although somehow it looked different on him. Somehow… vintage? Yes, that suited him, like his clothes. Hector's mother had a thing for an actor named Something Fox. Or something like that. He used to have to watch old movies with his mother with this small-framed actor. And the salesman here in the store looked like he had been an extra in one of the movies. “I hope you can help us, dude,” Scott said with a slightly dry voice. ‘We have to go to some stupid ball and we need a tuxedo or whatever that stuff is called. Something cheap!’ The young man asked what ‘cheap’ meant to them. Scott had no idea what to say. He wasn't really into poker or haggling. “We have $100…” ‘Guys, don't worry, we'll find two tuxedos for you!’ the salesman interrupted them. Hector nudged his buddy in the ribs. It was really their lucky day. They had said that they each wanted to spend a maximum of $100. They would never have dared to dream that they would get two tuxedos for that price.

“My name is Michael, by the way,” said the young man. Hector had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing out loud. Michael J. Fox! Exactly! That was the name of his mother's favorite actor. Michael took the two of them to the back of the store. Here suits were hanging on the racks. ‘Guys, I don't have much of a selection when it comes to tuxedos right now.’ He took two suits off the rack. Here, this is the best I can offer you at the moment.” In one hand he held a tuxedo made of cheap polyester, in the other something made of leather or faux leather. Even though the two of them knew little about fashion, it was clear to them that the two tuxedos were mercilessly out of fashion. They must have had rather horrified faces, because Michael replied immediately, ‘And because of the Black Friday stuff, both are available for 80 dollars together’. And with a wink, he added that there was also a bit of weed as a bonus. Scott couldn't help grinning. That sounded like a deal. He grabbed the leather tuxedo and said, “Mine, dude.” Hector acted offended and took the other one. He was quite happy. He thought a leather tuxedo was kind of gay.

Laughter came from Scott's dressing room. “You okay, buddy?” Michael asked. Scott stepped out of the dressing room, wearing only the tuxedo pants. The pants were way too long and flopped around on his skinny pothead legs. Michael grinned and said that maybe they needed to be shortened a bit. He turned up the waistband and asked Scott to turn around. “But your muscular ass looks great in these pants.” ‘My what?’ Scott thought to himself. He turned to the mirror. What he saw was out of this world! The shiny black material stretched around two perfectly shaped ass cheeks. Without warning, Michael reached into his crotch. Scott winced. ‘Dude,’ Michael said. ”Never get dressed without a jockstrap. Otherwise you can see every detail of your beast through the material!” Scott tried to correct the fit of his cock. Yes, you could see everything. His cock wasn't even hard. Not yet. But he would have the same problem with any pair of pants. But hardly any would fit so perfectly. He turned in front of the mirror. The pants fit his narrow waist just as well as his muscular thighs. He hadn't thought he'd find something that fit so well in a thrift store. Michael came back and threw him a jockstrap. Scott reacted a little too late and the jockstrap landed in his face. Shit, where had he left it again? It was still warm and damp from the last workout. Hell yes, he would recognize the smell of his jockstraps anywhere. “Then I'll try the tuxedo top,“ he said

“Hey, Michael, can you help me?” Michael followed right into Hector's dressing room. He couldn't help grinning. Hector looked like a ten-year-old had put on his father's tuxedo. He literally sank into the fabric. “You really don't have anything else? Shit, it doesn't fit at all!” Hector said. Michael walked around Hector, pulled on the fabric a bit and said that it would look different if he wore a real shirt and not his pothead T-shirt underneath. And in terms of length, Hector would need it. He's quite a giant, after all. How tall is he? 6'2"? “It's 6'3", to be honest,“ Hector replied, shooting up at that moment. “Speaking of shirts, will you bring me one?” Scott's bass boomed through the shop. “XXL or XXXL?” Michael asked, kneeling in front of Hector, trying to pin the waistband. “Better bring XXXL,” Scott replied with a laugh. But Michael was distracted. On his knees, Hector's crotch in his face, the smell of sweat and musk from his trousers. He got a hard-on. And so did Hector, obviously. Instead of continuing to fix the trousers, he opened Hector's fly, whose cock popped out like a jack-in-the-box. Michael had Hector's glans in his mouth faster than Hector could see.

On the radio, Night Ranger's “The Secret Of My Success” was playing, from the soundtrack to the new Michael J Fox movie. Michael had trouble swallowing Hector's cock. He often had true stallions as customers, but that was a premium cock. He looked up and saw far above Hector's muscular torso, his face contorted with lust. Michael grasped Hector's firm ass cheeks and shoved his cock all the way into his face. Hector let out a loud moan as he shot his load. A second load hit Michael in the neck. Scott had been looking for his shirts and had watched the two of them jerking off.

Michael was in seventh heaven. He rarely had such horny customers to serve. And both bought brand-new tuxedos with all the trimmings. He had lusted after a hot cock and made almost $1,000 in sales. He could be more than satisfied. Scott and Hector, however, were more than satisfied themselves. They looked at themselves in the mirror. The tuxedos looked hot and fit like a glove. Their hair was perfectly styled, and they were about to make a first-class appearance at the premiere of the new Sylvester Stallone movie, Over the Top. Both had had a small part in one scene and had competed against each other in the background of Sly in an arm-wrestling contest. Of course, they hoped that this would be their breakthrough. If Arnie and Sly made it from the gym to the silver screen, why not them?

They made a few local papers. And there was actually a photo in Variety. Okay, they misspelled Hector's last name and gave Scott's age as 32 instead of 28. But hey! Better wrong publicity than no publicity!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #ai image #age progression #time warp

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comfycozycrossfox · 1 year ago

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hi sorry i’m watching Nimona and it has so cemented itself in my brain as one of the best movies in the world less than halfway through just because of that one moment that Bal’s trying to hide while a car salesman shows him a car and the fucking car starts playing “BREAKING THE LAW, BREAKING THE LAW-“

i say that CONSTANTLY. i don’t even know what the song is. I’m fairly sure it’s a thing I picked up from my parents because i’ve been saying it for YEARS. I lost my SHIT. every time I do something of a low-level crime (usually speeding or like. not stopping at a stop sign when there’s no one for miles.) Either out loud or in my head i go “BREAKING THE LAW, BREAKING THE LAW”

and i think that’s literally the first time i’ve actually heard a sound clip of it (i’m assuming that’s the actual song it’s from) and it’s used in a very good moment. anyway. lost it.

#nimona

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aka-indulgence · 11 months ago

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Knocking (on your window)

It’s Ravioli time :]

When one night you find the aptly named “Smiling Man” out your window, you call a friend for some help.

CW: home invasion from a wobbly guy

—————

“Are you sure that’s the smiling man?”

You look out the window. A long, lanky ‘man’ stands outside, just under a streetlamp, spotlighted by it. He’s waving at you in a way that makes it look like his arms have no bones, or any other solid structure inside it.

“Yeah… pretty sure,” you grimace.

Its smile was so… unsettling. Just teeth. No lips.

“You sure it’s not just someone in a costume or something? There are some weird people in this town, or those college kids messing about,”

“Sarah!!” You cry desperately, “What guy stands over seven feet tall and looks like he’s only slightly more solid than those used-car salesman balloon thingy?? He doesn’t have skin! His face is just… shadows! And some eyes and teeth!”

“Some reports say he’s over seven feet five inches,”

You make a sound akin to a steaming kettle.

“That! Really doesn’t help!”

“Sorry,” you can hear Sarah’s apologetic grin through the phone. “You’re right, that’s probably pretty hard to fake. So he’s stretching his arms?”

You squint.

“Yeah… he’s stretching his right arm right now,”

“Uh oh. What’s he doing? Is he trying to grab you?”

“Um…” you look back at the cryptid. He hasn’t stopped waving or smiling at you. He might as well be some highly advanced floppy car salesman balloon with how consistently he’s doing it, except his mouth keeps moving. His teeth waving like they weren’t set in gum. You feel goosebumps travel up your back.

“Not… exactly? He’s just. Standing there. Looking at me. And… waving.”

“... Is it a threatening wave?”

“I don’t know?? He’s smiling. Is that a bad or a good sign?”

“Hm. Could go either way, honestly. You’re not looking him in the eyes are you?”

“What?!” You jump, your skin turning cold. You were looking for comfort when you called Sarah, some way to deal with a cryptid looking at you through your bedroom window, but this was having the opposite effect. You look down at the carpet, just to be safe.

“Is- is that a bad thing? I’ve been looking at him this whole time!”

“Uh… probably not great…” Sarah sighs, (while you scream internally), “Generally you don’t want him to notice you. I mean, most cryptids I read up on says that, just a general ‘don’t bother the weird creature just in case they’re dangerous’ sort of thing. From what I read he’s dangerous based on his mood? It looks like he mostly just hangs around an area and looks creepy. Sometimes asks for candy.”

There’s a confused noise on the other end, then a pause. A tap.

“Here it says ignoring him when he wants attention might make him more pushy so maybe it’s ok…?”

“What? So do I look at him or not?”

“Hang on! It’s a bit contradictory,”

You make a noise of discomfort, balling the ends of your pajama shirt in your hand.

“Ok if that’s… whatever, is there anything on your creepy spooky books that tell you about how to drive him away?”

“I’m looking this up online. Also… one sec I can’t find anything that says how to get rid of him… I think they mostly just tell you t-”

You blow out your phone’s mic and Sarah’s speaker when you scream, because- the smiling man was at your window now, his hand rap-tap-tapping on your window, long spindly fingers scratching down the glass and making your hairs stand. Ochre eyes peer at you over the sill. Did he get taller…? His pupils were wide… and blank.

“What, what?!”

“HE’S HERE!”

“What do you mean-”

“HE’S AT MY WINDOW. YEP. He’s definitely noticing me, a lot right now, hahaha- whatdoIdo.” You laugh manically, death gripping your phone.

“Uh-” You’re pretty sure Sarah could hear the sound of scratching on her end, “well did you lock everything?”

“Yeah-” You say confidently until you see that your window is in fact not locked. At the same time the smiling man sees where you’re looking and- you slam the window shut with your body before he tries anything, locking the window.

… The smiling man looks like he isn’t smiling. His eyes looked… furrowed? Though there are no evidence of eyebrows. He scratches more on the window.

“Iiin…. iiiiiin….” It moans.

Hahaha, nope! You smile panickedly.

“I… I think I locked everything,” you say, though now… you’re not so sure.

And even more concerningly, the smiling man was walking away from the window.

“Did you?”

Your back was starting to soak from the sweat.

“I… don’t know,”

“(Y/n)!!” Sarah shouts.

“Hold on I’m- I’m gonna check don’t hang up!”

Ignoring her sounds of confusion, you open your bedroom door, (just barely covering your scream when you see a spider run by into your room. Normally that was enough to send you into a panicking spiral, but you had bigger fish to fry.) You practically fell down the stairs to check on your doors and windows, turning every light on.

The perks of having a house: Having a house, in this economy!

Cons of having a house: Not great if there’s a inhuman monster waiting outside while living alone.

You don’t open your windows too much downstairs, but you thought the same about your bedroom window. You slip your hands under curtains to double check that they were locked…

A pair of gangly legs walk by as shadows on the curtain. You hear the smiling man, muttering… something. It sounded like he was saying words, but you couldn’t make them out. Sometimes he sounded like there were two voices talking over each other, as if he had a second mouth (god, you hoped not). His voice sounded both like an abyss deep rumble and distorted high pitched sighs.

You wished you were back in your hometown, when cryptids were just funny, probably-not-real things you’d hear about online. Far away from you.

Can he hear you in here?

Having the utmost caution, you tiptoed over to the door and quietly click its light on.

It was closed.

Phew. Ok that’s good.

No entry points for him.

Clicking it off, you skipped your way back to the stairs, doing your best to reassure yourself that he probably can’t get in now, turning on your phone’s flashlight before turning the rest of the lights off. You felt like a kid again, running up the stairs as soon as the lights turn off, and- oh god he’s scratching the door.

You race to your room and lock the door, letting out a long sigh as you lean against it.

“Sarah, you still there?”

“No way am I leaving you while you’re having a horror experience.”

“Thanks.”

You wander over to the window and close the curtains. Don’t want the smiling man to be peeking at you. You turn the lights on and sit on the bed, smoothing your forehead and controlling your breathing. Now that you calmed down a bit, you were feeling a lot colder.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight,”

“Hah, I don’t blame you. Who would?”

“You alright with me calling you for a bit longer?”

“Yeah,” Sarah responds, though you could hear her yawning on the other end. “I’m getting a bit tired but I can call for probably another half hour.”

You never thought Sarah’s cryptid research was going to be anything more than ‘wow these folktales are really neat’ conversations, but you’re glad she knows. You don’t know how you’d hold up if you were completely alone.

“You think I should call the police or something?”

“About a cryptid? They’d probably laugh at you. Something about only calling them for emergencies. I tried when I was twelve-”

Your smile while you listened to Sarah disappears when you hear a click. Very quiet- you wouldn’t have heard it if you weren’t so alert right now. Slowly, you turn your head around and…

Your window is open.

Your freeze. How…?

“No one fucking believed me when I told them I saw the Geyser bat. Yeah like I didn’t hear him stomping on my-”

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!” You screech, your phone dropping to the carpet with a thunk. Inside your room was the smiling man, his head bent to the side- the ceiling was too short for him.

“Hee….” the creature smiles, his teeth going up as high as beside his eyes. “Hhh…. hi…”

“(Y/n)? What’s happening?!”

“HE’S IN MY ROOM!” You yell, looking at the device on the floor while you fumble with your door’s lock.

Fuck- my phone! You reach for it, but the creature grabs it with his dark hand, examining it… then hangs up.

He throws it behind him.

Fuck your hand’s so sweaty it keeps slipping on the-!

“No… escape.”

You scream. He’s grabbed your wrist and your other hand, and pulls you to him- like his arms were made of rubber band, snapping you towards him.

“Nononono NO!!”

You’re spun around, and when your head stopped spinning, you realize you’re tangled in his rope-like arms. He leans in close to you, his void-black face staring at you, too close.

“Hiii…. girl…friend.”

#aka writing #ravioli oc #he just wants to get to know you a little better #👉👈

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