Synopsis. Trapped with a too-smug, too-handsome Nightwing by the very same villains you were trying to swindle was not how you planned to spend your night. Luckily for you, Gojo can think of a much better way to pass the time.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! anti-hero!reader, Nightwing! Gojo, BATMAN AU, enemies-to-Iovers, forced proximity, píning, MARATHONS, manhandIing, Gojo goes FÉRAL, overstím, he is BIG, making it fit, cervíx kíssing, tummy buIges, BREÉDING, RIPPING suits, spítting, cúmplay, chokíng, arguing during it, PÚSSYDRÚNK GOJO, matíng presses, making Gojo CRY, oraI (f + m rec.), p talking, breaking furniture, Red Hood! Geto cameo, slight vioIence, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 10.4k
A/N. *evil laughs* I just had to.
“You.”
“You.”
“Enchanté, sweetheart.” And Gojo - oh, it’s so undeniably Gojo Satoru’s sapphire gaze behind that satiny mask - tilts over his tall, bubbling glass of champagne towards you with the cockiest of winks. A wink.
Your teeth set on edge - out of all the pompous, boorish high society balls that he could crash undercover, it just had to be the one that you were planning to heist.
And by the most pompous, boorish hero of all.
If looks could kilI, then you’d be upturning Gojo’s grave to finish him off yourself already.
“Didn’t think you were one for masquerade balls.” He’s leaning in to brush off an invisible piece of lint from your shoulder, words coming out in scorching hot puffs against your ear. Low, hoarse. “Changed much during your lil’ vacation, hm? How is the Gotham State Penitentiary this time of year?”
“Oh, I don’t know. How’s the hottest one of the Bat Family doing?” You’re sniping back, head cocked innocently. Silent for just how long it takes for Gojo’s eyes to widen, breath to hitch- “Y’know…Toji Fushiguro. How’s Batman doing, Nightwing?”
There’s a strangely sharp glint in his stare, and his traitorously handsome jaw clenches through a wild grin.
With a wide sweep of the bustling ballroom, he murmurs over the live orchestra. “You’re gonna give me away~”
“Don’t even have to try.” You’re tilting your head up in defiance when he closes in so many sultry inches, all the way until you could feel the heated press of Gojo’s ticking biceps through his formal suit. Heady masculine cologne invading your senses, “That mask does more than enough damage.”
Honestly, what fool dons a disguise with a mask that looks exactly like his hero one?
Though, you weren’t complaining - if Nightwing accidentally provided the perfect distraction for you to swindle future big-shot congressman and business heir, Naoya Zenin, out of his precious diamonds then so be it.
The fact that Batman’s protégé would be humiliated was only a plus.
Scoffing, “So what you’re saying is you want me out of it? Scandalous, but I don’t fuck before a first date.”
A very, very big plus.
“Never in your wildest dreams, Nightwing.” You’re pettily raising your voice just a pitch to make the sculptured man in front of you squirm, as much as he would never admit it. “S’it that you don’t fuck or you don’t get to? Come here to try out your hand with the wives of the bourgeoisie?”
“I’m here on business, sweetheart. Gotta get to that brat Naoya’s office.” Gojo nods towards a gaggle of ogling older ladies, ever-the-charmer.
It’s enough to make them swoon, and - you hate to admit it - for your heart to stutter just a beat.
Because Gojo Satoru looked good. All powerful, lean muscle that carried him so many numerous inches over six feet. The rich, yolkish lighting makes his dark blue jacket look almost painted to his slender waist, and those meaty, meaty thighs.
Easily the sexiest man in this room full of sordid businessmen and shifty politicians.
If you dared to let your gaze roam, you’re sure they’d stray past his milky collarbones to catch a hint of the even tighter black and blue hero suit he was surely wearing under.
He looked more than good, if you were being honest.
But when has one of Gotham’s most notorious cat burglars ever needed to be honest?
And you’re so caught up in pondering just what the others see in him that it gives you an electric jolt to feel the doughy pads of Gojo’s gloved fingertips brushing down your thigh. Feeling as if he was searing through your saucy, glittering gown.
There’s a tremor of amusement when his sensory tips meet the cold hilt of your famed dagger. Hidden.
Tonality dripping with something sickly sweet that makes your tummy lurch, “And it seems like I’m not the only one, Prowler. The Zenin diamonds?”
“The Zenin drug smuggling ring?”
You both give a curt, almost-missable nod. Your eyes back to analyzing the sprawling celebrations for any sign of the aforementioned Zenin heir himself.
Though, not for long- “Y’know, maybe I should send you back to your lovely penitentiary right now, girl. Already did once.” Whispered right against your sensitive earlobe.
“Darling–” Your plastic smile is almost painful as you feel the interested stares from around the room. You did make quite an eye-catching pair, especially so close. Hand drifting to his beefy, veined forearm and pinching, “-you’re too close~”
“I don’t think I’m close enough.”
Nails clawing down his smooth skin and towards his pale wrist. “Close enough for me to strike a vein without a single person here knowing any better.”
“That’s kinda hot–” Gojo’s lips quirk upwards, sleek brows quirking up to the curtain of his snowy bangs. And you don’t know where to look - down below, where he’s adjusting his pants with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, or up above where his irises follow a triangle between both your eyes n’ your lips, dead-on. “-for a petty thief.”
“You little-”
“Big, actually.” And of course, he has to interrupt with a look on his face that tells you he knew you were fighting to not take a glance downwards and confirm for yourself. “I’m very big.”
“I hear words compensate.” You’re batting your lashes through your own lacy Stygian mask, too close. “And I hear Toji’s bigger.”
“Enough with the-”
“My my, young love sure is fiery!” Saved by a rough, booming voice to your side of the festivities. Though, you’re not sure if it would technically be considered a “save” when you’re finally snapping your head and recognizing the source of those words. “I always do tell Naoya ‘ere that it’s time to settle down. No such luck so far!”
As Naobito Zenin slaps an overly harsh hand down on his son’s crisp, suit-cladden shoulder with a bark of laughter, you mutter. “Can’t imagine why.”
Though, perhaps it was a bit too loud.
Because Naoya’s nostrils flare in a sharp inhale, and you’re hearing Gojo stifle a breathy rumble of laughter from his broad chest- shit, since when were you two even pressed up like this? No wonder it must have looked…romantic to an outsider.
“Naobito Zenin, at your service.”
“Ah, my apologies for being so rude.” You’re pushing away from the hero as if it burned - and by the strange tingling on your skin, maybe it really did. Reaching over to the wizened, leering man for a handshake. “I’m-”
“Mrs. Gojo, of course.” Gojo gets there first. “My wife and I are new to Gotham, you see. We wanted to make connections here in our new home.” A warm hand casually slings over your shoulder, slender digits tight. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
What….the fuck.
And perhaps you should’ve screamed bloody murder - maybe that would make the Zenin’s take pity on you after an encounter with this lecher.
“That’s right.” Perhaps you shouldn’t have leaned in just as you did to his hard front. But if the way that Gojo was momentarily stunned told you anything, it was that you were doing something right. “It’s all been quite a change.”
Naoya’s thin, mahogany brows raise silently - new to the city and already invited to one of the most elite social gatherings of the year? That certainly was intriguing.
“Gojo? Gojo…so familiar…” Naobito muses out loud, and your veins boil with anxiety as his face scrunches. Before he clicks his fingers with flourish, “A-ha–! You wouldn’t have anything to do with the revered Gojo Enterprises now, would you?”
Your faux-husband places a hand over his heart, “Ah, my most beloved little project.”
“President?”
“CEO.”
Calling a multi-billion dollar foreign company a “little project” was generous, you think. But what was even more so was- “Though, it’s nothing in comparison to what I have coming up soon.” Gojo gasps dramatically, “Oh! We probably shouldn’t reveal much, however. Confidential, only friends and family.”
Naobito Zenin was practically frothing from the mouth at this point. And you notice that even Naoya’s suspicious furrow had almost completely disappeared. Almost.
“C-confidential-” The older man squeals, before bumping a fist into Gojo’s puffed-up chest. “Why, we’re friends now, aren’t we? Tell me tell me- just between you and I, how big are we talking?”
“Big.”
“Bigger than Gojo Enterprises? S-surely impossible-”
You cut in, “Bigger. Better, considering the association with the parliament we’ve negotiated this time. Whoops- my apologies, darling, that simply slipped out.”
And through it all, Naoya stays unnervingly quiet - even while his father tries and fails to hide his squawks of delight.
It would’ve almost been comedic if the air wasn’t so cut-throat tense. As if the clinking glasses and chatter of the ball were infinite miles away from your little bubble now.
Past animosity almost evaporated, you’re managing to meet Gojo’s eyes. His cloud-pale eyebrows wiggling with a knowing waver, and you find yourself plastering on an exaggerated look of distress before carrying out the finishing blow.
“Oh, but you know–” Patting the delicious curves of his pecs, “-my husband has been so stressed lately. I’m afraid he’ll overwork himself mad with this new project.”
“Aw, dear…”
“I do wish he’d take on a partner to collaborate and split the innumerable profits with. But, alas, there hasn’t been a company competent or high-profile enough for our taste.”
And by the sharp elbow Naobito digs into Naoya’s ribs, you already know that you’ve won. Well, that the two of you have won.
Reluctantly, almost as if every word made his bones ache, his son purses out a tight. “Well, Mr. and Mrs. Gojo, my father and I certainly hope this isn’t too forward, but we believe that- ah, we might just be exactly what you’re looking for.”
You both adopt a look of faint surprise, “Oh?”
Another nudge, another step forward.
“Apologies for the late introduction, but I’m Naoya Zenin. Future congressman, future CEO of the immensely successful Zenin Corporations” Each syllable practically oozing with icy smugness, “I believe I know what you want, and we are it. Please, allow me to reach out on behalf of our Zenin hospitality and lead the two of you to our private business room; where we can discuss this further…in-depth.”
Somehow, the trail end of his sentence made you shudder.
“Ah, how wonderful!” Gojo’s arm wraps possessively around your waist, “Lead the way, Naoya.”
And if you were lucky to be led straight to the dragon’s lair of treasures, then you were even luckier when one of those said dragons stayed behind.
Indeed, Naobito was held back in conversation with another undoubtedly important parliamentary figure as you and Gojo followed Naoya out of the massive, gilded doors. Silent. Rigid.
“Take him out. Drug-smuggling documents, then diamonds.” Gojo rasps from the corner of his mouth, voice barely audible for you let alone the stiff figure a few steps in front of you. Leading you along windingly decadent corridors and staircases.
You’re shaking your head, eyes following the velvety curtains and gleaming ornaments on display and wondering whether you should increase your scope for this heist even more than just the diamonds. “Diamonds, then whatever. I don’t give a shit what you do.”
“Drug-smuggling documents, then diamonds, then prison for you, girl.” He snarks back, “Unless– you wanna make up for this appalling date by actually going out with-”
“We’re here.”
It seems that the Zenin’s did have quite an affinity for interrupting you two at the most important of times.
And the only thing keeping Gojo from curling his features into a sneer is the sight of those rich, mahogany double doors in front of him. This was it.
The infamous Zenin office room.
With enough secrets to overturn the nation, and– Gojo sneaks a glimpse at the determined set of your gaze - enough diamonds, too.
Naoya’s spindly fingers twist on the burnished golden door handles, letting them creak open just a few inches ajar. Dim lighting floods out through the crack, and you’re seeing the outline of an expensive cross between an office room and a lounge room.
He gestures his hands in a wave inside with an almost-bored sort of drawl, “Guests first, I insist.”
Your fingers itch towards the dagger strapped to your thigh, and Gojo’s stare narrows. Tone steely yet polite, “No no, as the future master of the house-”
“I insist.”
“Alright…” He plants a staggering palm on the small of your back, “Come along then, sweetheart.”
Tentatively stepping onto the luxurious red carpet inside at the same time, you swear from your cunning optics you see Naoya’s lips twitch-
And then it happens.
All in the span of a nanosecond that neither you nor Gojo have the time to react - the floor and the ceiling crack open in an almost metre-wide line dividing you two and the door, a thick wall of metal snapping! shut in place before you can blink, and suddenly– suddenly, you’re trapped.
“Fuck-”
“No!”
“You must excuse me for the rude welcome-” Naoya’s voice drifts over, and you’re noticing that the gleaming wall had a small window pane. Enough for you to see a sliver of crazed, honeypool eyes, “-Prowler and Nightwing.”
He knows.
Of course, he knew. You were here trapped between a thoroughly bolted, heavy-duty panel of metal harder than diamonds. Ones especially made for trained heroes and- well, you.
And one furious bang! of your fist told you that not even your overpowered strength would be able to break through - it barely even rattled the barrier’s bolts that proudly stood circumference of your head. Running the expanse from floor to ceiling, you were backed into a corner.
Looking behind you, you’re met with the rest of the gleaming office; shelves upon shelves of books, a busy desk, cushy loveseats. And no window.
No exit.
He’s spitting, face twisting into heaps of wrinkles as he grins. “My father might be half-blind, but I’m not.” Pointing accusingly, “You almost got me, I admit. But any fool could tell- the tension, the stupid flirting. Who else would it fuckin’ be if not for you two?”
Crossing your arms, you do your best to keep out the tremble in your voice. “Quite frankly, I’m almost insulted.”
“I’m not.”
And you do not glower at Gojo…this time. To firmly disprove Naoya’s point, if anything.
The other man clenches his teeth, throwing his hands. “I don’t care what you feel. This is checkmate, so now you both simply die.”
Running your hands through your cage, you could practically feel the power. The strength. “Well, it seems you’re not just beauty- well, you’re not beauty at all, actually.”
“Don’t forget, he isn’t brains either.” Gojo pipes up, nodding towards you. “I know this daddy’s boy wasn’t the one to make this lair. It reads more like the works of-”
“Shut up shut up shut up-” You and him watch in mild astonishment as your captor drags his fingers through his hay-blond locks and pulls. You swear you could count every red, popped blood vessel in his bulging eyes. “-insufferable fucking- I have you two at my mercy, and when my father hears about this he will be pleased. Very pleased.”
You will yourself not to gulp, “There’s nothing you can do to us.”
“Wait and watch. After all, I am the future head of Zenin Corporations, I’ll kill both of you. It doesn’t matter how.”
Before you can torment him any further, he turns tail and throws a withering glare your way. Hands on the doors, it feels like something leaden is forming in your throat. “Better sit tight until the ball ends and we can have our ah- fun little afterparty.”
.
.
.
“Can’t you stop that infernal noise, girl.”
You’re halting your body mid-punch, a thin line of sweat trickling from your temple. Heaving out, “I don’t see you helping.”
Not even waiting for a response before you’re back to gifting the office wall with a solid CLANG! You’d already attempted the same with the metallic partition, to not even a single crater. And by the unaffected state of the rest of the room, you’re slowly realizing that every one of these four walls might just be made from the same material.
Fuck.
BANG!
“For fucks-”
“What are you doing, then?” You’re whirling around to face a precarious Gojo Satoru, standing on one foot on top of a high bookshelf and murmuring utterly ridiculously to something clutched in his palm. “An interpretive dance routine won’t get us out of here.”
He’s been like this for the entire time - it could’ve been hours, it could’ve been minutes - since you’ve been trapped here. All he’s done was rifle through a few files and snatch a few documents. And…this.
Hell- you didn’t even find your diamonds, yet.
“You think about ‘us’ a lot?”
Rolling your eyes- you can’t even bother with a scowl. Instead, turning back to spend your time planting CRASH! after CRASH! over his protests.
“Keep it down, sweetheart, I can’t-” Punching your way through even harder - making even louder noise, on purpose. “-hear-” Perhaps you could kill him before Naoya even gets here. “-the mic-”
“What?” You’re grunting, ears still ringing from the deafening noise yourself.
And just then you find your brows knitting together because Gojo Satoru looks so…satisfied. It strikes you to your very core. Which was definitely never a good sign.
Jumping down from the bookshelf in one, fluid motion, he shows off a tiny rounded gadget grasped in one hand. “You’ll see.” Gojo purrs at your questioning gaze, winking. “You’ll see very soon. We’ll be fine, promise.”
Yeah, you really didn’t like the sound of that.
But before you can swivel back to your target - you swear you were seeing a crack - Gojo’s tucking away the mysterious object into his jacket pocket and taking it off. Letting the silken fabric hit the floor with a dull schwf! Right along with his tie, his belt-
“Wh-what are you doing?” It comes out more breathless than you’d have liked.
“Changing into my supersuit, that’s what.” He lifts up his mask to roll his eyes, full and well knowing. The pinkish perk of his tongue drags a slow glide of wetness across his lips as he unbuckles his belt - looking you straight in the eyes. “Why? This turn ya on, sweetheart?”
“No.”
Yes.
Fuck, you hated how even despite turning away, you couldn’t help but angle your body just so that you’re ogling Gojo from your peripheries. You hated how every thud of clothes hitting the floor made a fresh new layer of goosebumps bead along your clammy, heated skin.
It was so hot.
“You should do the same– you must be getting warm with all that ruthless, blundering violence.” Comes the sing-song voice from behind you, oh- he was enjoying this. It sent Gojo’s heart racing to watch the way you were all flustered because of his actions. His body.
Scoffing, another punch. “You just want to see skin, lecher.”
“With a body like that- fuck yeah.”
“Save it for the wives of the bourgeoisie.”
“Scared, Prowler?”
Oh, for the love of-
“Not on your life, Nightwing.”
And then you do it.
You make the mistake of giving into your instinctual desire to glare at Gojo Satoru, as if your eyes never wanted to leave him. And then you see it.
All his long, tantalizing muscles and curves - being hugged so tightly in that black and blue suit that you could count every one of his eight washboard abs. Fuck. Gojo’s body seemed to go on for miles, pulling the latex tightly over his rippling flesh.
Right on cure, your eyes trail from the bulging valley of his pecs, to the ridges of his v-line to…you gulp.
You always did think it gave him an unfair advantage - just how sexy he was. It was one of the reasons he managed to distract you enough to lock you up in Gotham State Penitentiary last time, after all.
Tittering, “Take a picture it’ll-”
“Take this fist to your face.”
“Kinky~ it’ll only make me harder, y’know.”
Hard-er.
And all of a sudden it was as if the tension in the room was like molasses, and you were drowning in the saccharine concoction. Nightwing- Gojo really was too cocky for his own good, but what was even worse was he could back it up, too.
Your skin flares up with a burning breeze, and your voice comes out peaky. “Fine.” Through his mask, you swear his eyes widen once your hands fly up to take off your own. And then to the zipper of your gown, “But only because it’s so hot.”
Pulling it down just an inch before-
“Wait…let me?”
Just a flash of that glossy black suit of yours, just a single sneak-peek of it enveloping your skin and he was pressing you to the wall. Ravenous.
You were gorgeous.
Balmy heat of his body making yours sizzle up, all Gojo needs is only one of his massive palms to pin both your wrists wayyy above your head. Meaty thighs massaging up against yours to stop your jostling body.
Lips twitching up into a smirk at the carnal hunger in your eyes, “Let me…help with that, yeah?” His gravelly words resound in your eardrums and make your thighs squeeze. The fat fringes of his digits draw slow lines down the side of your figure, memorizing. “S’a hero’s duty, after all.”
You’re growling, “Do it. Do it if you’re not scar- ah!”
But that’s exactly what Gojo had been waiting for.
Exactly the moment to make your pretty voice break, exactly the moment for him to tuck a finger behind your back and all but rip–! your dress from the back.
“Would ya look at thaaaat-” He’s snickering out in awe as your flimsy gown falls halfway through tatters around you, all along with your dagger. Revealing a snug suit that makes his mouth simply water. All gorgeous lines of your body that he can’t get enough of. “Always fuckin’ hated this suit.”
His sinful pants strike you in gusts when Gojo leans his admiring head down, down, down to push right into the valley between your heaving tits. “Made me s-soooo fucking hard every time I saw ya in it.”
Did you just make Gojo Satoru stutter?
No wait- even better, was that achingly hard outline bumping right between your legs what you thought it was?
He’s rubbing the swollen outline of his mushroom tip at the target of your hot core, drinking in that cutely surprised expression on your face. Something devilish. “Oh~? What’s this? I-if this is what it took to shut that pretty mouth, I’d have done it sooner.”
But what he didn’t account for was the way that you would take the initiative shutting him up.
The way you would breach that almost-non-existent air between you two and crash your lips onto his. In French kiss so filthy that it makes Gojo moan–
“You’re better like this-” You spit between his strawberry pink lips, the taste of his bubblegum sweet taste now your most favorite. Cherry flavored, almost. “-when you shut up.”
In response, he’s nipping on your lower lip and draaaagging. Smirking at the adorable squeal that lets off from your ajar jaw, “Can’t even keep yer h-hands off of me, always knew you found me irresistible.” And Gojo doesn’t even need his other hand to entrap you now, pinning you with his muscled front. A sultry glissade of mere inches up n’ down up n’ down up n’-
You could tell that he was big.
So could that soft palm of yours, sneaking down to cop an agonizing feel of his rotund bulge. Fingers rovering generously along the damp crevice of his slit, “What was that?”
“Found me ir-re-sis-”
Harder.
“Shiiiit.” He hiccups, head swimming. “Suck- suck on my tongue.”
You do. Making Gojo’s eyes glaze over at the twist of your pillowy lips, making him rut-
“Fuckin’ dirty little thing.” The rough texture of his tastebuds swirl across your own, and even through his mask you swear he looked fucked-out already. Taking off his suave gloves, he leaves one spank on your thigh. Two. “Mmm- spread them f’me now.”
You’re snarling, despite the furious throb you feel from your leaking cunt. “Who’d ya think you are to ngh- boss me around?”
“Have it your way then, girl.”
And when he says that shit, he means it.
Before you know it, he’s sitting on the capped curves of his knees with a loud bam! You’re grimacing for but a mere split-second at just how much it must have hurt, before realizing that Gojo doesn’t care.
It’s the last fucking thing on his mind once he’s gliding an open, calloused palm underneath one of your unsteady legs and wrangling it on top of his sculpted shoulders.
You’re latching a hand through his soft, fawny strands with a yelp. “Asshole.”
“Witch.”
“Pussy.”
“Pussy, alriiight—” The borders of his short, manicured nails draw an invisible line down, down, down to coast the puffy fissure of your pussylips. Before pinching and tearing cleanly between the legs of your latex suit. Breathing deeply in- “There she is. Pretty girl…hey there, the name’s Satoru. I’m the stuff of your wettest dreams.”
You can’t even bite out a retort - a plea - before Gojo’s diving nose-deep allll the way into your drooling cunt. Nudging apart your gluey folds with his perky buttoned nose, lengthy tongue slathering your hole with a fat drag-
He’s basically glued. Addicted with only a single taste, and swerving his tongue to scratch up in solid, dizzying circles around and around your soppy entrance.
“Sh-shit-” Your thighs break out in jitters, and he only responds with a firm tug to interlock your craned limb ‘round his neck. Making your spine bend the perfect curvature off of the cool wall, “-more. More.”
SPANK!
The rims of Gojo’s fingers burn into the globes of your ass, and he’s so unrepentant about it. So smug. Making such a spectacular show of letting your globs of slick pour down his tongue.
Kiss-bitten maw hanging wiiidely agape to make you watch the thick rivulets of sap that hit the back of his awaiting throat. He’s dripping wet all the way down to his bobbing Adam’s apple, treacly splotches of juice hitting the floor in puddles.
Gojo gurgles out something feral, still mushing his pert maw to your wet mound so you’re feeling each n’ every vibration.
“Dooooown, kitty.” Another spank, and another steamy snog of his mouth. Though, this time he’s letting his pearly whites catch on your plumpened clit. Dangerously so. “Watch ngh- watch it, I bite.”
With a frustrated tut, you’re pushing his pretty features even deeper into your pussy. Making him pinch your sensitive nub between his teeth even harder. Slobbering a long drag from every inch of his pointed chin, to the very apples of his high cheekbones.
“Maybe m’into that…Satoru.”
“Oh- Oh.” Through the bleary gaps in your eyes, you’re noticing that Gojo was blushing. Bright. Red up to the tips of his ears. Burning skin chafing up into your own, and you’re practically melting at his heat.
That sound was like heaven to him. You were like heaven to him. And Gojo’s dilated irises hold direct eye contact with you once he’s digging his round fingertips roughly onto your asscheeks. Resonating out such saturated squelches after squelches as his tongue laps every nook and cranny. “You’re gonna get it- fuck, you’re gonna get it, sweetheart.”
So many delirious moans rip out of you with every slash of his tongue, perking it in every right sensitive spot of yours - without even trying.
Mewling, “Toru- ngh- Toru.”
“Easy there, easy there.” He giggles out in a wet sputter right into your inner thighs, ragged voice all waterlogged with so many ounces of you and your sweet pussy. In the blink of an eye, you feel like you’re floating - only mere moments later do you realize that it’s because Gojo’s holding you up.
With only one hand.
Relieving you of any thought other than jerking your cunt repeatedly on top of his open mouth in a sultry tempo. Back and forth.
“Have no idea h-how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He spits into your weeping pussy - both literally and figuratively. Free hand darting upwards to push aside the glutinous barrier of your folds and spray it with a thick wad of spittle. Licking over the shiny sheen, “No idea. Always actin’ so ngh- high and mighty. Had to fuck my fist every time I fought ya, had to run off and- shiiiit cum to the thought of you all over my tongue.”
Gojo was babbling, and right now it was as if he started and couldn’t stop.
“Annoying fuckin’ girl.” He’s snarling, every syllable falling out before he can even think. The swollen point his thumb treks past your walls and catches on the fluttering orifice of your hole. “Ya just need to be eaten out reeeeal proper. Lemme show you how it’s done.”
Then you feel like you’re being split-apart, and you knew you were fucked.
Because Gojo’s fingers were both long and girthy.
Such a lethal combination that had you mussing up his silky bangs while you held on for dear life.
His barreling inches crawl right past that first cozy outer ring, showering it with such lustrous layers of pure, slippery need. Pushing and pushing until they’re skirting to thrash right into the bulging area of your g-spot.
And just when he’s pummelling your molten wall with a harsh strike, just when Gojo’s mouth parts at the pure ecstasy of finding it. Of how pretty you looked.
You’re letting your own, too, in a frail whimper. “Th-that all you got, Nightwing?”
“Ohhh, I love a woman that bullies me.”
All that Gojo whispers into your cunt - low, almost reverent - before his touch turns deadly. Cock aching painfully, thighs squeezing together until his pulsing, hot shaft gets squeezed.
You’re faced with the full force of his slick-covered fingers pumping direct hit after hit. Sending white-hot flashes of pressure straight from the stout ends of his fingerpads and right to your brain.
“That all I got? H-heh, that all I got-” He’s echoing your previous words like a mantra. Breaking. Octaves higher as if he was on the verge of laughing. “How fucking cute.”
“C-cute?”
“So fucking cute.”
“I-I’m not- fuck!”
Pinpointing his long index purposefully in a massage right up against your g-spot, like it was a button for him to toy and push.
Gojo’s smile leers ever-wider as he holds it there, listening to the way your moans pitch creakily. “What’s that?” And you’re barely spilling off a few more syllables in response before he angles his wrist deeper to push down even harder. Making your entire body shudder, “What’s that? Yeahh, s’what I thought.”
You were so tight around him that Gojo’s forcing himself to bite his driveling bottom lip to hold back countless embarrassing whimpers. Because you were clinging onto him like gum, tugging his fingers back into your boiling hot depths every time he’s reeling back.
And the problem with Gojo Satoru was that he couldn’t decide.
He wanted you. And he wanted it all.
Couldn’t stop from alternating between scissoring his dexterous fingers into every ridge and crevice of your goopy cunt, and making out with you like he was parched. Lolling his tongue like he was drunk- all over your swooping slit and rubbing in tiny hearts on top of your hooded clit.
“Need you. Need you s-shoooo fuuuckin’ badly.” He couldn’t even speak properly at this point. You’re flinching as a third finger slimily squirms inside your pussy. “Want it all.”
So fucking sloppy in ways you’ve never seem him.
Your dewdrops of slick coat the outside of his mouth and stick in delicate strings, growing thicker and thicker by the minute as he once more strikes your magical spot and makes your toes curl. Gasping, “Yeah- yeah, fuck. Take it, take it ngh- all, Satoru—”
You think you’re gonna snap.
“Upsie daisy.”
Basically being manhandled to lean your entire weight on his shoulders. You don’t think you’re even holding yourself up at all this point. Feeling every flex and ripple of the hero’s deltoids underneath your fleshy mounds.
You’re so loud - and not just from your mouth.
“Hell yeah. Talk t’me.” Juicy sloshes spring onto the edges of Gojo’s mouth after every gyration, practically devouring you. He narrows his lust-murked stare to your glistening hole, giggling - fucking giggling - at how your hips just can’t stay still. “She’s saying…ohhh she’s saying- saying she’s gonna be good f’me.”
You’re blinking down with dazed intrigue, watching with an empty head at the way that his motions only get faster. And faster.
Pupils sprinting allll the way to the back of your heavy lids, “Close. Think- think m’so close, Toru.”
“Ya think?” He muses, drawing a bold stripe up your bruised and battered g-spot. One so hard that it has the corners of your lips flooding with a bubbling torrent of saliva, it has your eyes shuttering- “Oh, girl– I know. You’re cummin’ already, sweetheart.”
Shit- you were? You were.
Head spinning, throat raw.
And you didn’t even realize it with just how fucked-out you were on his long, lecherous tongue. Rendering your head permanently dizzy with those vulgar patterns he was drawing with it, both inside and out.
Your goopy walls tingle with the force of your high, ears popping with the pressure of those startling peaks after peaks. Ones that Gojo drags out gladly.
“Cumming from the hah- the great Gojo Satoru, huh?” He’s groaning, tonality husked with a shiver of something predatory. Unstable. Needy. Smashing away over and over and over on your most tender spots, buzzing. “Cumming all over my mouth. Always was meant for this- meant for me.”
If you thought that the squelches from before were blasphemous, then you surely weren’t ready for the slurps that follow now.
So loud.
Slithering the curling tip of his tongue to slap down on your quivering entrance, he’s pounding your hole dually with a mean mouth and even meaner fingers. Merciless.
You’re cumming and cumming and he’s stringing you along with every explosive ram and suck. Tired fingers pulling out of your hole with a wet plop! and lurching down to squeeze his achingly hard cock. Grinding the fat of his palm over n’ over across his length-
“S-soooo sensitive—” You’re sobbing out, eyes leaking hot tears once the crescendo of your orgasm pulls taut, powerful tingles rushing from where Gojo was latching his neat teeth onto your clit and biting.
And not even wringing your fingers to scratch his scalp, not even draaaagging Gojo by his sweat-matted hair could get him to part.
He wasn’t done yet. No.
His chin hits the very back of your cunt as he targets your pussy with yet another viscous few wads of spittle. Scattering it all over your sloppy hole when he’d drunk up all your sweet sap and there wasn’t enough. “Wanna taste more o-of you. S’fuckin’ sweet, wanna taste more.”
Because to him it would never be enough.
Not even when you’d finally let your toes uncurl, not even when your cracked whimpers were turning hushed. Bated.
Not even when he finally breaks his kiss between your legs with one last looooong slurp. Well, multiple. Gojo simply kept parting and coming back every few seconds with the most vulgar kisses because it hurt him to leave the very same pussy he’s been dreaming of since the day he first met you.
“Fuck. Fuck.” Gojo seethes out through rough pants. The soppy thwack! of wiry ribbons of drool from both sets of lips smacking him in the face. It lacquers all over his prettily flushed face and makes a mess.
Yet, you think he’s never looked prettier.
And the only thing messier was that smile he was giving you - dopey, and crazed. With beads of syrupy slick hanging off of his cerise lips, “You…you got my mask all dirty, sweetheart.”
“Dirty” was an understatement.
Gojo’s black mask was drenched, soaked through until every bit of his milky skin touching it smeared with a shimmery lamination of sap. You’d done such a number on him that when he hooks a thumb underneath, it lets out the most sinful squelch!
“Hear that?” You’re watching, speechless, once he tugs it off haphazardly. Impatiently. Ethereal white locks splaying out and over like a halo, “That’s the sound of ya being eaten out reeeal good n’ proper.”
And when Nightwing takes his mask off, you have to blink.
Because you’d fully and completely thought that Gojo Satoru could never be prettier - but when he was like this? When you could finally see his face fully?
Shit, you’re feeling your heart hammer against your ribs with a painful ba-dump–! just by looking into his summer blue eyes. The cute blush painting his features even more evident, and you’re catching his nose crinkle.
You’re pushing back the stray twines of his bangs sticking onto his prespired forehead. A touch that makes him shiver, a touch that makes his hardened cock twitch in his supersuit. “Never put that on a-again, I swear.”
“Ate that pretty cunt out and you’ve hah- fallen f’me already, hm~?” He’s wriggling his pale brows, and the look in his eyes is so enchanted that it leaves you momentarily speechless.
If you’d fallen for Gojo now, then he had already fallen for you a long, long time ago.
You hand on his hair tightens, searing. Angling his handsomely pussydrunken face until he’s looking up at you, “And who was saying they’ve been hngh- dreaming of eating my ‘pretty cunt’ for ages now?”
“I…”
“Shut up.”
And when you tell him to shut up, he shuts up. For perhaps the first time in the twenty-something years he’s been terrorizing this Earth.
Oh, for just how famed Nightwing was for his reflexes, Gojo barely sees it coming when you’re pushing him onto the muggy floor and collapsing right on down with him. Feverish. Needy.
He was so fucking hard that you swear you could see the zig-zag of his inflated veins through that massive bulge. Through his clothes-
Seriously, you’re ripping through the tough latex-y fabric wrapping around his inner thighs with a smirk. If he got to rip your supersuit then you should only return the favor.
You can’t help yourself, the very tip of your mushy tongue drips with a few pearls of saliva with just how badly you wanted him in your mouth. You’d seen the way that Gojo was huffing and grinding his cock as much as he could when he was filthily making out with your cunt.
Judging by the way he was jolting and moaning at your every touch, you were surprised he didn’t cum just from-
Oh.
He did.
And from the startled look of awe on Gojo’s face, he didn’t realize he had, either.
“Oh?” You’re skimming the fat plane of your thumb over his leaky orifice right in the middle, bawling out thick ropes of creamy white which slipped n’ slid allll down your wrist in generous heaps. “A-and you called me ‘cute’.”
Shit, but you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know where to look.
True to his word, Gojo was big - more than big, actually.
His cock was oh-so-pretty, standing red and proud at something near nine or ten inches. Oodles of buttery seed dripping down the side and ready for you to lick up.
Nestled above breeder balls, he’s lightning bolted with fat, rosé veins you couldn’t wait to feel scratch up your insides. A girthy circumference that made your poor knuckles ache to wrap around, so needy that every throb made your wrist jolt.
So…sexy.
“Satoru…”
And something in your tone of voice seems to jolt Gojo into overdrive.
He’s letting his meaty thighs crack open, displaying you with the attractive ripples of muscle. “C’mon, sweetheart-” A large hand softly cups the back of your unsteady head, “-clean up this- this mess you made.”
If this was any other time, you might’ve snapped back something about it being the mess he made himself. If this was any other time, you might’ve teased him for the teary cracks shattering his words.
But right now, you were striking the bullseye of Gojo’s round, coral pink divot with a hefty dump of saliva. Thumbing it right over his weeping middle and lazing your tongue tenderly all down the grooves of his veins.
You could feel him throb and buck underneath you, so turned on that you could practically taste it.
“Gods. Fuck. Fuck, girl-” He’s spitting out through lowered lashes, watching your tongue flop out to lap ‘round and ‘round his mushroomy tip like your favorite lolly. “-like that. Just like that.”
Gojo tucks a thumb underneath the curve of your chin, prying your maw to fall open just enough so that he can tap-tap-tap his blushing, thick head on your tongue. So that he can spurt out a few more gumdrops of seed and watch them glisten all the way to your throat.
He’s watching you with an open mouth, “Oh yeah. Oh yeah, my girl. Now you’re gonna hah- take all of me, right?”
Your pussy twitches with interest at his words — “my girl.” And the only thing you can think to do is let your digits sift underneath his tender slit, grinning. “Make me.”
It’s all the confirmation that Gojo needs to lurch open your slobbering mouth even further and plunge his veiny cock into you. Hissing at the way your tongue drags underneath his sinking shaft, he burns red to the tips of his ears.
“N-now now, play nice and say ‘ahhh’—” Your mouth was so hot. And it was working so many wonders on his fat cock that it was forcing him to gasp out tiny sobs. “Take me- fucking- fucking take me or god help me-”
He didn’t even know what he was saying.
Never breaking sultry eye contact, Gojo’s swabbing his cum around your plumped lips like a whitish lipstain. Fucking up feverishly, his trickling tip hits the very bottom of your throat and stays there-
“Ya like that?” He’s snarling out, perfect teeth pulled back on full display. You’re moaning into his tufted, snowy-white pubes at the sight of his glinting canines. “‘Course you do, course you do. F-fuck don’t know how many ngh- time I-I’ve imagined this. All because of you, nasty girl-”
Without warning, he’s pinching your nose together and you whine in answer. Crescents of your nails clawing down red, red lines all over his toned abs, “Alright alright- ngh- mostly because of you.”
He lets go, finally. Snickering at the steady tears that fall down your cute face.
Fighting against his flapping lids to watch the way you’re bobbing your head in a primal cadence now. Your nose brushing up against his heated skin every time. A fat few rivers of drool find themselves glazing your lips, your chin, Gojo’s shifting pelvis in a puddle.
He was so hot and weighty inside, and your jaw was starting to ache just from the sheer bulky fatness. Your cunt leaking - bawling - at the way his ballooned-up veins rub against the roof of your mouth up n’ down.
“You and that damn suit n’ those damn eyes a-and that-” He bucks up, up, up, core tensing sexily each time. Smashing the rounded curve of his tight balls against your chin. “-damn mouth. Now mine, all mine oh—”
Your fingers just barely graze over Gojo’s plump sack, making his precious, pinkish skin wrinkle. Making him gasp- “O-oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck-” His head snaps upwards, eyes rolling to the very backs of his head. “-c’mere. C’mere.”
Maybe it’s because of the remaining aftereffects of your mind-shattering orgasm, maybe it’s because you wanted him so bad you couldn’t think; but you’re so pliable in Gojo’s big, strong arms.
He’s bending a few degrees to scoop you up in a mess of boneless limbs, all in one go. Sitting you all pretty and struggling to balance on his slender hips– his v-shape was mouth-watering.
And your thighs fit so perfectly snugly on either side, glissading your pussylips up and down on his cylindrical shaft. You’re riding all along his bumpy veins, head bobbing at every probing spiral that pokes past your folds.
“Fuck me.” Gojo whispers against your throat. Reaching over languidly to rip even more of his supersuit for you, all the way down his inner thighs, his chest, everywhere. For you to ruin. “Fuh-fuck me.”
Whining, “Give it- give it t’me, Toru–”
He blushes.
You didn’t know who was yearning for it more.
Gojo repeatedly spanks your slippery hole with the very rounded crown of his cockhead, sandwiching himself between your bloated lips. And the sight makes him grin, the sight makes him twitch- “Open. Open wiiiide, sweetheart. Tight fuckin’ thing.”
Your knobbly knees ricket as you splay them out shamelessly, “‘Nough teasing. Want it- a-and I want it now.”
Bratty girl.
Though, he always has loved that side of you.
And it’s exactly what makes Gojo depart his hips off of the ground in a sudden rut and fill you up to your brim. Just the plump circle of his tip mazing past your entrance enough to render you stupidly speechless.
You swear you hear him bludgeon just the few inches of his head into your channel with a wet plop! Before your ears ring with something even louder…even wetter.
“Fucking- shit shit shit-” You’re almost letting your mouth sing with a whimper once his gorgeous eyes shutter closed, a cute pout smearing over your face. Gojo’s shifting, he’s restless, he’s planting his feet firmly flat on the floor and bucking wildly. Through clenched teeth, “This is- all- your- fault.”
Suddenly, you’re feeling something warm and thick soaking through your walls. Slathering ribbons of liquid sloshing around your wet inners and mixing with the waves of your aroused slick.
Did he just…? Just from putting it inside?
And, really, you felt so heavenly inside - what was a man to do?
Your gooey walls molding around his length like molten gold, it was driving Gojo crazy until all he could do was wrap his arms around the small of your back as if you were his lifeline. Panting out cloudy breaths against your face, he stares deeply into your eyes and cums-
Your eyes flap open alertly, “T-Toru– did you just-”
“Shut up.” He’s huffing, gnawing on his wobbly lower lip like chewing gum. To shut you up, he’s shoving your face between the plummy cushions of his pecs. Grunting when your tongue comes out to suck his rose pink nipples. “I’m just- I’m- ngh–”
Just fucking his globular wads of seed until you were overspilling, is what. Pumping the bottom of your pussy so full that you’re feeling him smear sticky streaks down your cervix, the gluey-texture making your back arch for more more more-
“Can’t help that this p-pussy is so fuck- filthy.” He’s trawling out syllables from the back of his hoarse throat, a thin line of saliva leaking from one end of that fucked-out grin. Eyeing the plapping of his cum pouring in bucketloads out of you and onto his skin, “That you’re so…”
Can’t help that he’s been dreaming of this since forever.
Gojo didn’t have to say a word, because the massive puddle formulating from between your icing-topped folds was chatty enough. Really chatty, in fact, that the man finds himself nodding away blearily with every shrill squelch! from down below.
Humming, “Mhm— real t-talkative, aren’t you, pretty girl?” His pants puncture with a few breathless titters, watery gaze flickering between your sweaty face and where he was disappearing. Depraved. “Nicer than her, too.”
Lips falling into a partially-offended, partially-delirious oh! your brows furrow, “S-so mean. Don’t make me- ngh- don’t make me g-get off, Satoru.”
“Get off, huuuuh?” He’s drawling, hands pushing you down even further along his blushing red cock. You were so insistent and fiery, it made him so much fucking harder. And it was cute, the way you’re flinching when his tip throbs even fatter. “If you wanna ngh- tap- tap out, jus’ say so, my girl.”
“Never.”
“Never?”
Rolling those beautiful eyes of yours, “You’d tap out first.”
Fuck yeahhhhh, he was shifting his hips just a little to make you feel how much girthier you were making him. The clingy sides of your walls snatching on the way his crownhead pulls taut, stretching your innards to the very max. “No. You.”
He doesn’t know if you even realize just how much more damp you’re getting. A syrupy wet patch already formed and growing on his v-line, dribbling down to his twitchy balls. “Scared, Nightwing?”
“I’m not even trying, sweetheart.”
And with that said, only now do you realize just how true his words are.
Two impressive hands interlace on the crown of your sticky scalp, pushing you- bullying you down like some glorified ragdoll.
Your thighs twitch as if you were unsure whether to clench or spread. You can feel Gojo’s sweltering hot cock squeezing and squeezing his fully proud length inside of you - you didn’t even realize that he hadn’t bottomed out yet because he was simply so big.
But when he did finally fit all the way?
God, it felt like he was drilling his split-ended tip right into your lungs.
“There we go- thereeee we go.” Gojo breathes out thickly, and it felt like something leaden in his tummy was finally unraveling after all this time. Finally stuffed inside your pussy. “Knew you could t-take me- heh. S’biiig, isn’t it?”
Really big.
And every shallow bounce of yours made your pulse burst near your throat, stars sparking behind your burdensome eyelids when he pinpricks tiny speckles of pre on your most favorite spots.
“Yeah yeah- ride me.” He grapples at your scalp and pulls. “Fuckin’ ride me. S’all yours n’ I wanna see you ngh- milk it.”
“Gods- ohhhh gods.” You’re shrilling out in a strained pitch when he jerks upwards and clashes into your g-spot, your nails claw ragged lines on the carpet as if you’d just been thrown to the wolves. Stupid now. Hips jerking away from his tantalizing pace-
“No running.” Gojo spits, pained. One hand curling around your throat and dragging you down to smack the backs of your thighs against his weighty balls, the other cupping your face delicately. His long, textured tongue laps up the salty pearls of your tears with looooud slurps. “Wh-where the ngh- fuck do you think you’re going?”
You didn’t even have an answer because every possible one was being fucked out of you. Brutally.
One sharp jab. Two. Three into your tender alcoves and you feel like collapsing, your front melting into his toned one, drool spilling out in spit-loads.
It’s all you can do to gyrate your waist back and forth in sloppy circles to meet his pace. Looong figure eights that made Gojo’s thighs shudder, and your clit scratch his creamy happy trail. There were so many thorough inches being fed into your cunt, probing deeply. Over and over and over-
And no matter how full you were he’d keep rutting and rutting. Like he couldn’t stop. Rotund head sagging down your cervix to leave streaks of pre and he was still pushing.
Gojo bores up at you with glazed eyes, saliva-glistening lips parted ever-so-slightly while he pounded up into you as if in a daze.
You’re swearing his dilated pupils have formed into hearts- “Mmmm– love you, my girl.” He carries out a tender kiss on your forehead, and a rough squeeze on your throat. Jostling your lolling head back and forth ever-so-slightly, to dab his digits in a seeping puddle of slick and push past your lips. “Love fucking you. Being haaaaa– fucked by you…”
It’s not often that anyone can catch Gojo Satoru off guard.
But you’re not just “anyone.”
With your honed expertise, all it takes is one jackhammered thud! into the back of your pussy - two - before you’re flipping your ravenously glissading bodies over.
“Then f-fuck me properly, Toru.”
Maybe he heard your words through the static-y buzzing in his head, maybe he didn’t. Either way your tone makes something inside him twitch, full-bodied.
And you don’t think Gojo even registers it beyond a stuttered ohhh–! at first, you don’t think he even realizes the way he’s immediately sprawling you out flat on your back and bending you into a rude mating press.
Still not slowing down. Still not faltering.
Ah, you don’t know if you’re a genius or just plain stupid. Because you still manage to yelp, “S’that- s’that it?”
As if on primal instinct, he’s letting out a growl near your mouth. “Hah- haaah– Y’know…I-I’m reeeeal flexible, my girl.” Your calves burn with exertion once he throws them unceremoniously over his shoulders, core tensing in a way you can’t help but ogle. “Real flexible.”
At first you didn’t understand why he was telling you this. At first.
Before Gojo drags his large feet up, up, up until he’s planting them where you can see - sweaty thighs lugging forwards where he’s bending you in half and then some.
It was so cute how pliable you were underneath him, manhandled to every whim and want and need-
This brand-spanking new angle was everything.
Thrashing into your springy cervix - hard. Stretching out deeply-seated sweet spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. It makes you feel so fucking filthy at the sting of his papping balls bruising your ass like never before.
And his tip is so greedy, feeling the swashing splash of his own seed dripping all over your walls and still bursting to erupt with more. He could tell he was close, aligning himself to crash into his favorite target of your g-spot.
“Fuck–” Your mindless legs threaten to close - not that he would ever let them. “So much. Fuck me, p-please.”
“What was that?”
“Please…”
“What was that?”
“Please!”
Gojo’s hunched over, seethingly red in the face. Ivory bangs half-way covering his intensely half-lidded stare, stray spatters of perspiration hit your chest like bullets.
“Gonna ngh- fuck you properly.” He spits, hands ghosting over your tummy - namely that globed bulge he was fucking into you. A mere nudge of it with his thumb leaves Gojo’s breath leaving his lungs in a sizzling woosh! Sculptured chest vibrating, “Gonna breed you properly. Gonna…”
You’re flinching when fingers waft over your nubbed clit, the stark volts of electricity prompting your ass to hit back even rougher against his sharp pelvis.
“Want it, Toru.” Wobbly arms wrapping around his flushed neck to pull him in close. He looks at you lovingly, while he fucks you like he hates you. “W-want you to ngh- breed me.”
And that does it - for the both of you.
Gojo Satoru’s breath hitches with a cry, balls achingly tight. Needy. “Gonna make you m-mine.”
Running headfirst into your highs, it hits you like a tidal wave. You don’t know where you’re seeing white from; the flurries of stars speckling your vision, or from the torrents of cum Gojo pours out past your sloppy entrance.
“Your p-pussy–!” Gojo bursts, drilling into you as if he was crazed. Fat tip swirling around your pretty insides with decorative ribbons of pure white, his cum seeps into you thickly and you swear you can feel him well up the door to your womb. “O-ohhhh your pussy your pussy your- p-pussy, takin’ me so well.”
“Fuck me-” You tug on his pink lips with your teeth and it makes Gojo empty out another few webbed streaks of sap into the bottom of your pussy with a thud! Brows furrowing, “Deeper.” Even though he was so deep you think you might burst. “Harder.” So hard you felt raw. “More.”
You were already overspilling, the throes of your burning hot orgasm just barely letting you register the splat-splat-splat of his cum pumping in n’ out of you.
Two of his slender fingers urgently scoop those few escaping globs back through your pussylips, Gojo’s girth so wide that he doesn’t even have to try to plug you full and tight.
“A-all safe and sound.” He’s patting at the cumflated outline on your tummy, cylindrical and round. Your walls were so plump and tight with him that just the simplest dig had you squealing. “A-all…”
And Gojo looked like he could purr if he could.
All fucked out and satisfied, the pussydrunken grin on his face seemed permanent - and so was that tender glint in his eye. Peeking up at you through long lashes, he leans his head over to listen to your juddering heartbeat, “All mine.”
Your tummy lurches, and you find yourself smiling before you can stop. But it’s not like you wanted to stop.
In fact, you didn’t want to stop at all.
“That last one’s a tie.” Your voice scratches the favorite crevices of Gojo’s brain; so mushy and melted that it takes a long while before his lips drop into an understanding oh! You sweetly peck his lips, “Rematch, Nightwing?”
Fuck.
His poor, overworked cock twitches.
Fuck.
And of course, it was a rematch with the two of you.
Of course, the one rematch turned into two. Into three. Into four. Into- you’d lost count after five, and you were sure right now that you couldn’t even do any maths past that.
After breaking Naoya Zenin’s loveseats, after splitting his desk literally in half. Eventually, you’d either forgotten about the man himself and your fate, or you just didn’t care. You were so fucked dumb that all you can cry is a broken, “Sa-to–ru!”
Because if there was one thing that Batman taught in his rigorous training scheme, it was stamina.
Gojo was taking you from behind right now- well, that was being generous.
He was slumped down over you until his abs were liquefying down your arched spine, head buried deep into the clammy crook of your neck. Swirling his sensitive cock all around your tenderized insides, thighs trembling where he was pinning the both of you down onto the floor. Too sloppy and fucked to even try anywhere else.
“M’here—” Gojo drawls out, heavy tongue stumbling over the sounds. He pats the cute tummy bulge that he’s responsible for first, and then your gushing pussy. Pulling you to him, he really was acrobatic, “M’here. Toru’s h-here, my sweetheart.”
Fuck- those last two words make him jetstream out a sweltering few beads of seed. He couldn’t even cum properly anymore.
Driving into you until every voluminous mass in his body was now packed intensely between your snug walls, he shifts inside of you with a sloooow gyration and feels the knotted mess he’s made.
“My sweetheart–” Gojo’s biceps bulge where he’s shoving your head into the soft carpet, into the pond of saliva that just won’t stop leaking from your parted mouth. His words depart in a cracked plea, “My girl.”
“Y-yours.”
Maybe you’re cumming, maybe you’re not - you don’t even know, at this point.
Half-lucidly aware of the faint tingles shooting up your spine, and making your temples throb. Gojo himself feels out of control, hips reeling back, back, back to slam into your jiggling ass.
He’s pawing himself a rough handful of your fleshy mounds once he throws his head back and lets his aching shaft jolt. Straight from his drenched base, all the way to his overstimulated tip- exhausting out one bead of pre. Two.
Before Gojo cums dry.
“O-oh.” His teeth snag near your pulse, wet splatters of tears soaking your skin. Something animalistic twinging at the back of his cottony mind at the way you literally milked him until he was dry. Despite himself, he laughs. High-pitched. Crazed. “S’a- tie- s’a tie, I went e-easy on you…”
Somehow, you’re managing a grin. “My hero~”
And Gojo was just about to open his mouth - maybe to counter back something nonsensical, maybe to ask for a rematch over n’ over until he passes out.
But what happens instead is that overly familiar metallic gate explodes open.
You have to blink away the clingy fog in your eyes in alarm, and you’re embarrassed to admit that it took longer than you thought. Dammit, he really did win that last round- ah, rematch.
Still stunned, you can barely even dredge up some semblance of dignity as a towering man in a red helmet and skin-tight black suit walks in. Past his sexy biker vest, and those muscles upon chiseled muscles, you think you see- yeah, it really is. A red Batman logo.
Red Hood.
A low snicker sounds from underneath his mask, swiftly being taken off to reveal a man so pretty that you feel your jaw slacken.
He runs a hand through silky, waist-length black hair, amethyst eyes glinting with amusement and something…more as he takes in the sight. Long lashes fluttering, he lets go of a specialized machine gun you assume was used to break down your cage. “Yo, Satoru.”
“Suguru.” Gojo gruffs out in a condensed gasp, though he makes no move to stop. None at all. Still balls-deep, and rubbing his tip down your spongy cervix. “Wh-what- fuuuck, don’t squeeze like that, my girl- took ya so ngh- long?”
Red Hood- Suguru, waves his other hand airily, only then do you see the knife clutched in it. The extremely…bloodied knife. “Ah, y’know~ Had to clean up some messes. Toji wanted revenge on the Zenins, the usual family drama.” Eyes flashing, “He’ll be up once he’s done to ah…join us here.”
Oh god, was the entire Bat Family here? You get the distinct feeling that this was not just “usual family drama.”
But you can’t say a word when the other man bores his piercing gaze onto you next. Tone smooth and syrupy, “So…Prowler, I’m assuming, by the ripped up costume?”
You feel your skin heat. “The one and only.”
“Geto Suguru, gorgeous.” He pulls out a tiny spherical gadget that looked exactly like the one Gojo had been toying with hours- days? ago. “I already know your name, Toji and I heard it over and over. Which, by the way, you should remind that idiot Satoru to turn his microphone off.”
Ah, that explains a lot. And wait- it was on this whole time?
Shit.
While Gojo only huffs out a pant of laughter, planting yet another deep jackhammer into you, you feel the apologies bubble to your lips. That is, until-
“Unless you want someone to feel…” Geto licks his lips slooowly, bangs swooning over his sleazy gaze. You watch with widened eyes as a hand falls to his bulky belt, carnally. “-left out.”
A/N. Mhm what happens when ya let a girl listen to Nightcrawler.
mentions: modern au where bkg is an underground boxer, alcohol use, female bamf reader, aged up chars ofc, descriptions of fighting, suggestive at one part you’ll know it when you read it lol
a/n: this is a repost bc i'd deleted the og post one night when i was nitpicking it. i hadn't been too happy with the writing it was a moment of weakness. but! i've revised it and made some minor edits so here it is again! might do a part 2 if y'all want but idk
✧˖° and there you stood in the fighting ring, little civilian you, staring down the underground’s top boxer—an intimidating man by the name ‘dynamight’ with a glare that pierced right through you—as the crowd roared in excitement for the next match with him. your match.
Spending your Saturday night chasing after your near blackout-drunk friends was honestly not what you’d imagined you’d be doing.
At first you’d all planned to meet up at a nice restaurant-slash-bar in the heart of Musutafu for dinner and some catching up. It was relaxing after a hard week at work and seeing the familiar faces of your friends made everything feel significantly better. Lots of hugs and kisses were exchanged before you all split a few meals and went through a couple of the margaritas on the back of the menu to start the night off. You’d already promised yourself that you wouldn’t let yourself get too drunk, so you only had a few drinks to get a nice buzz going, though you couldn’t say the same for your friends. The plan was to then head over to a karaoke bar down the block for a few hours of off-key singing before turning in for the rather satisfying night.
Only, one of your friends had discovered that the restaurant had an unlimited shot option for birthday groups with a bill over a certain amount of yen. You’d already satisfied the yen requirement, so your friend had the bright idea to pretend it was her birthday just to get onto that deal. Admittedly, you already knew beforehand that both your friends could get pretty lackadaisical when it came to monitoring their alcohol consumption. You kept a close eye on them, but you couldn’t really find it in you to cut them off early when they looked like they were having so much fun. You knew they needed the stress relief and it was fun watching them giggle to themselves as they got increasingly drunker.
You didn’t really drink too much in comparison, knowing that you would have to be the responsible one for the night if you all wanted to get home in one piece. You limited yourself to a couple and then settled on slowly drinking a tall glass of cold water as your friends tossed back shot after shot. Eventually, though, after two drinking games and a small army of glasses crowding the table, you called for the bill and cut your friends off, amusedly watching as they slumped over the table and mumbled tiredly to each other.
You forced both of them to drink a few glasses of water and waited for them to get a bit sober before you decided it was time to leave. It was certainly a task getting them to stand up from the table and stumble out the restaurant door, but you managed. It was pretty dark outside, with it being so late in the evening, and the air was slightly chilly. You busied yourself with zipping up your friends’ jackets so they wouldn’t get too cold, smiling slightly when they mumbled drunken ‘I love you’s to you. You kept an eye on them as you pulled out your phone with the intention to call a cab—there was no way you’d be able to take them to the karaoke bar with how sloshed they were—when one of your friends suddenly let out a yell.
“What?! What is it?” you worriedly rushed out as you whipped your head around to look at her leaning heavily against the brick wall of the ice cream shop next to the restaurant. She was staring with wide eyes down at her phone, and you wondered how she was able to make anything out on the screen with how bright it was.
“Oh my god!!” she just shrieked. She looked around wildly until her eyes latched onto the street sign on the corner of the block. She squinted at it, then took a shaky step towards it that had you shuffling closer to her, just in case. “We gotta— We gotta go!!”
“Go where?” your other friend mumbled from their position sitting on the sidewalk. They were swaying back and forth slightly, and you eyed them to make sure they weren’t getting nauseous or anything. “‘M tired.”
“Wuh— The— The fuckin’”—your friend waved her phone around—“The fuckin’ guy, uh, Dyna— Dynamight guy. He’s fightin’ tonight!!”
“The who?” you asked confusedly, then raised your eyebrows when your other friend let out a loud gasp and promptly hoisted themself up from the concrete ground.
“T’night?!” they nearly yelled as well, stumbling around shakily on their feet before they latched onto your friend still holding her phone. They tried peering down at her phone, but only ended up squinting at it. “Where?!”
“T— Tuh— Two uhh, two blocks, umm that—no, um—that way”—she spun around in a little circle, then pointed an unsteady finger in a direction down the street—“We— we have t’go!!”
“We gots— we gotta go, right now,” your other friend eloquently agreed with a serious look on their face. You watched them both warily, lowering your own phone slightly. What the fuck were they talking about?
“Uh, guys,” you started, “I really think I should get you both hom—” But before you could finish your sentence, your friends immediately fucking bolted down the street, running as fast as their sailor’s legs would let them. You gaped at them for a split second and watched them yell at each other as they stumbled away from you. Then you ran after them, shouting at them to stop before they got seriously hurt.
They didn’t listen to you at all, using each other for balance as they made a few shaky turns and went down a few dark alleys. It wasn’t hard to catch up to them and keep pace, though it was certainly difficult to get them to listen to you.
“Guys, come on!” you said exasperatedly, blindly following them around until they stopped at some door at the side of a large building. Your friend knocked on it and shuffled around in her purse until she pulled out a few crumpled notes. You eyed the door when a slot opened in it and your friend shoved the money through. “What are we even doing here?”
“Y’never… y’never heard of Dyna— Dynamight?” your other friend asked you, slightly stumbling over their words still. When you shook your head, they gasped. “Never?! He’s a— he’s a box’r. Super… super strong.” They flexed their arms to demonstrate their point.
“And hot,” your friend added, then smiled widely when the door opened. She grabbed at your wrist and tugged you through the door with her, your other friend following close behind as you’d grabbed onto their wrist in return. “He’s the— the best underground fighter out there right… right now.” It was pretty dark inside, and you staggered after your friend who looked like she knew the area pretty well, despite her occasional stumble. She led the two of you down a hall, some stairs, and another hall. Already you could hear what sounded like loud yelling and chanting coming from a door a small distance away.
Your friend didn’t linger or hesitate at all, and before you knew what was happening, she had pushed the door open and dragged you into a rather large crowd in what looked like an underground arena. You could only blink in astonishment at the size of the place, fluorescent lights shining brightly from the ceiling that was such a large contrast from the darkness of the hallways you’d wandered through to get here. There was the smell of sweat in the air that came with such a large crowd jammed into a room and you wrinkled your nose a bit as you stared around curiously at the sea of people yelling and cheering.
Though, what really caught your attention was the giant boxing ring in the center of the arena that was elevated in the air. Or rather, it was the two men on top of it that did. One of them was a rather large man with a sharp, beak-like nose and brown hair, his chest bare as he threw powerful punch after punch. You were fascinated by the sheer size of his build, wondering how long it took him to get to that level of pure strength. You eyed the scowl on his face for a moment, then shifted your gaze to the other man.
He was a bit smaller than the guy he was fighting, though certainly just as strong-looking. Crimson eyes sharply focused on his opponent, ash-blond hair bouncing around as he swiftly ducked and weaved. He was definitely attractive, you could admit that, with a sharp jawline that looked like it could cut you with just the slightest touch and muscles that rippled along his shoulders and arms. You tried not to stare too hard at his bare torso, instead focusing on his hands that were wrapped with white bandages slightly stained in red. Your gaze lingered on the devilish smirk on his face, and you soon noticed that he was slowly cornering his opponent.
“Comin’ through!” your friend suddenly yelled as she pushed through people to get closer to the metal gate surrounding the ring. You were snapped away from your staring as you looked around at all the people she was shoving. “Move aside!!” You cringed and apologized hastily to the people around you, ducking your head down in slight embarrassment. Eventually, your friend managed to tug you both close enough to the gate that there were only a few rows of people separating you from it. You had to crane your neck a little to watch the match on it, though you found that you didn’t mind. All the loud yelling was getting a bit annoying though.
Your other friend leaned close to you, their body weight nearly sinking against your own. You could still smell the alcohol on their breath. “Thas him”—they pointed to the ash-blond—“Dynamight. The man.”
“Isn’t he dreamy,” your friend added, clasping her hands together. “He’s never… never lost a match.”
You let out a low whistle, your eyes drifting back to watch Dynamight. “He’s that good? Damn.”
Your friend nodded sagely. “Oh ye”—she turned to give you a surprisingly calculating look for her not-sober state—“though…. Though I think y’could take ‘im.” Her casual statement felt like a punch to the gut and you wheezed.
“Me?!” you choked out, then let out a pssht. “Girl, you know I’d get obliterated.” She only shrugged at you, though you gave her a look and gestured pointedly at the match. Dynamight was using the ropes along the perimeter of the ring to propel his body towards his opponent, delivering a devastating blow to the chest that sent the beak-nosed man crashing to the floor. It felt like the entire room had shaken from the impact. You gave her another look.
“I bee… I believe in ya,” your other friend said cheerfully, giving you a pat on the shoulder. You rolled your eyes at them, then turned back to look at the match. By now, a lot of people were starting to chant Dynamight’s name as he geared up for what seemed to be his final move.
“OOOH!!!” your friend squealed loudly, jumping around in her spot. “I love this part!!”
“Howit-zer!! Im-pact!!” your other friend cheered, and you noticed a lot of people were chanting it as well, a chorus that echoed around the stuffy room. You looked on curiously as Dynamight grinned in a way that sent a shiver scuttling down your spine. His opponent was trying to pick himself off the floor from the last blow, but Dynamight didn’t give him the time to recover. He launched himself at one of the large poles standing at the corners of the rectangular-shaped ring, using his momentum and his powerful legs to push himself off of it and up into the air. There was a moment where he seemed to nearly float above the ring, the lights from above casting his smirking face in shadows. The shouting got louder as Dynamight twisted in the air and promptly slammed down on the upper back of his opponent, sending him crashing back down to the floor, out cold.
“K.O!” the referee shouted as he blew his whistle. The arena practically erupted in loud cheers, enough that your ears rang slightly from the volume. Your friends whooped and jumped up and down, watching as Dynamight grinned sharply and threw a victorious fist in the air.
“Is that even legal?!” you shouted at your friends, wondering if that was a move that could be done in boxing. You didn’t think so, but well, it was an underground ring for a reason, you guessed.
“Who cares!!” they both shouted back, too wrapped up in the high that came after watching a match.
“Give it up for Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight everybody!!” a yellow-haired announcer yelled out gleefully through a wireless microphone as he clambered onto the ring to stand next to Dynamight. The crowd exploded in cheers again, and you watched as Dynamight ran a hand across his forehead and through his hair, his expression shifting into an impassive look. A few other people silently moved in the background to help get the unconscious beak-nosed man out of the arena and into medical care.
“Is that really his title?” you wheezed out quietly to your other friend, who gave a little giggle and nodded. What possessed him to think that was a good decision?
“Yeah, is'so lame,” they whispered. You bit back a smile and turned your attention back to the announcer once the cheering had died down once more.
“Another match finished in record time, eh? As expected for our Dynamight!” The announcer turned towards the ash-blond, a wide grin stretching across his face. “Anything you wanna say to your adoring fans, Mr. Murder God?”
Dynamight let out a scoff and leaned in closer to the microphone the announcer was holding up to his face. “I always win,” he rasped lowly, then moved back so he could cross his arms across his sweaty-looking chest. You tried not to stare too hard at his huge fucking pectorals. Seriously, what the hell kind of routine did he do to make them look like that?! You were kind of jealous.
“You sure do!” the announcer replied cheerfully. He turned to look out at the crowd, a mischievous look on his face as he pointed his thumb towards Dynamight. “I don’t think there’s anyone who can beat him. A shame, really.”
At that, a bunch of people started yelling out in the crowd. You looked around curiously as some of them—particularly the buffer-looking men—jeered that they could take Dynamight on, piece of cake. The announcer looked delighted at the responses and as for the ash-blond next to him… well…
“I could take ya fuckers down in my sleep!” Dynamight sneered back at the crowd, lifting one of his hands so he could give them a rude thumbs down. Your other friend snickered from beside you, and you turned to look at them questioningly.
“Whenev’r the matches for th’night finish early they… they always choose someone from the crowd to go up against hottie up there,” they explained to you and you let out an ohhh in understanding. “S’always entertaining, though they gotta— gotta sign a— a thingy. A uh, wustheword—”
“A waiver?” you supplied helpfully and they nodded rapidly.
“Yeah, that.”
“I’m guessing Dynamight always wins, huh?” you asked as you looked up at the ring to see Dynamight continuing to sneer down at the crowd. Your other friend gave you a “yep” and you both quieted down once the announcer started calling out to get everyone’s attention again. Though, once it’d gotten only slightly quieter, a loud voice started shouting out from next to you. A rather familiar, loud voice.
“AYO, my friend could take this bitch down easy-peasy!!” your friend yelled and you whipped your head so fast towards her that you swore your neck had cracked with the motion. She was waving her hands in the air and jumping up and down to get the announcer’s attention. To your horror, she succeeded and the announcer turned to look at her with a curious expression on his face. Your gut nearly bottomed out.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” you hissed out frantically as you grabbed her arm and forced her to stop moving so you could tug her out of view. She ignored you, and with strength that you hadn’t expected from her drunk ass, she pulled you towards her and used her free hand to point right at you. Your ears burned from the attention and you promptly shut your mouth once you noticed people were staring at the two of you. It was so quiet you could probably hear a pin drop—a feat in itself considering how large the room was.
“My friend!! Can take ‘im, anyday!!” your friend said with only a slight slur to her words. You tried to tug yourself out of her hold, but fuck, her grip was unrelenting. “I— I swear on it.”
“Yeah?” The announcer grinned and looked at Dynamight with a raised brow. Your gaze followed his and you nearly pissed yourself when you saw Dynamight’s crimson eyes were nailed right onto you. Oh fuck, this wasn’t good. It felt like he was roasting you alive with his stare. “Whaddya think dude? Think you can take her?”
Dynamight only scoffed and looked away from you. You were so fucked.
“Well, what’s your name, cutie?” the announcer asked, and it took you a moment to realize he was talking to you. Even if you wanted to answer him—which you didn’t—you couldn’t get your mouth to work at the moment. You felt like you were going to throw up and you didn’t even drink a lot earlier.
“I don’t—” you started in a strained voice only to have your friend cut you off to shout your name for you. You gave her a glare, your shoulders rising up to your ears as the announcer repeated your name and gestured out to the crowd wildly.
“What do we think, folks?!” he roared out and you could already hear people starting to shout and cheer again, the frenzy energy returning to the arena at the prospect of another fight. “Is this a match made in heaven?! Or hell?!!!”
“Hea-ven! Hea-ven! Hea-ven!” they chanted back and you felt the color drain from your face even as your friends eagerly shook you around and yelled your name excitedly in your ears.
“Let’s give it up for our new challenger everybody!! Get on up here girl!!!”
People started chanting your name, hands started pushing and tugging at you to get you closer to the gate. You tried to protest, but your voice was swallowed up in the crowd and you realized—with so many people expectantly looking at you—that there simply was no way for you to squirm your way out of this. You could feel the weight of their pressure fall onto your shoulders and you didn’t like it one bit.
“Hey there!” a voice suddenly caught your attention and you realized you were standing right by the metal gate. You looked up to see a pink-haired woman grinning at you from the other side of it. “Name’s Ashido Mina! I’mma need you to sign a few things before the match. Just jump right over”—she waved a manicured hand at the gate—“and follow me!”
You nodded stiffly at her and did as told, feeling like your movements were nearly robotic. You had half a mind to just book it to the exit, but you couldn’t—not with how crowded the arena was. And you were sure someone would stop you. It felt like there was a whole swarm of butterflies frenziedly moving around in your stomach. Was there anything you could do to get out of this? You glanced back at your friends, who had followed you to the gate and were clinging onto the metal bars on the opposite side as they grinned and gave you sloppy thumbs ups.
“You got this, girl!!” they both cheered, and the way they were fucking looking at you like you were the coolest person they’d ever met made you just want to crawl into a hole and wither away. Damn it.
You squared your shoulders and finally turned to follow Ashido around the ring. Only, it seemed like she had gotten impatient waiting for you to move, so she grabbed onto your arm and started tugging you in a direction. You stumbled slightly after her, not knowing what the fuck was going on as she started yapping rapidly into your ear. You could barely hear her over the cheering of the crowd.
“Oooh, this is so exciting!!” she nearly squealed. “It’s been ages since Dynamight has gone up against a pretty lady like yourself!!” Her words made something in your stomach sink in trepidation, and she looked at you with a large grin that was borderline mischievous.
“Ages?” You were ashamed to admit that your voice cracked on the word. You hoped she hadn’t noticed. You cleared your throat awkwardly.
“Yeah!! Normally it’s all those dumb buff guys who try to pick a fight, y’know?” She pointed a hand not-so-discreetly at some of the men who were close to the gate. They looked disappointed, though some were fixing you with sneers. You looked away, a frown tugging at your lips. It was so fucking obvious they thought you wouldn’t last a second in the ring and it kind of… made you a bit pissed. Were they underestimating you?
Ashido let out a pfft that drew your attention back to her, and you noticed she was rolling her eyes. “Ignore them. They’re all steroid junkies and it shows. They never learn no matter how many times Dynamight mops the floors with their asses.” She mumbled something about testosterone under her breath that got you to crack a small smile.
Ashido led you to a wooden bench near the opposite side of the ring that had a few bags piled on and around it. She shuffled around in one of them until she pulled out a manila folder and a glittery pen. She then handed them to you.
“Just sign these and you’re good to go!” she said cheerfully. You eyed the folder in your hands, then opened it to see a few leaves of paper.
“Is this really all I have to do?” you asked a bit faintly. You sat down heavily on an empty space on the bench and started pulling out the papers. They were waivers and medical documents detailing what would happen after the match in case you got severely hurt. You doubted it would get to that point, but it didn’t stop you from wondering if your insurance would cover it.
Ashido gave you a smirk. “This is an underground ring, babe, anything goes.”
“Uh huh,” you replied eloquently. You gripped the pen tightly in your hand as you stared down at the documents. God, were you really about to do this right now? Were you really about to let an entire arena pressure you into fighting their literal top fighter?? The one who looked like he could crush you between two of his fingers alone?! You swallowed heavily. It didn’t help that you thought he was attractive, too. If anything, it made you even more nervous.
“Hey”—a soft hand rested on your shoulder and you looked up to see Ashido giving you a sympathetic smile—“you know you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, right? We can always get someone else.”
You stared at her for a moment, biting on your bottom lip in thought. You weren’t obligated to fight this guy or anything. And yet… You knew there were just so many people who expected you to. You glanced back in the direction your friends were in and in doing so, your eyes caught onto the different expressions people in the crowd were wearing. Excited, encouraging, exhilarated…. But also arrogant, leering, and disbelieving. It made you tense your jaw and look back down at the papers before you started roughly penning in your signature in the required places.
“Thanks, but it’s okay,” you told Ashido as you scribbled away. You forced your nerves down, locking them up in a tight little box deep within yourself. “It’s just a spar anyways. Can’t be that bad.”
Ashido let out a little giggle that made you look up at her briefly. “You haven’t been here too often, have you?”
“Was it that obvious?” You gave her a weak smile. She smiled back and nodded.
“Yeah, haha, everyone here knows how these matches go by now. Don’t worry though”—she flapped a hand at you—“it’s not as extensive as his other matches since it’s with a civilian, so you’ll only be up there for like, two minutes and that’s it!”
“Cool”—you nodded and shoved the papers back in the folder so you could hand it back to her—“Do you think he’ll go easy on me?” You tried not to sound too hopeful.
“Pfft, no!” Ashido let out a loud laugh and gave you a pat on the head before taking the folder from you. “Dynamight doesn’t go easy on anybody. It shows how seriously he takes his matches, no matter who fights him.” She then leaned in closer to you, lowering her voice in a conspiring manner. “Though, you didn’t hear this from me, but he always starts his matches with a right hook.” She gave you a wink and leaned back so she could shove the folder back into the bag it came from.
“Good to know.” You gave her a smile—albeit a shaky one—and stood up from the bench. It seemed the motion had caught the attention of the announcer too, for he suddenly appeared at the edge of the ring, leaning against the rope as he peered down at you.
“Hey there cutie”—he gave you a little wink—“I’m Kaminari Denki, though you can call me anything you want~”
“Shut up Denki”—Ashido rolled her eyes—“This isn’t the time for your lame flirting.”
“Hey it’s not lame!” Kaminari protested, crossing his arms over the topmost rope. “It’s effective.”
Ashido turned to look at you with a raised eyebrow. You blinked at her then shook your head a little. “It’s not effective.”
She looked back at Denki and made a wide gesture. “See?”
“Whatever”—Kaminari pouted and waved a hand at you to grab your attention—“You ready to go? Mr. Murder God over there’s waiting for you.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, and you followed the direction to see Dynamight in the far right corner of the ring. The first thing you noticed were his crimson eyes—eyes that were trained sharply on you. It made you wonder just how long he’d been watching you for, assessing his next opponent. A rather buff-looking red-haired man was standing next to Dynamight in the ring, talking about something to him. Though, you didn’t think Dynamight was paying all too much attention with the way he was watching you. He was leaning against the pole sitting at the corner, one of his arms stretched over the ropes that extended from it as he drank from a black water bottle. There was a white towel around his neck that he also used to wipe some of the sweat from his face. Your jaw tensed slightly and you looked back at Kaminari.
“I guess so.” You looked down at your outfit. To say you hadn’t expected to be in a fighting match tonight was an understatement. You certainly hadn’t dressed for it. A nice blouse and a pair of jeans that made your legs look great decorated your person. You lifted your right leg up and kicked out a bit to test the leniency of your jeans. Well, it would definitely make moving around a bit tougher, but you could handle it. After all, you did just have to chase your drunk friends around. And you managed pretty well. “Wish I wasn’t dressed like this, though.”
“Eh, it’s fine”—Kaminari shrugged—“As long as you can move around, you’re good.”
Something tapped you on the shoulder and you turned around to see Ashido standing close to you with a roll of white bandages in her hands. “Let me wrap your hands up for you! Don’t want those pretty things to get messy, y’know?”
“Somehow I doubt they will.” You didn’t think you’d be able to land a single blow on Dynamight, honestly. Or maybe you were overestimating things. You sighed and held your right hand out to her. She made quick work out of wrapping it, moving from your wrist all the way to the first knuckles of your fingers. She neatly tucked the ends in and then did the same to your other hand. You admired her work. It made you feel kind of badass.
“Alright! You’re good to go!” She gave you a nod and a pat on the shoulder. You flexed your fingers a bit, then looked up and gave her a nod of your own accompanied by a small “thanks.”
“Hell yeah! Let’s get this show on the road!” Kaminari cheered. He bent down and extended a hand to help you climb up onto the ring. You grabbed it and allowed him to support most of your weight as you jumped up to sling a foot on top of the ring’s platform. It was pretty high up, so you scrambled for a bit until you managed to slide your body under the lowermost part of the roped perimeter. Kaminari helped you to your feet and you found yourself awkwardly shuffling around as the cheering of the crowd escalated in anticipation.
Oh boy, you thought to yourself as you looked around at the mix of eager and judgmental faces around you. This is really happening.
Kaminari called out your name and you looked over to see him gesturing to you to walk over to the center of the ring, where he and Dynamight were waiting. You noticed the red-haired man that’d been talking to Dynamight was making his way off of the platform. Though, before he ducked under the ropes, he caught your eye and gave you a bright grin with a thumbs up. It made you crack a small smile, though that didn’t last too long. You swallowed heavily and shuffled over until you were standing in front of Dynamight, separated by only a few feet of distance.
And man, was he intimidating.
Being so close to him allowed you to see just how much of a height difference there was between the two of you. His face was impassive and rather stoic as he stared down his nose at you and crossed his arms over his bare chest. Spiky ash-blond hair was ruffled over his face, and you wondered if the ends were sharp enough to poke your eye out. Not only was he aggravatingly taller than you, but he was also broader: the width of his shoulders alone were easily double your own. He was all coiled muscle and unreadable expressions and you’d never felt so fucking tiny before in your life.
“Right, you know the drill,” Kaminari spoke to the two of you without using his microphone. “Two minutes on the clock.” You glanced over at Dynamight to see he was wearing a fresh set of bandages around his hands instead of the stained ones he had on before. It was only slightly comforting. “You’re out if you get K.O.ed or tap out. And dude”—he looked over at Dynamight with an almost pleading look—“try not to mess up her face.”
“What the fuck is that supposed—“ you started indignantly as your eyes darted over to Kaminari, only to get abruptly cut off by a tch.
“No promises,” Dynamight scoffed, then cracked his neck in a swift motion that you blinked at. The deep rasp of his voice made a shiver scuttle down your spine. You tensed your jaw and clenched your hands into fists. You needed to focus now. There was no playing around here. You took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly to calm down the remnants of your nerves. You could do this.
Kaminari made a shooing motion with his hands that you realized was an indication for you and Dynamight to step a few feet farther from each other. Once you both got into your positions, a few meters away from each other, Kaminari switched on his microphone and started announcing the match.
“Aaaaalright folks! The final fight for the night! The moment you’ve all been waiting for!” he yelled out as he walked over to the edge of the ring. You bit at the inside of your cheek and relaxed your form, noticing that Dynamight had gotten into a fighting stance himself. “Our reigning champion Dynamight against this pretty lady over here! Who will be the victor?! Who will be the loser?! Place your bets everybody!”
If you listened close enough, you could almost hear your two friends loudly cheering for you. It made your lips twitch slightly.
Kaminari slipped through the ropes along the ring so that he could jump onto the floor, leaving you and Dynamight alone on the platform. “Two minutes are all they get! And we start in 3”—you bent your knees slightly—“2”—Dynamight’s eyes narrowed—“1! Start!”
Immediately, Dynamight lunged towards you with a powerful right hook, aiming directly for your face. You had just enough time to duck out of the way to the left, eyes wide with the adrenaline that suddenly pulsed through your brain and body. His eyes darted to the side to follow your motion before he swiftly changed directions and threw a harsh left jab. You dodged it again, your movements light. He was certainly fast, keeping you on your toes, but you were faster.
Part of you wished—as you ducked and weaved around blow after blow—that you’d watched more of his matches to get an idea of how he fought. You only had that snippet from the previous match to base your assumptions on. It was clear, though, that he had reflexes to match an Olympic athlete’s. You could tell he was putting his all into every single one of his hits—not only in terms of raw strength, but also in terms of how calculated he made them. Not one of them was out of place. He really wasn’t messing around. Perspiration beaded on your forehead at the thought of how much one of them would hurt if it came into contact with any part of your body.
You couldn’t tell how much time had gone by. You were stuck in this seemingly perpetual dance with Dynamight on the offensive and you on the defensive. You bent backwards into a flip to dodge another one of his uppercuts, then immediately slid to your right to avoid another fast jab from him. You had gotten into the groove of constant movement, since he was trying to catch you off guard after every one of your dodges. Your heart pounded loudly in your ears and the only thing you focused on was the man in front of you. Everything else, everyone else, blurred out into the background.
Dynamight snarled when you dodged another one of his lower attacks. It was obvious he was getting frustrated with the way you just kept moving swiftly out of the way. You were starting to read him a bit easier now that you’d both been fighting for a bit, though there were definitely instances where you dodged a move from him by the skin of your teeth. He glared and bared his teeth at you, the watermelon pink of his gums peeking from under his upper lip. If looks could kill, you would’ve been dead a long time ago.
“Y’can’t keep dodging forever!” he growled, throwing another punch at you before ducking low on the floor to sweep at your legs. “Fuckin’ fight me properly!” You simply bent backwards into a flip again, though a quick glance behind you let you know he was slowly cornering you by the ropes of the ring—just like he’d done with the last match. That was fine, you could deal with that.
“No thank you!” you replied breathlessly, heart palpitating as you crouched below a reverse punch and let your body slide to the left. Did he want you to throw your feeble punches at him? Well… you could if you really wanted. You suspected a match with hardly much retaliation on one end would get boring after a while. And honestly, not to toot your own horn or anything, but the match would pretty much be over if you did decide to go on the offensive. Well… maybe a little…
Toot toot!
But really, you couldn’t do that to the arena’s top fighter. You didn’t want to—especially considering what that would mean for you afterwards: additional attention, fame, and the possibility of his fans hating your guts for the rest of your life. Maybe you were overexaggerating, but you knew it wouldn’t be too far-fetched. That wasn’t what you wanted for your little life.
Though, if he really wanted you to do something, you supposed you could.
You waited for the opportune moment—though, considering he was getting more aggressive with his punches, it didn’t take that long—where he threw a strong forward jab at you. It wasn’t all too hard to twist your body to the right to avoid it, though this time instead of darting away, you reached out and tugged his wrist forward and down. His force and momentum should’ve been enough to cause him to fall flat on his face, but he only stumbled a few steps forward. It was enough. You took the chance to lunge towards his back in a football tackle, slamming your shoulder as hard as you could into him as you used your feet to push yourself off the floor.
Dynamight made an indignant sound as he went down. You felt the impact in your legs as you both crashed to the cool ground, and you found yourself scrambling into a sitting position on his back to hold him steady. His skin was a bit slippery from his sweat, and you were able to feel how hot he was temperature-wise with how close you were to him. You braced your right arm across his upper back to hold him down, and used your left hand to hold his head against the floor. His ash-blond hair was surprisingly soft nestled between your fingers—not at all able to poke your eyes out like you'd thought. You grunted as Dynamight struggled and bared his teeth at you as much as he could with his left cheek squished to the floor. Fuck, he was strong. It took everything you had to keep him on the ground, your legs squeezing around his torso.
All you had to do was hold him here until he tapped out, right?
“Give in,” you grunted out through gritted teeth. Your muscles strained to hold him still, sweat rolled down the back of your neck. His crimson eye that wasn’t smushed to the floor darted to look up at you, the pupil tiny and angry.
“Like hell!” he snarled, and before you could register what was happening, he relaxed his muscles and stopped struggling. You blinked in surprise, then let out a yelp when he abruptly twisted himself to the side and shoved you off his back. You toppled over clumsily and immediately started to roll away before he could trap you against the floor. You had a split second to look up and see him lunge for your figure, a furious scowl on his face. Just a split second to decide what you could do.
You rotated your body around, your back flat against the floor. And just as Dynamight was about to crush you under him, you quickly lifted your legs up and locked your thighs around his neck. You liked to think the move had caught him by surprise, but before you could relish in the expression on his face, you threw your legs to the side with all your might. You allowed your body to naturally follow the motion and lifted yourself up with the help of your arms until you found yourself sitting upright on top of Dynamight’s chest. His face was slowly turning red as you squeezed his head between your thighs.
Your chest heaved with air, your heart pounding in your ears as you stared down at him. His thick hands were trying to pry your thighs away from his neck, but you were unrelenting. You reached down to grasp his wrists between your significantly smaller hands and attempt to tug them away. He bared his teeth at you like he was a ferocious dog, nearly foaming at the mouth.
“Give in,” you heaved out again. You may have had the upper hand, but this asshole was insanely tough to keep in one place.
“Fuck you,” he strangled out. Your mouth twisted, a comment about how he was in no position to do that lingering on your tongue. But before you could get snarky with him, he let out a mix of a yell and a grunt and did a fucking sit up. You had no idea how he was able to do that while you were sitting on his chest, squeezing the shit out of his head, but it made you lose your balance. You fell backwards onto his legs, a choked sound escaping your lips. Your eyes snapped up to his face as he leaned forward to squish you—
“AAAAAND TIME!!!”
You promptly released him, unlocking your legs from around his neck as you pushed yourself into a backwards roll off his legs. You puffed out a deep breath of air and stood up, blinking as you finally registered the loud cheers and screams of the crowd around you. With how focused you’d been on the match, you’d almost forgotten you were in a boxing ring. You flinched slightly when someone wrapped an arm around your shoulders and tugged you close to them, only to relax when you realized it was Kaminari.
“Would ya look at that!!” he roared out through his microphone, shaking you around a bit. “We’ve got a tie!! Don’t judge people on their looks, folks! Been a while since someone was able to stand up against Mr. Murder God!!” He turned to look down at you, a wide grin on his face as he said your name. “Anything you wanna say in the aftermath of this riveting and oddly sexy match?!!”
You gulped, sweating nervously as the microphone was brought up to your mouth. You looked around at the frenzied crowd before your eyes eventually fell onto Dynamight’s scowling face. He’d picked himself off the ground, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared daggers at you. His face and ears were so red they reminded you of ripe apples. You held eye contact with him, leaning down slightly to speak into the microphone.
“I always win,” you said calmly and the crowd practically erupted in screams again. Dynamight scowled deeper, his teeth grating together. You only gave him a smirk in response.
---
The moments after the match were, honestly, not what you’d been expecting. As soon as you jumped down from the ring’s platform, you were ambushed by Ashido and that red-haired man you’d seen earlier.
“Holy shit, girl!!” she yelled and shook you by the shoulders. “That was so hot!!! Where did you learn to move like that?! You evaded like, all his attacks!!!”
You gave her a grin and lifted your hands up to hold onto her wrists. “I did gymnastics and stuff a lot. Ever since I was a kid.”
“You were really cool up there!!” the red-haired man agreed brightly. You turned to look at him as he stuck a hand out at you. He was incredibly tall and broad-shouldered with dazzling white teeth that shined brighter than the sun. You felt even smaller standing in front of him than you did while you were sparring with Dynamight. “I’m Kirishima Eijirou, by the way, Dynamight’s best friend and trainer!”
“Nice to meet you,” you told him pleasantly as you shook his hand. It nearly engulfed your own. Ashido let go of you and clasped her hands together as she wiggled around.
“He’s gonna be so pissed that he didn’t win this one,” she said gleefully. Her lips curled into a wicked grin. “He wins everything, y’know? Getting a tie’s gonna hurt his ego so much, I’d be wary if I were you!”
“Wary?” You cocked your head to the side in confusion. “Why?”
“He’s gonna want to fight you again,” Kirishima snickered, “Won’t be able to deal with the loss.”
“But it was a tie,” you pointed out. “Technically not a loss.”
“It is to him”—Ashido rolled her eyes then seemed to notice something behind you—“Oh! Speak of the devil!”
You had but a moment’s notice before something strong gripped your shoulder and spun you around. You blinked and found yourself staring at a bare chest before you moved your gaze up to look at Dynamight’s snarling face. He had a white towel around his neck that he’d probably used to wipe the sweat off his face if its dryness was any indication.
“Yes?” you asked him to fill the tense air he’d caused to settle around you both. He let out a small growl then lifted his hand from your shoulder to poke it at you.
“You, me,” he gritted out through clenched teeth, “rematch. Right now.”
You only stared at him. Before you could say something, however, someone else joined your little group.
“Hey hey heeey, man, chill out!” Kaminari slid next to you. His microphone was gone and you took the small distraction to glance around the arena. The crowd was being ushered out by people in dark security uniforms. It made you wonder where your friends were. You should probably get back to them soon. “You just had a match, save it for later!”
“No,” Dynamight spat out, his gaze not moving from your own at all. You noticed his ears were still pretty red. “We’re goin’ again.”
“Dude,” Kirishima sighed, “c’mon, it’s been a long night.”
“Yeah! Not everyone’s got the energy like you do!” Ashido butted in, her hands on her hips as she raised her eyebrows at the boxer. He only let out an irate tch.
“I don’t fuckin’ care—”
“While I would love to stay back and fight again,” you interrupted loudly, “I do have to take care of my friends.” You paused for a second then added on, “My drunk friends. I can’t leave them alone.”
“See?” Kirishima gestured pointedly at you then reached a large hand out to clap against Dynamight’s shoulder. He roughly shrugged it off and Kirishima raised his hands in surrender. “Save it for another time, bro.”
Dynamight glared at Kirishima for a hot second then scoffed loudly, seeming to relent. “Whatever.” He stormed off to one of the benches and started shuffling around in what you assumed was his bag. You watched him, tracing your eyes along the muscles that made up his upper back, before you were roughly tugged back to reality when something slammed into your side and latched onto your arm. Two somethings.
“What the—” you managed to yelp out, stumbling slightly as your head snapped around to see your two friends clinging onto you eagerly, dopey smiles on their faces.
“I told you!!” your friend shouted in your ear as she shook your arm. She looked so proud, drunkenly holding onto you. “I— I told you you could take ‘im!!!”
“Where did you guys come from?? Did you hop the gate??” you asked confusedly. You were promptly ignored, not that you minded.
“That— That was so cool you were soo cool!!” your other friend blabbered as they leaned heavily against your side. You only shook your head, smiling slightly at them.
“Thanks, but I should really get you both home.” You let out a sigh and allowed them to lean against you and chatter away. Now that the match was over, you were starting to feel pretty tired. It didn’t help that you felt really gross, your jeans and blouse sticking uncomfortably to your warm skin.
“Want help?” Kirishima offered. “My car’s parked down the block.”
You hesitated. While you were thankful for the offer, you were still wary about piling into the car of a man you met literally five minutes ago. Stranger danger, and all that. You weren’t stupid, even if he did seem nice.
“Thanks, but I think I’ll just call an Uber,” you declined him politely. You hoped he would understand your reluctance, and it seemed like he did, for he didn’t seem offended in the slightest.
“If you say so.” He shrugged and stuck his hands into his pockets. You suppressed a relieved sigh.
“I could also offer y’all a ride,” Kaminari added in, giving you a wink when you turned your head to look at him, unimpressed.
“Bitch you came with me!!” Ashido slapped him on the back of his head, a scolding look on her face. Kaminari looked at her as he rubbed the back of his head. “You ain’t slick!!”
“Worth a shot.” Kaminari bowed his head and pouted at the floor. You cracked a smile. This was so strange.
“Well,” you started lightly, nudging at your friends to get them to ease up on their crushing grips, “I should head out—” Before you could even finish your sentence, however, Dynamight stomped his way back over to you and shoved something in your face. You blinked and looked up at him, the way he was pointedly avoiding your gaze. A flush was still around his neck and ears. It was kind of cute, not that you’d tell him that.
“Take it!” he impatiently shouted at you as he waved his hand under your nose. You raised an eyebrow, not noticing when Kirishima and Ashido exchanged sly looks.
“Oh, uh, okay.” You pried your arm loose from your friend and grabbed whatever Dynamight had been holding. Your two friends leaned closer to peek at it as well. It was a slip of paper with a name and phone number on it. Bakugou Katsuki, huh? It was fitting. You glanced up to look at him. “What’s this for…?”
He sneered at you, and you noticed he had shoved on a black tank top that fitted his torso quite nicely. “We’re havin’ that fuckin’ rematch, no excuses. Text me your availability.”
“Pfft”—Kaminari snorted into his elbow—“It’s like you’re setting up an appointment— OW!” He’d gotten punched on the upper arm by Dynamight. “Okay, okay, I’ll shut up, jeez.”
“You’d better,” Dynamight snarled at Kaminari, then turned back to look at you. “If y’don’t text me I swear to fuck I’ll hunt you down.” Was that a threat or a promise?
“It’s not that serious, luv,” Ashido muttered not-so-quietly behind her hand. You shook your head and smiled.
“No, no, it’s okay,” you said as you read over the slip of paper again. “I’m down for another match. It’ll be fun.” Your eyes flicked back up to Dynamight, fixing him with a stare that had the tips of his ears darkening further. You smirked and followed the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, then moved to hold eye contact with him again. “It’s a date then, Bakugou.”
pairing: msby!miya atsumu x you, (but reader is not present in the drabble. he's just pining.) reader she/her pronouns.
CW: FW fluff, but MINORS DNI, please- this is a mature page.
hey, @potionpeddlerpatchy, what's it like to torture this man? hm? (this is for you xo)
–
Atsumu sighs wistfully as the door to the shop swings shut behind you, hoping you’ll turn around to look at him. You don’t. You never do.
His wanting eyes follow you all the way across the road to your own shop, just to make sure you won't turn around when you think he's not looking anymore. You don't. You never do.
God, you looked so pretty today. Like a flower. A flower that will not open to him. No matter what attentions he showers you with when you come in, it's always those playful refusals in response.
“Sure….” and “Does this usually work for you?” with a bat of your eyelashes.
Even your rejections make him smile like a charmed idiot. Even your rejections are sweet and clever.
He'd give up if you weren't always saying those things with a smirk and a telling little twinkle in your eye. Today he could have sworn you were even leaning into his space a little- but, when he asked what you were up to this weekend, you changed the subject.
You've been driving him crazy for a month.
He crouches down to the counter and rests his head in his hands, letting out one of those plaintive, sad puppy sighs that Osamu knows he’s expected to respond to.
“Get back to work, lazy.”
“Oh, ‘samu,” he croons, turning dramatically, like a man on stage.
“She doesn’t like me. The prettiest girl in the world doesn’t like me.” He drags a hand across his chest as if he’s been shot.
“Maybe she has taste,” Osamu jokes, the corner of his mouth tugging up as he takes off his gloves.
“You look just like me, asshole” Atsumu complains, but Osamu just chuckles.
“Do I…” Atsumu rests his head in one big palm. Thoughtful, and in complete disregard of his down-time chores. “Can she tell I’m flirting or do you think she’s just really shy?”
Atsumu carries on without reply, as Osamu predicted.
“Or maybe I’m not her type. Maybe she’s into the angsty, brooding thing, or–”
“She probably just doesn't believe you.” He rings a rag out and starts to clean the counters, knowing Atsumu won’t do any work until he has his moment.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Two professionally toned arms cross defensively over his chest.
Osamu knew his brother would bring a lot of attention to the shop if he let him work part-time. All muscled and confident after his most recent MSBY season. But Atsumu insisted he “needed something to do” during the off season.
“Bro, you flirt with everyone.”
“What?”
Osamu turns to look at his brother for the first time in the conversation, smiling at the genuine look of shock on his face.
“I do not!”
He shakes his head. “Look, I’m not complaining.” Osamu motions to the overfull tip jar with a smirk. “It’s good for my business.”
“I do not flirt with everyone, I’m just friendly!” Then, as an afterthought, “and handsome.”
“And never shut yer trap.” Osamu stoops to check the line fridge stock.
Atsumu marches over to him, even farther away from his station.
“You’re lucky we’re slow right now,” Osamu side steps.
“Well at least I try,” Atsumu spits. “All you ever do is stare at her friend like some creepy onigiri phantom.”
“Shut up. I talk to her.” Osamu sounds firm, but the heat rises to his cheeks immediately.
“Yeah, to tell her that her order’s ready.”
“Go back to work.” Osamu defelects, suddenly the more flustered of the two.
“Or what? The phantom of the onigiri will haunt me? Spooky.” He wiggles his long, setter fingers.
“He’ll beat yah in a fight fer the 50th time in yer life,” the gray haired twin deadpans.
“Whatever.” Atsumu saunters back to the cash register. “That's just because I was built for precision and athleticism… not brutish belligerence.”
Osamu starts toward Atsumu with the intention of showing him ‘brute,” but stops short at the sound of the shop’s door chime.
thinkin abt eijiro scrolling thru your phone while you lay your head on his chest and watch. maybe it’s tumblr or twt. but he scrolls through and reads or plays anything he finds interesting out loud and watches your reaction. everything from full oneshots of the filthiest smut you’ve got in your fic recs to every unhinged thirst thought you write in the tags. he might see your response to something and say, “oh, you like that, hmm?” in a teasing tone to watch you squirm. he’s even commenting on the funny thirst shitposts that were only meant to be half serious, but now he’s got you hot faced and hiding as he chuckles. “‘s that really what you want, princess? we can do that if you’d like.”
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