For your 1k follower event -congrats by the way!! Gemini + Kirishima + 7, please!
OKAY LISTEN. I GOT VERY VERY CARRIED AWAY. Who the fuck knew this inspiration would strike me on a TUESDAY at 9:00pm? Not me. Anyway. Thank you for the congratulations, and I hope you enjoy this! It started out innocent, and then just completely derailed into this.
18+, “Is that a tattoo?” x Kirishima Eijirou
word count: 2.2k (what. the. fuck. written in 3 and a half hours)
warnings: smut, size kink, public sex, unprotected sex.
Thank you for encouraging me, @koiibito and @queensynderella
Kirishima was the hardest guy you knew, even without his quirk activated. The muscles rippled down his back as you stroked deeply, kneading out the knots with strong, practised fingers. You were a private masseuse to the Pro-Heroes, and you were the best. When he booked an appointment, you weren’t shocked, but damn, were you curious.
Your colleagues all talked about the hulk of a man, wondering what he was like, what his skin felt like. Does he get hard all over? You know, down there? They’d whisper to each other, ask you to find out. Like hell, you will. There’s a reason the Pro’s come to you. You’re professional, courteous, confidentia-
Wow, he’s got a nice ass. You can’t help but think while you worked the lower sciatica, taking out the kinks. He groaned, twitching on the bed, the thin, white sheet covering him doing nothing to hide the firm, toned muscle. “Is the pressure okay?”
He grunted, lifted his head a little to flash you a killer smile.
“It’s perfect,” then fell back down, head in the hole, “I’ve actually been having a bit of back pain so this is great.”
“Happy to help,” you replied, cordial and quietly, so as not to take over the ambience music in the room, but rather blend in with it. “Have you been training your legs more?”
“Yeah, can you tell?” there was a tease to his question, but you bit back a retort, not one to instigate. It wasn’t his first one of the session, and it was getting harder to remain placid.
“The main reason for back pain in heroes is the overuse of the glutes and tight hips,” you commented, digging your finger into the very round of his buttock, right where the nerve ending sits. You’d never heard someone so buff make such a whine before, and you shivered in the sadistic delight of hearing it. God, you love your job.
“Shit, that’s sore,” Kirishima curses under his breath, you ignored it, the knot of muscle dissipating and relaxing under your relentless fingers. “Damn, you’ve got a magic touch.”
That’s when you let your facade slip; a giggle escaped your lips.
“Ah! So you’re not a robot!” the red-haired Hero exclaimed, you huffed, walking back to his head. You warmed another pump of oil in your hands, pressed them down to his neck and stroked up into the shave of his undercut.
“Of course not,” you scraped at his scalp, watched goosebumps as they danced along the back of his arms. That’s a surprisingly soft, human, skin reaction, something you could tell your co-workers, and as you pulled the longer hair up, you gasped, “is that a tattoo?”
On the back of Kirishima’s head, covered with thick hair, were two RR’s in his logo. He chuckled, the laugh booming and shaking his body.
“Yeah,” he paused, only slightly. His voice dropped an octave, sending shivers down your spine “it’s not my only one.”
Now, how could you resist that? You couldn’t, that’s why you answered him, matching his drawl with your own.
“Oh? And where are the others?” your heart thumped in your ears, you’d never, ever crossed that line before. But he’s so fit, so charismatic, your mouth responding before your mind caught up.
He was fast, astonishing for how much muscle he had to move, but he pushed himself up, onto his heels, kneeling. His quads stretched, flexed, the four individual muscles formed hills and valleys up his legs. Your eyes trailed up from his knees, slowly, frightened to see too much at once. Then you saw the second tattoo, right next to his--
“Oh my,” you cleared your throat, averted your gaze, well, tried to. You felt your face catch fire, but the stiff cock stood up against the taut muscle of his abs. Everything about him was rock solid.
“Like what you see?” he teased, an overwhelmingly large hand wrapped around the base. You swore he was not this massive laying down on your table a few moments ago. You swallowed, scolded yourself mentally for not looking away, eyes devouring his third leg, and the dragon tattoo next to it. He moved the dick to the left, the skin of his groin pulling flat so the tattoo stands out: black, intricate, dangerous. It stretched across his upper thigh, right below the line of where his hero costume would rest. You opened your mouth to remark, shut it, then opened it again. Fuck.
“It’s, uh, nice,” you complimented, finally ripping your stare from his bare hips and up to his face, “the tattoo, I mean.”
His red eyes glinted mischievously, his grin lopsided, teeth sharp.
“And the cock?”
“Big.” The words flew from your mouth, your hands instantly covered your lips. You could be swallowed by the earth now and have no complaints. “Shit, sorry.”
There it was, that deep, boisterous laughter. It made your core clench, a fresh wave of heat pool between your thighs. You watched as his chest shook, abdominals flexing and cock bounce. He laughed with his entire body. Does he fuck with it too? You took a few deep breaths, steadied your nerves. There was always a first for everything, and Lord knows, you’re not going to let him book another appointment when his hour is up. You glanced at the clock, there’s still some time. Kirishima’s eyes were closed, his mouth open and head back.
“How about I help you take care of it?” you propositioned. It shut him up quick. His jaw snapped shut, body frozen as he peered at your serious expression, your relaxed stance. You had a perfectly manicured hand on the edge of the bed, leaning into it, glistening with massage oil.
“If you think you can handle it,” he smirked.
“Oh, I can handle anything, Red Riot.”
He red eyes flickered, lit by an internal fire. You rounded the bed, trailing your hands on the edge. He moved to seated, legs hanging off the side. With the lightest of touches, your fingers tips ghosted over the thick thigh. They widened, and you slotted yourself between his knees. There was no time to waste; his hands cupped your cheeks, yours pressed onto his knees, and your mouths met in a hungry kiss.
His tasted like spices, sandalwood, warm and inviting. His hands drifted lower, down your neck, to the front of your uniform where he began to undo the aestheticians’ coat buttons with deft fingers. You rubbed circles into the muscles of his quads, feeling them ripple beneath your touch as you stroked up, leaning into the kiss with your entire body. You felt the coat loosen. You took a step back, a whine leaving Kirishima’s mouth desperately. The coat is strewn onto the floor. You grabbed the hem of your simple dress and tug it over your head, standing before him in a matching set of underwear. Thankfully.
“C’mere,” he growled, pulling you close again. His large hands wrapped around your middle, the sheer size of them making you feel petite, dainty, but oh, how you were not. You snaked your arms around his neck, pulled him down for another kiss. He tightened his grip, keeping you flush against his chest and straightening up. You followed, leveraging your weight around his neck, not that you needed to, and straddled his thighs. Fuck, how wide is he?
You moaned, lowly, under your breath, when you felt the hardness of his cock slide between your bodies, bump against your mound, tickle your belly. You were getting hot, sweaty, the oil on his body, your hands, slicking up the skin between the two of you. There was a pounding in your chest, your ears, your cunt, as you grind against him, splayed open around his hips. His thick fingers trailed from your waist down your ass, reaching under and pulling up. They massaged between your folds, feeling how your slick soaks through the thin cotton panties.
“I need to get you ready,” he whispered against your lips, his kisses moving so that they littered your jaw, your neck. Still, you grind down on his hand, the tip barely providing enough relief. You eyed the clock over his shoulder.
“No time, just fuck me.”
He pulled back, remarkably restrained for someone who’s cock was practically ready to burst between your bodies.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Alright then, but don’t scream.” The cocky bastard winked at you, then had the audacity to rip the seam of your underwear, the side falling apart and down. His lips came back to swallow your cries. It was a fucking matching set. He shifted back so that he was more on the table. Your shins pressed into the firm mattress to lift your hips. One of his hands wrapped around the back of your neck, warm and moist and gravitational. It kept you grounded into his kiss, his tongue coaxing yours from it’s resting place to dance together. His other hand trailed up your thighs, dipped between the gap, and rubbed two fingers against your slick slit, opening it up for the tip of his cock to tease your lower lips.
He pressed in, and you severely underestimated the stretch, collapsing onto his shoulder. His trap was between your teeth, muffling your moans. Oh God, fuckfuckfuck, but it’s delicious. You breathed through your nose, relaxed into that weighted palm, leaving the smallest of pecks where you almost broke the skin in your bite. Almost.
“You’re doing good, baby,” Kirishima whispered into your ear, dropping you lower. Your thighs quivered from being spread so thinly around his waist. But his praise spurred you on.
“Look at you, taking my cock so well, we’re halfway now, just relax.”
Hold up.
You pulled back from his shoulder and looked down. Bitch, he’s not going to fit. He must’ve seen the expression of horror on your face, because he smiled, lips smug, eyes like an inferno as he chided you.
“I thought you said you can handle anything.”
You can. So, you ground yourself a little further down, feeling how his silken cock filled your so completely.
“That’s it, keep going beautiful.”
The tip of his cock tapped your cervix, and your eyes almost rolled into another dimension. You stayed like that for a minute, then two. Kirishima felt how your walls clenched around him, wanting to swallow all of him, more than you physically could. Your forehead rested against his shoulder, his arms around your waist, and he just couldn’t take it anymore.
He began to bounce you. The pressure in your womb climbed up, coming out in short ragged breaths against his chest. You were like his little plaything, controlled by his hands alone. You whimpered, feeling fire and ice pour into you from his palms and his cock; opposite ends of a spectrum meeting in the middle to explode sinfully in your body. Your fingers clawed at his body, massaging his back, his waist, before it found that gap between your bodies and pressed against your clit.
You’ve been so good at hiding your moans. Until now. The whimpers left your throat desperately. You clenched around him, pulled him in deeper, tighter, and he spiralled into you --no, he twisted you. He’d found his footing on the floor, and spun you both around so that your back pressed into the table and he could now fuck you with more power, more leverage, with his entire body. Fingers clamped around your jaw, two pushed inside to shut you up, the other massaged a breast, your nipples, tugging and pulling until you were biting those sinful fingers.
He thrusted into you, hips snapping, breaking your inner walls down so your emotions broke free into the room. It filled with energy so raw, so powerful. You had no idea where your hands were. At some point, they were in your hair, then his forearms, gripping them so fiercely, even he thought he’d snap. Your practised fingers could leave bruises on most men. But not Kirishima. His cock hit that perfect spot inside you each and every fucking time. You sucked down his digits, somehow you were not done being filled, but you were close, so so close.
“Red Riot,” you mumbled around his fingers, all thoughts had already cleared out of your head, but he seemed to understand. The hand that massaged your breast flicked tight, quick circles against your throbbing clit. His pounding was getting sloppy, mistimed, and you broke down in pieces. A part of your soul escaped, latched onto his as you both died a small death. Yours unseen, black and ascending to the heavens, while his left warm, wet traces across your stomach.
His fat cock throbbed as it rested against your mound, spent, once more soft. His fingers slipped from your slack jaw, his head bowed forward as both your chests heaved from the exertion.
“Wow,” you managed to say after several seconds, your high subsiding into a gentle hum. Then, what you just did hit you like a train, your torso shooting up, cum dribbling down onto the table and between your legs. You fucked a Pro-Hero at work. A smile split your face in two.
And honestly? No regrets.
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:| idek what this was lmao. @joyousandverywarlike since you want to be on my permanent tag list and I love you x
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