#escort!reader

[ellecdc]

Pretty Woman

slow burn poly!wolfstar Pretty Woman (1990) au: established wolfstar, escort!reader, side jegulily, eventual dorlene, trans Regulus, political heist-type situation, fraud for the greater good, depictions and descriptions of sex-work, hurt/comfort, some angst, happy ending

warnings: this fic deals with sex-work as well as the stigma's surrounding it, power-imbalances, concepts of sexual exploitation, men who are kind of gross, sugar babe dynamics, found family, and there may be more. while this fic isn't inherently explicit, there will be mature themes and may eventually have explicit parts. you are responsible for the content you consume, and viewer discretion is advised!

the pilot [3k words]

part II [3k words]

part III [TBD]

part IV [TBD]

...

[zweiginator]

divorced!art who has nobody and nowhere. lives in a hotel off the highway and stares at the ceilings at night. how the fan whirs and the lamp wobbles as the people next door come and go, come and go.

art really has nothing to do. and during a low moment, full of desperation and loneliness and broken sobs—he calls an escort service.

he pays over the phone and the woman on the other side runs the payment, the phone pressed against her ear and the cradle in her shoulder.

“someone’s antsy.”

art sighs. berates himself for seeming so fucking needy. is that why he’s divorced?

“maybe so.” and then he hangs up.

thirty five minutes later, a knock on the door. two sharp bangs, the flat of a palm. a jangle of keys and the thick strap of a purse.

he opens the door and there you are. red lipstick and eyeliner and a short, short skirt. impossibly high thigh high stockings.

art lets you in. he’s wearing nice pants and a button up shirt but you can tell he didn’t have on such nice clothes before this. the clothing is much too pristine, crinkly as he pours you a drink.

you’re supposed to get a feel for what he wants. that’s what your job description is, more than anything. not necessarily the touching, stroking, kissing. fucking.

he shakes your hand, awkwardly. a soft grip, like you’re a fragile doll. but you grip him harder and he says,

“i’m art.”

you give him your name. the fake one you’re supposed to use. he says it’s a beautiful name and you sigh and sit on his lap. throw your arms over his shoulders.

“you’re strong.” you feel his shoulders; they’re broad and hard under your fingertips and he likes how your hands dig into him. you figure, this is what he needs. “do you work out?” he needs to feel masculine, and therefore good, needed.

his hand hovers over yours and he sighs at the pressure. how you adjust in his lap. his pants are scratchy.

“i play tennis. taking a little bit of a break from practicing at the moment.”

his voice is so feeble.

“if you’re so strong—why are you seeming so weak?” you ask. you run your thumb over his cheekbone, his cupid’s bow, his bottom lip. his eyes close.

“that’s a good question.”

he’s hard underneath you; he has been since you sat in his lap. your thigh highs have rolled down just a tad and art hasn’t even noticed that the skin there is pebbled with goosebumps because he’s only looking at your face.

“and most men by now—“ you take his wrist and place it on your inner thigh. “would be fucking me right now. but you’re not. why?”

art’s thumb rubs a small circle on your inner thigh and you spread them for him. your skirt rides up and art can see your panties. they’re not what he expects. pink and cotton, as if from a pack at the grocery store.

“because i thought we’d talk first.”

you rock your hips back and forth on his erection. “you thought we’d talk first? i can do that.”

art moans, breathily. you almost can’t hear him. but he’s silent otherwise.

“what do you want to talk about?” your hips move again, and art plants one hand on each of your thighs. feels the warm skin, where the hem of your panties squishes the flesh. you look down, and then up at him again.

“i’m lonely.” he feels a pang of regret but then he sees the genuine empathy in your face. it pours out of you. you’re much younger than him, but he feels taken care of.

“i’m lonely.”

“most everyone is.” you pop the buckle of his belt. quietly move the leather through and art grabs your hand to stop you.

“i’m lonely and it scares me.” he undoes the first few buttons of his shirt, but then he stops.

“but i’m right here.” you tell him, a promise in the shell of his ear. “so you’re not lonely. not right now.”

art smiles. it’s lopsided but you see a boyishness come out of him for that second.

“so you don’t want me to touch you?” it wouldn’t be all that uncommon. but it would be the first time you’d feel disappointment from it.

he shakes his head and pulls your legs closer, so you’re all the way on his lap. all the way his, for the time being.

“i’d rather touch you. if that’s okay.”

usually it wouldn’t be okay. it wasn’t a rule on paper but in your mind, you didn’t want clients to touch you. you didn’t want to blur lines and involve the sappy feelings that come from stuff like that. you’d never let a client make you cum. you’ve never had to worry about that.

but art looks at you like he needs it.

“yes. that’s okay.”

art picks you up. he sets you further back on the bed, against his pillows. perfectly fluffed against the headboard. and he admires you. it makes you grow hot, uncomfortably aroused. he pushes your legs apart, and your skirt gathers around your waist. you cover yourself with your arms, suddenly embarrassed from the intensity of his gaze. he kisses your ankle.

“don’t cover yourself. i have to admire you.”

have to.

“okay.” you spread yourself out more.

“take off your shirt, please.”

you pull it over your head and it musses your hair up. you aren’t wearing a bra and your nipples grow hard. the room is cold, but you’re both covered in a sheath of sweat.

“touch yourself.”

“where?” your fingers play with the waistband of your panties.

“wherever you want.”

you rub over your tits, down your torso. spread your legs a little more. and art watches with a tilted head and his mouth ajar.

he draws in a breath.

“push your panties to the side.” art can see a wet spot forming, and he wonders what you think of him. if you think he’s as alluring as you are to him. maybe you’re wet because you’re really attracted to him.

you maintain eye contact with him and do as he says. art lurches forward on the bed, laying on his stomach.

“can i touch you—“ art looks up at you and his lips are close to your cunt and you’re nodding before he even finishes. “here?” he runs his middle fingers through your folds and feels how soaked you are.

“do you like that? i don’t want to make you uncomfortable. you can be honest with me. you should be.” art retracts his hand.

you don’t know whether to shake your head, to say no i’m not uncomfortable. or to nod it fervently. tell him please, touch me.

“please, touch me.” you sound more desperate than you mean to, but art likes it. it shows you really aren’t lying. unless you are.

art leans into your spread thighs and you feel each breath as it escapes him.

“i can touch you with my fingers if you’d like that.” he suggests. “or with my mouth.”

you never let your clients be intimate with you like this. but you need it now.

“your m-mouth.” the words stumble but art listens.

his tongue licks a fat stripe up your folds. he’s more forceful now, keeping your legs spread although they want so badly to clamp shut. to trap him there, his tongue inside you. like you caught him.

your hips swivel up and down and you ride his tongue, pointed and sharp against your clit. you’re so sensitive and so wet but art spits on you again and again. rubs it into you to make himself a part of your anatomy. and you feel like you could cum just by looking at him. slick on his face—he’s shining with you. tongue dripping all his spit on you like he needs you to just take it all. and he kisses your clit sweetly before he sucks it in his mouth.

you’re going to cum, you tell him. and you should stop this before it goes to far but art holds onto you tighter and eats you harder and you cum on his tongue. he swallows it like a token. you should really go, your time here is up. but you pull him by his hair so you can have his mouth. so you can finally taste him, even though right now, he is you. you kiss him for awhile, messy and intoxicated and then you say you have to go.

you lean on the bed post while you put your heels on and pull your skirt down. and you leave without getting the money even though art had it ready to go for you, smoothed out on the table. a business card falls out of your purse; you advertise yourself as a masseuse.

and there your name is, in bold black print, fake.

and as soon as the door closes, art searches you up. sixteen tabs. he’ll find you, because he needs to have you again. and you left, because you can never see him again.

[satorusugurugurl]

My Wedding Date is an Escort!

Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojo’s heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.

Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader

Word Count: 3,682

Warning: Mentions of depression, anxiety, language

A/N: And so part one is complete!! Please let me know what you think! I plan on posting a new part every Saturday! In the mean time I will work on my brain worm fics/requests!!

Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight

Gold calligraphy mocked you as you stared at the wedding invitation on your table. Any normal person would have been elated over their best friend getting married. The dresses, cake, looking at venues! It should have been a happy, wonderful time.

And it would have been amazing if your best friend had met her fiance through anyone other than Toji Zenin. Your ex-fiance, the man who broke your heart, who was also the groomsman at the wedding! The same wedding you were a bridesmaid in.

Life fucking hated you.

Your break up was a year and a half ago. It was tucking painful, watching the life and future you had imagined slip away. You were inconsolable for the first few months, but any other person would feel the same if their fiance broke up with them the way Toji had done to you. Part of you liked to think you were getting better; you knew you weren't healed completely.

The closer the wedding came, the more nervous and sick you got. In a month, you would have to face Toji for the first time in over a year. He was doing much better off than you. He got married! He was now Toji Fushiguro and he and his wife had a son!

Fate was a cruel bitch. He was living his dreams: a house, a pretty wife, a sweet, beautiful son. Toji got everything he wanted while you sunk into the darkness of despair. Toji had ruined you, marked you in ways you weren't sure you'd ever heal from. You never wanted to be hurt like that again. That's why you were single.

Single and traumatized. Perfect intro on your dating profile. So yeah, dating wasn't your thing right now.

Which puts you in a messy fucking predicament. You would be at a wedding with your Ex, who was living the life you had always wanted. Why was he given happily ever after while you were left to pick up the pieces of your broken heart? You could already see the pitiful expressions that your loved ones would be wearing, and that made your skin crawl with anxiety.

You could not show up to the wedding alone.

Which is why you were sitting in your kitchen, drowning in anxiety. You stared at your laptop, bouncing your leg nervously as you scrolled on Escorts4y0u.com. Damn, Yu Haibara, for suggesting this to you. You were shopping for a fuckin’ escort!?

You shot his insane suggestion down as soon as he said it. You had begun ranting about how even more embarrassing it would be if your family found out. First, your fiance leaves you a month before your wedding. Then you go and pay for someone to pretend to be your boyfriend all because you couldn’t bear yourself to start dating again?

Amid your nervous rant, Haibara just put his hand on yours. He assured you that no one would know that they were an escort. If they were good at their job, all your family would see was a happy couple. They would be someone to go to the wedding with, and once you paid them, you would never see them again! No one would be the wiser.

“It's their job to make you feel good and help you have a good time. And you deserve to be happy.” Haibara had said with pity in his eyes. Just thinking about his face, that expression, made you cringe to think of the faces of everyone at the wedding.

“Fuck it.” You cursed, clicking on the escort you liked the most.

Gojo Satoru, twenty-eight years old. His profile listed that he was well-educated and came from a prestigious clan. He was charismatic, confident, and kind. You read dozens of reviews. His previous clients gushed over him. All five stars, every single person he’d helped was grateful for him. Plus, Gojo was very attractive. He had pure white hair, was over six feet tall, and had the most stunning blue eyes you'd ever seen. He was the ideal partner anyone would want to take home to meet the family.

Which would explain why he was the most expensive escort on the website.

“¥120,000 for a day!?” You screeched as you bounced your leg faster, doing the mental math in your head. “That’s ¥900,000.00 for a week.” The mere amount of money you were about to spend almost had you slamming your laptop shut. But Haibara’s face crossed your mind; Toji’s face began to form before you shook your head.

Hiring Gojo was your only option. You had to do this to avoid getting hurt again. Plus, you had to use the deposit from your honeymoon eventually. It would be like burying the past!

“Okay, okay, you got this; just book it Y/N!” Getting up, you jumped up and down to hype yourself up before you hit the green phone icon and dialed the number. The phone rang once and twice.

“This is Gojo!” A gruff but cheery voice answered.

You’re sure your soul left your body as you squealed in shock. He answered!? The man you were going not only to pay but also beg to pretend to be your boyfriend?!

“Hello?” A faint hint of humor and curiosity laced the voice in your ear.

You groaned, rubbing your hand down your face with a whine. “S-Sorry, I was expecting a receptionist for something.” You put the phone on speaker before hitting your head against your table.

“Oh! My bad, sorry!” His chuckle was a deep noise through the receiver. “We put our business numbers on the site. It’s just easier for us to schedule our clients like this.” He hummed. “I assume you’re on the escort website?”

“Yes, I—I was wondering if you might be free next month for a wedding? It’s my best friend.”

“Give me a sec.” Shuffling papers filled your anxiety. “A month from today?”

“Yes.”

Gojo hummed happily, “I am free that whole week! So will it be the wedding and reception?” A pen could be heard writing down notes.

”So it’s uhm, it’s a destination wedding. It’s in Kyoto, and I need you for the whole week. If that’s not an issue or problem.”

”Okay, that shouldn’t be an issue. It’s far enough out that I can block my schedule.” He whistled happily, jotting down more notes. “So the whole week, wedding, reception—“

For some odd reason, it sounded like he was hesitating or weighing his options, questioning if he wanted to even take you on as a client. The growing fear of rejection spreads like wildfire through your stomach. You never used to feel like this; you were so happy and confident before. But after everything Toji did, what he said to you after you had—well, it left some really deep scars that still hadn’t healed. When your mind picked at those still healing wounds, making them bleed, you acted before thinking.

”I have the money!” Gripping the table's edge, you stared at Gojo’s headshot on the website. “Please, I need this!”

“Hey, hey! I’m not worried about the money, sweetheart.” His voice was thick like honey; the pet name sounded so sweet. “I’m just making sure I got everything down.” On the other line, Gojo looked down at his calendar. There was something in your voice, desperation, that was genuine.

He’d had tons of clients, and many of them needed help. But in his two years of working in this field, he had never heard such a raw plea for help. Gojo’s interest peaked. Just who were you? What made you so anxious and desperate for his help?

”Let me confirm the details so I can put you in my books, Ms.?” He waited for your name, hearing you sigh in relief as you calmed yourself down

”Y/N, my name is Y/N Y/L/N.”

”Y/N,” Gojo repeated, “Okay, I have you down for next month, the whole week, for a destination wedding in Kyoto.”

You were sighing happily as you relaxed into your chair. “Thank you. It’s 900,000.00. For the whole week?” Gojo cocked an eyebrow, grinning at your straightforward attitude.

”Depends, will food and hotel be included?”

“Yes, we’ll be staying at my parents' inn; they offered to host my friend's wedding. So food, money, and accommodations will be included. Plus, I’ll take care of your travel expenses.”

Gojo turned in his desk chair, biting his lip as he listened to your stern voice. “Okay, so it’s going to be ¥600,000. A lot of the cost goes to food and hotels. Since you’re taking care of it, you get a lovely discount, sweetheart.” A scoff sounded from his phone, making him smile even wider.

”Great, lucky me.”

Gojo bit his lip, chuckling. “Did you want any other additions?”

“If you’re asking if I want to include your other services, no. I don’t need sex.”

“Don’t need sex?” He perked up as Suguru, his roommate, peeked in, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Seriously?”

You gave the phone a confused look as if you were looking at Gojo yourself. “Yes, I’m dead serious.” The line went utterly silent before rich, stunned laughter filled your kitchen.

”Well shit, that’s a first!”

”Glad I could keep you on your toes, Gojo.”

”Nope.”

You blinked. “No, what?” Gojo snickered as you picked up your phone heading into your room.

”I’m going to be your boyfriend. You have a month, one month, to get used to saying my first name.” The seriousness of his tone made you stop in your tracks. “So it’s Satoru to you, Y/N.”

With a blush dusting your cheeks, you giggled, shaking your head. “Alright, that makes sense. Thank you, Satoru.”

”You’re welcome, Y/N. I’ll see you in a month.”

In one month, you were ¥600,000 poorer, and your nerves were shot as you searched for your fake boyfriend at the train station coffee shop. In the last month, you had spoken to Goj—Satoru twice over the. Once to book his services and yesterday to discuss where you were meeting. His company took care of everything else.

It was still surreal that you hired an escort to be your date, and you were waiting for a stranger at a coffee shop. This wasn't like you; it was so unbelievable. You sipped your coffee, looking around anxiously.

It was like a Greek God walked in. He was tall, like his profile said, over six-three. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes as his white fluffy hair bounced with every step. Straightening, you hesitated before lifting your hand and waving at your fake boyfriend. Seeing your arm raised, Gojo grinned, bounding forward as he pulled his sunglasses off.

“Hi! Are you Y/N?” You stood, swallowing as he still towered over you. God, he was dressed nice, all designer brand clothes. Which wasn't surprising with the amount of money you dropped to spend a week with him.

“Yes, I'm Y/L/N Y/N.” You handed him a cup of coffee that he took before sitting at the table. “Thank you again for doing this.”

Gojo grabbed six sugar packets, ripped them open, and poured all of them into his coffee. “Oh, you're welcome! I love seeing people happy.” Your eyes followed his hands as he poured cream into the coffee. “So, what's our story? That way, we're on the same page.” You couldn't help but smile as he sipped the sugary coffee with a grin.

“You have a sweet tooth?” Gojo hummed, taking another drink. “Maybe I'll make you something at the inn; I'm a pastry chef.” Gojo’s eyes went wide as you ran your fingers over the lid of your cup. “That’s a good story, we met at the bakery I wor—”

“You're a pastry chef?!” Gojo’s eyes sparkled. “Seriously?! What shop?!”

“Uhm, I work at Ichigo Cafe? It's in downtown Tokyo.”

“I love that place! The mochi there is the best!” His words had your cheeks burning your cheeks. “The cakes, the ice cream! Hell, the coffee is good too.”

You twirl your thumbs together. “Thank you, as the head chef, that makes me happy.” Satoru sat back, smiling sweetly. “So I uhm, yeah, that's a good story.”

“Yeah, it does. How long have we been together?”

The two of you settled on five months. That way, it was still pretty new. The whole time, Satoru nodded and added to your cover story. Thank god he was easy to talk to, putting your nerves at ear by the time your coffee was finished. Together, you were optimistic that you and Satoru could get through this week without a hiccup.

You both settled in on the train, getting to know each other more like favorite colors, foods, likes, and dislikes. Satoru didn't drink, had a major sweet tooth, and did his escorting gig full-time. He lived with his roommate and best friend, Geto Suguru, and he had a lot of free time.

You told him everything about yourself: likes, dislikes, favorite color, hell, even your blood type. But as the conversation began to dwindle, Satoru tilted his head. Sure, all that stuff was good now for the coming week, but he wanted to know more. Like why you hired him and why you ‘don’t do sex.’ That question had plagued his mind for the last month.

“Can I ask why you hired me?” His question had your head snapping up. “I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but you've been tense since we got on the train. There's more to this than just wanting a date to a wedding.”

“Uhh, is that obvious? I'm sorry. It's just my ex-fiance is at the wedding party with me.” Satoru paid close attention to how your eyes darkened as you looked out the window. “Our breakup was a shock since it happened a month before our wedding. So, I have all these trust issues, and I don't want to date anyone. Because it's easier not to get hurt if you don't put yourself out there.”

“Why did he break up with you?”

“Why didn't he?” The tone of your voice and words had Satoru peeking up. Not in curiosity but surprisingly in anger. Satoru had seen a lot of women and men in his days as an escort. Many are desperate, lonely, and want to have a good time. But whoever had broken your heart had hurt. You in more ways than one. “There were a lot of things that he uhm—listed off.”

You quickly changed the subject, much too fast for Satoru’s liking. But he wasn’t the type to pry, especially when it came to the feelings and comfort of his clients. So he let you change the subject. And the rest of the train ride to Kyoto, even up to your family's inn, the subject stayed clear of your ex. It was bad enough you’d be seeing him soon; you would much rather not talk about him before you saw his face.

You stood in front of the door to your family's inn. Satoru grabbed your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours as you took a deep breath. “Hey, we got this.” God, you hoped Satoru was right; this had to go perfectly.

Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, you stepped inside. The laughter and distant conversations echoed off the halls as wedding guests conversed and chatted while wandering around. You spotted your mother carrying a tray. She took one glance at you before looking away.

”Oh, Y/N darling, good you’re here. Whenever you get a chance, could you help me make some treats for afternoon tea? Everyone is instant with trying those matcha cookies you made last year.” After years of helping out, in the end, your body began to move on muscle memory, but Satoru stopped you, pulling you into his side with a grin.

“Hey, don’t just up and leave me. At least introduce me to your family first, sweetheart.” The bustling, noisy chatter around you stopped as your family and friends just seemed to notice the giant man standing beside you. His arm wrapped around your waist as he leaned down to kiss your temple. “My poor sweet girl is already in work mode. I thought this was supposed to be a vacation.”

”Right, of course, I’m sorry, Satoru. Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Gojo Satoru.”

”Eh!?”

Those sad, pitful reactions you had been so familiar with over the last year and a half were nowhere to be found on the faces of your loved ones. They were faces of shock, curiosity, and joy. A much better reaction, one that had you letting out a shaky breath you had no idea you were holding in. As you basked in relief, dark eyes watched the two of you, reading you.

The afternoon went off without a hitch. Satoru fit in with any conversation thrown his way. From what he did for a living to how the two of you met, he never stuttered or looked to you for help. He was exactly what you needed. With Gojo by your side, you knew you could get through this wedding without losing yourself in the darkness again.

You owed Haibara big time for this.

After the two of you answered several rounds of twenty questions and an early dinner, you and Satoru stepped into your room. You shut the door, sliding back against it as you shut your eyes. “Oh my gosh, that went much better than anticipated.” Satoru chuckled, setting both of your luggage off in the corner of the room.

“You did great.” His praise had you smiling more. “Seriously, this will be a walk in the park!”

You wanted to agree with him, but your mouth remained shut. That was just your family you met with. Things might be a different story when you face Toji. Because despite you not wanting him to, you knew he could read you like a book. He always could tell when you weren’t feeling the best or something was wrong. But maybe, if you keep playing your card right, you might be able to fool him, too.

”Yeah, a walk in the park.” You looked around the room, relieved to find the futon already laid out for you both. But it was missing the extra pillows you had asked for. The pillows that were going to be used to separate you and Satoru. “Huh, I thought my dad said the pillows would be here when we got to the room. I’ll be right back; the shower is just to the right if you want to wash up first.”

“Awesome, thanks a lot.”

As you reached for the door, the handle turned, startling you. Satoru moved so fast, his arms wrapping around you as the door opened wide. “Have you ever heard of knocking before? My girlfriend and I could have been doing something. If you saw that, I would have had to charge you for the show.” Satoru started as the door opened wide, revealing the person standing in front of it, four pillows in his arms.

”You seriously think I believe that?”

Your body went rigid as you stared into the dark eyes of the man who broke your heart. “T-Toji? What are you doing here?” You learned further back into Satoru’s chest, trying to put distance between the man that had stained your life.

“Bringing you your pillows.” He motioned his chin down at them to emphasize his words. “Look, we need to talk.”

Satoru could feel your breath quicken, your chest moving faster with each inhale you took. From your reaction, he could figure out just who exactly this asshole was. This dark-haired asshole who just barged into your room had to be the ex you didn’t want to talk about in any way, shape, or form. Looking at him, Satoru came to one conclusion without even knowing the guy. He was a fucking prick.

”Look, Toji, I’m exhausted. I don't want to talk right now.” You snatched the pillows away from him. “Satoru and I were going to get ready for bed. I require some TLC tonight.” You went to shut the door, but Toji placed his palm against it, preventing it from moving.

”Please, you and I both know this isn’t your boyfriend. I need to talk to you now. Tell your friend here he can fucking wait until our conversation is over.”

The tone and mere attitude of the prick in the door had Satoru seeing red. He released you, turning you to face him, glaring daggers at the man spewing toxic commands. “I’m not a friend.” Satoru spit out the last word. In a flash, his hand gripped your chin, turning you towards him. His other hand rested on the back of your head, pulling you into a kiss.

It was your first kiss in a year and a half, a kiss that was full of rage and passion like you had never experienced before. Satoru’s kiss was for show, but fuck, it had your knees buckling. You matched his pace, kissing him back urgently. His hands tangled in your hair while you fisted his shirt. You prayed that this mini-makeout session was enough to fool your ex. Satoru pulled away to glare at Toji. His chest rose and fell as he slowly licked his bottom lip with a smirk.

“My girlfriend and I were just getting ready to bed, if you caught the drift. If she wants to talk to you tomorrow, she’ll find you. Later.” Without another word, Satoru slammed the door in Toji’s face before turning to face you.

”Wow.” Was all you could manage to say as you ran your fingers over your lips. Seeing you do that while hearing your breathless voice had Satoru fifty shades of red. In his whole career as an escort, he has never lost his cool like that until he was with you.

Oh, he was fucked.

(TBC)

[royalsunshinehotel]

talkin' rings and talkin' cradles ( The Kid x escort!reader, 18+)

Something was different, in all of the months he came to see you, he’d been a gentleman. He’d never pushed you, only kept his hands where you wanted them, and he never, ever hid from you. Now, after a month of no contact, and begging the Gods for his safety, he was right here, hiding. 

No, maybe that wasn’t true. He was just different. 

Over a month, you’d heard nothing. You thought, for a moment, that he’d gotten bored of you, most men who came to see you did eventually, but deciding that perhaps he’d died hurt your heart less. It was all men were good for, after all. 

But here he was, in the back room, eerily calm. Of course it was him, you’d know him anywhere. Tall, broad, a black suit, and a white ape mask covering his beautiful face. You knew it was him under there, but he held himself differently. His shoulders held back, like he wanted to be seen when he walked into a room. 

“What’s happened? Talk to me.” You almost beg him, there was a time you’d have worried you were asking for too much. But not here, not with him. You hear a small sigh under the mask, and it makes your hair stand on end. 

“Was it a fight?” You’d seen him at Tiger’s Temple, you knew how badly he needed to be hit, and hit hard. What if he’d quit pulling his punches. Maybe he’d knocked someone out he hadn’t meant to? What if - 

Your anxiety sits on your chest, digging in deeper, but is cut off by him, slowly, steady as ever, he took your shaky palm in his hand, bringing it up to the mask, as if to kiss it. Of course your hair stands on end, even the lightest touch from him left you shaking. For a moment, you think of other men, the ones who paid to fuck you, and how they’d die to see you like this - obedient, soft, trained.

They didn’t matter, and never would. 

He lets you fall to your knees. You look up at him like he was that western God he’d heard so much about. He knows he’s an absolute fool for coming to see you. It would be the last time, he just had to see you, he just had to tell you … 

And it’s gone. Any plan he’d made of what he’d say evaporated the moment you put your hands on him. 

You were quick with your hands, always, and it dazzled him, just like the rest of you does. 

He breathes heavily through the mask, trying not to crumble at your feet…again…He shouldn’t have left you alone for so long, completely unprotected, with these people. It wasn’t fair. Nothing about this was fair. He shivers lightly, as you expose him to the cold air in the room, and slowly stroke him, firmly and evenly, as if that would hide your own hunger. 

With a short, rough lick to his tip, he’s in pieces. He could sit and ponder the hold you had on him, but he wouldn’t. He’d had enough time to think. 

You take his hands in your own, and put one large, warm palm in your hair. He doesn’t do it himself, so you’ll have to do it for him. You always felt he was far away whenever you had him like this, you wouldn’t allow that this time. 

He, on the other hand, was too busy gazing at you, cock in your hand, begging for attention, and your sweet face totally focused on him. What did he do to deserve this attention? What had he done that warranted such care? 

Your breath on his throbbing muscle feels like fire, it’s quite a contrast to the rest of you. He’d gotten used to your manner, but the way you completely softened to him felt like an honor. You lick lightly, and he grinds his teeth together. Teasing him brought you such joy. You couldn’t imagine a world where everything he passed didn’t fall at his feet and beg for attention, same as you. 

Enough now, you think, as you end it. 

A small puff of air through your nose, and he has to brace himself on the wall behind the two of you. 

You fuck him with your throat. It’s what he deserves. 

The ridges in your mouth drag mercilessly against his member. Your nails dig into his hips, your tears stream freely down your face, and you're determined to have your fill. He’d never spilled in your mouth before, and he wouldn’t today. Even if it would be the last time. 

You whine, just a little, as he lays a warm, wide palm on your shoulder, a little signal to stop. The fold between your brows deepens, you want to taste him but all he ever does is deny you. 

The white ape stares at you, blankly, only a hint of him underneath. He helps you off your knees, and you can’t remember why you were scowling.

He puts his injured palm against your cheek, and your chest is suddenly filled with feathers. He’s always so gentle with you, and you can't stand it.

Your makeup smeared, you grip his shoulders and press yourself against him, reaching up to grab that stupid white ape mask, pulling it off his face.

He looked better than when he'd last come to you, his face a little more round, like he'd smiled at some point since the last time you'd seen him. 'Better' was a good look for him, but the unbearable sadness remained the same.

He knows you see write through him, taking a fist of your hair, pulling your head back firmly, tracing up your throat with his tongue, only meeting your mouth when you keen for it, brushing your nose against his own.

He'd never make you beg, that doesn't mean you wouldn't

Your eyes roll, mouth falling open as he pushes slowly, confidently, inside of you. You allow him to coo at you, “always so good for me, such a good girl,” and you nip at the hand he’s resting on the side of your face. 

You help him, as he moves you like he pleases, humming as he puts your legs over his shoulders, trying to hit deep. You want to keep him and his formidable cock hostage. Maybe you should.

He starts slowly, softly, praising you all the while.

"I've missed you terribly, have you missed me?" You nod, lovely warmth seeping out of every pore.

He thinks, for a moment, about his revenge, and he twitches inside of you. You don’t know a thing, that’s by design. You’re perfectly drunk on his cock, his fierce lover, completely sweet and soft. It makes him insane, the privilege you'd given him.

"Ah - You always take me so well, fit around me just right. Thank you," You put your thumb in his mouth, where it belongs.

Kid wants to tell you that he’ll keep going. He’ll keep fighting, that he can save enough to get the two of you out of the city. You wouldn’t know a moment of worry for him again. 

He says nothing, tears stream down your face as he ruts into you, eyes glazed over as he takes a heated love bite out of your neck.

For a moment, you see yourself in a year - hopefully less, in a different bed, body changed by him, comfortable now. Maybe even free. Maybe you're retired. Maybe you've gone back to laundry, working like your mother, before you were taken away.

Kid rolls the sensitive flesh of your breasts with his burned fingers, watching you twitch against the wall. Your sad little whines sounds like music, and he can't tell you how he lives to hear it.

With your back arched in a silent scream, you shatter. Lost in heaven. 

You drift - vaguely feeling him pound into you, chasing right behind. Your breasts bounce with each thrust, as if it only makes him hungrier. You think about the first time you did this, how you had to put his hands on you, to let him roam as he pleased. He dared now, he roams all over, and he pleases you by pleasing himself. 

Good, you think. 

"Jaana?" He calls to you from far away, voice rough, "Have I hurt you?" You feel him sigh as you smile at him, stunned. He’s still pulsing inside of you, and he’s asking how you are? 

The heat of him makes you wriggle to get closer, and he almost laughs. Almost. You couldn’t get closer without becoming one, he wishes it was possible. 

“No, you haven’t.” You hum,  pressing your face into his neck, and inhaling. He chuckles lightly, and you want to drown in the rumble. Even after letting a stranger devour you, he still fucks you more sweetly than anyone ever has. Or ever will.

Face buried in your neck, your wrists tight in his grasp, you pray to yourself that he’ll stay with you. That he’ll stay overnight, and the two of you can be something more than what you were.

His grip on you tightens, safely stepping forward, and lowering you back on to a worn out mattress. He doesn't like to have you there. Your clawing grip on the back of his neck doesn’t release, your body won’t allow you to let him go. He doesn’t mind. 

He leans down to kiss you like he loves you, and that was far too dangerous to dwell on. 

[uglypastels]

Caught Me Slippin' | escort!eddie au

(a/n) yes, this fic is based on the Kiss Quotient, and, therefore also Pretty Woman. Thanks to everyone who voted on the poll for me to work on this fic. I had a lot of fun with it! So, even though its a bit all over the place, haha, I hope you still like it.

If you want to see more of this fic, please send an ask and we can chat about it but Do Not Ask For Part 2. This is a One Shot.

Summary: [modern!au] feeling insecure about your skills in bed, you decide to find someone who could help you learn. Except, when the guy actually shows up, a mistake seems to have occurred. Fortunately, you're both quite adaptable (or, at least, you try to be), and the night quickly takes off into unexpected territories.

Word count: 13.2k

Warnings: SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY. dual POV. rich!female!reader. shorter than Eddie. self-consciousness. slight miscommunication - quickly resolved. swearing. drinking. awkwardness. [mention of infidelity, side characters]. non-monogamous relationship. smut. male sex work (obviously). slight dom! Eddie. inexperienced!reader. mentions of bdsm- bondage, sadomasochism. nipple piercings. nipple play. fingering. oral (f receiving). light pussy slapping. Eddie has an innocence kink. I'm probably not representing sex work 100% accurately, but this is [fan]fiction. You should always take it with a grain of salt. + apparently, kind of angsty, idk i guess I'm dead inside.

if you think I'm missing any warnings, please let me know, and I'll add them. if you do not like the sound of any of these- then this is not for you. do not read.

All the errors left unlearned, oh

But I am the luckiest guy

Not the loneliest guy in the world

- David Bowie, The Loneliest Guy

What the hell were you doing? 

Sitting at a bar, which was mistake number two. One of many, for that matter. The third was ordering a drink you knew you wouldn’t drink but had picked when panic swooped over you as the bartender walked up. The red liquid looked quite pretty, but you could smell the alcohol the second the girl put the glass in front of you. An attempt at a sip was made, and you brought it to your lips, but the bitterness overwhelmed you. 

There was one thing you had gotten right, and that was at least picking a bar that wasn’t crowded. The music played at just the right volume, and people kept to themselves, to their booths and their tables. You tried to let your mind wander off, not to overthink– that would only cause more anxiety– but it always went back to what the people around you were talking about. You never meant to be nosy, and you never butted in… but it was entertaining what random strangers had to say to each other.

— You’re shitting me. 

— No, I’m serious. Sarah told me herself. She walked in, and there he was, fucking their pool boy. 

The table behind you erupted in a chorus of gasps. 

— Poor Sarah, though. 

— Yeah, well, she had been sleeping with her yoga instructor. 

How were people so comfortable talking about such things in public? Where everyone could listen in? You almost felt bad for this Sarah that her complicated marriage was being shared with the entirety of this small bar, surely then retold all across the city.

You glanced around you, side to side. The bar counter was quite long, with enough space for eight barstools to stand next to each other. Besides yours, four more were occupied. Having opted for the last chair, you were worried about someone sitting on one of your neighbouring chairs, but luck had been in your favour.

That is, until he showed up. 

Your first, and probably, the biggest mistake that you made that night.

♤

From the second that Eddie sat down beside her, he could tell something was wrong. He always could with such things. As well as assume what might have been the cause of the problem. 

Her eyes widened, nearly doubled in size, as he sat down next to her. He couldn’t have made a mistake; she had sent what she would look like and be wearing, and the description was accurate. She should have known what Eddie would look like as well; that’s basically what the whole selection was based on, look, and yet… the way she stared at him… he had the urge to wave his hand in front of her to make sure she wasn’t going into shock. 

‘Hey,’ instead, he opted for a kind smile as he leaned against the bar, asking for a quick confirmation of her name, and took a moment to take her in properly while she defrosted and returned to reality.  She was cute, to his surprise, definitely not the type he would usually be coming across these nights. Pretty and young, but mostly, shy. The bar was definitely not in her comfort zone, and he had picked up on that the second he noticed het sitting there, back stiff in nerves, drink untouched except for the little straw she stirred around in circles mindlessly. At first, he thought, maybe it’s all an act. The shy and naive girl next door, he was into it, but no. Now he knew better; she was terrified. 

A few seconds later, when his eyes moved back up to her face, she spoke her first words. 

‘Who are you?’

♤

There had been a mistake. There must have been. Whoever the guy sitting next to you was, he was not the guy you had paid for. 

Jesus that sounded so stupid. How could you have been so dumb thinking it was a good idea to hire a guy for the night. As if that would make you feel better, make all your problems disappear. 

The man blinked in confusion. Your reaction had clearly been a surprise. As he stumbled over his words, you took him in quickly. 

Long brown hair fell over his shoulders in messy waves. He had layered up, but not for practicality. You couldn’t see how the leather jacket or the denim vest over a thin t-shirt would help him against the evening cold, not to mention his ribbed jeans. Overall he looked like he had been directly cut out of an 80s rock magazine. Sure, some women must be into that kind of look; you couldn’t even deny he was pretty attractive, but it was not what you had wanted. Not for now. You needed something simple. Comfortable. Easy.

Those large rings and metal chains were most definitely not comfortable. Or simple. Or easy. 

Oh god. 

♤

‘I’m Eddie,’ he stated, hoping it would clear something up, but her confused stare didn’t falter. ‘Didn’t you book…’ Eddie knew all the people around him were poking their noses into everyone’s business, so he tried to pick his words wisely, ‘... the appointment?’ Fuck, did he walk up to the wrong girl? He knew it would have been too good to be true to get an actual girl his age. People always lied on these forms. He was ready to apologise and walk away, but she answered. 

‘I did.’ Her eyes wavered again over him. ‘But not you. There must have been some kind of mistake, I–’ 

‘Is everything good here?’ The bartender walked up, towel across her shoulder, her piercing blue eyes digging right through Eddie. Her question had been directed at the girl, and she nodded quickly. 

‘All good, just a little misunderstanding.’ 

‘Alright then,’ The bartender sent Eddie another suspicious look before heading to the other side of the counter to take another order. This was fucking fantastic. Yeah, just great. 

♤

‘Ok, so who did you think you were meeting?’ Eddie asked when the woman behind the bar walked away, slightly backing away from you, letting his shoulders fall.

You tried to remember the name of the guy who caught your attention last evening. Would the name mean anything to Eddie? You didn’t expect all these guys to hang around together...

‘Shit, yeah, ok, that makes sense.’ You could see all the puzzle pieces coming together behind his eyes. ‘He’s out on a date tonight as well. They must have sent us each other’s… wait,’ he quickly grabbed his phone. 

♤

Eddie searched through his emails. It didn’t take long to ignore the few spam messages he had gotten since this morning. And there it was. The booking confirmation he had received. Having gotten them so often, he had read it on autopilot, not even realising that his own name was missing. All he had needed, he thought, was his client’s information. But there it was, literally the first two words of the email: Dear Steve… 

Oh, the office would have a field day with this. 

But some of him also could not wait to ask Steve how his date went. 

♤

‘Yeah, they fucked it up,’ after a few seconds, Eddie had turned his phone around to show you an email. Even though you only needed the first two words to understand the mistake that occurred, you took the time to read as much of it as possible to make sure it was real. From what you could tell, it seemed legit. Just what business operated solemnly through emails… and apparently, not even automated ones. 

‘I’m really sorry for the inconvenience,’ Eddie apologised as he pulled his phone back and placed it into his pocket. ‘I can call the office and get you a refund. I promise you that this is usually nothing of the standard we usually operate at.’ You appreciated his professionalism. Despite never thinking you were that judgemental, perhaps you had actually judged him a bit too harshly at first glance. And he was quite attractive… 

‘No, wait,’ you stopped him before he could dial the number of his boss, or whoever was in charge. ‘Uhm… did your… friend… send you something? About his date?’ Steve was now, of course, also on the wrong job. Eddie looked up at you for a second, before glancing down again at his phone to check his notifications. 

‘No, haven’t heard anything from him. I guess the other person didn’t seem to care which one of us they got.’ he chuckled, which surprised you. Did other people not care about who they slept with? You get to pick a person for a reason, don’t you? 

‘I don’t need a refund.’ You stated after a short moment. Eddie glanced up once more.

‘Are you sure? It’s a lot of money–’ 

‘No, I mean, I would like to continue the night… with you.’ This was, for sure, getting out of your comfort zone, right? Being adventurous, getting a life, all that shit your friends nagged you about for years. Eddie smiled with the corner of his mouth. 

‘Alright then, would you like to get out of here?’ 

‘Yes, please,’ you let out a sigh of relief. Thankfully, the volume in the space picked up quite a lot as more people entered, drowning out your conversation, but it was getting a bit too much for you. ‘Just… one minute.’ you stood up, heading to the bathroom, but Eddie called your attention for one more second. 

‘You forgot your purse.’ he looked down at the ground where your bag was lying. You gave him an awkward smile and picked it up before making your way to the back of the bar.

Closing the stall door behind you, you wished for some decent internet; thankfully, it wasn’t the worst. You didn’t bother trying to be quick about it. There was no doubt in your mind that he knew you were looking him up online. With shaking hands, you typed in the name of the agency where you had found Steve. They had a list of all their “models”, as they nicely labelled them, and you scrolled through them. There was the guy you had planned on spending the night with. You had picked him because he looked sweet, and hot, obviously, but with enough cockiness thrown in the mix to tell you he knew what he was doing. And the little sales pitch the website had written up for him to sell the fantasy worked well. You didn’t bother rereading it now, but it was something to do with “the sweet jock that knows how to take care of his girl”. It was extremely cheesy, you were more than aware of that, but cheesy was good. It was safe. 

Your friends would have probably laughed at you. 

They probably would have picked out a guy like Eddie. 

Speaking of the guy waiting for you at the bar, you found his profile. First thing first, the picture. That was definitely him; you recognised the unruly dark hair and brown eyes. He had several photos posted in his profile, like most of the men on the website, and they were of semi-professional quality: self-taken, but with a very nice camera and lighting. He had put effort into his presentation. First, there was the portrait, showing his handsome face, shirtless but cropped to the shoulder, revealing enough of the silver chain around his neck but not showing what was actually hanging off it. 

The following picture was a full-body pose, with clothes on that were not significantly different from the ones he was wearing now. No denim vest, but a different leather jacket on top of a black shirt. Dark denim jeans with a belt, buckled by what looked like to be steel handcuffs… had he been wearing that tonight as well? 

Your throat tightened up as you swiped to the next post, which was, of course, the obligatory nude. All the “models” had to have them, since that was basically what people paid for. If it wasn’t for the fact that the site saw itself as one of the “classier” agencies out there, the naked pictures would have been the only ones available. You, for one, appreciated the variety. 

Eddie was posed on a bed, on his knees. With one hand in his hair, and the other over his thigh, he didn’t leave anything to the imagination. Despite not even looking at the camera, the smug smile on his face told you he knew exactly what he was doing. He got you looking, and he knew you liked it. Yet, what you couldn’t stop looking at were the tattoos that covered his pale skin. Dozens of them, at least, varying in size and style, covering most of his arms, upper legs, ribs…

You scrolled on, remembering he was still waiting for you outside, but the next picture didn’t make anything better. 

It had been a session shot. You had stumbled across similar ones on your initial look at the website. The men posing out the act of some kind of intercourse. Different positions, different actions, whatever described their style in the profession. For Eddie, that included the shot of a naked woman in bed, the same bed in which he had taken the previous picture. Her limbs were spread apart, tied to the bed corners. Her eyes were covered with a black and white bandana, and the rest of the features tightened in bliss as Eddie was positioned between her legs. His mouth was right at her core. If that wasn’t enough, he had put some props up on display next to the woman; some extra handcuffs, a vibrator and what you assumed to be a flogger. 

What the hell were you getting yourself into?

♤

She returned after a few minutes, and Eddie could immediately tell his assumption was right. The poor thing couldn’t look him in the face. She sat back down on the barstool, holding onto her purse, lip between her teeth and eyes on anything but him. Yeah, she had looked him up. 

In all honesty, he thought it was a good thing. He didn’t care for people who didn’t do their research into things. Saying that, as quite a spontaneous person, you couldn’t jump into things head first all the time. Sometimes, it was important to test the waters. Make sure there were no sharks swimming around.

‘I paid for your drink,’ Eddie remembered. She looked at him, stunned. 

‘Oh, you really didn’t have to.’ Did she seem apologetic? 

‘Please, its the least I can do, for, you know, being the wrong guy and all.’ He smiled, hoping she would return the favour. The corner of her mouth curved up the smallest amount, still quite unsure of the situation. 

‘Really, I–’ she was ready to get her wallet, most likely pay him back, but Eddie stopped her by placing his hand over hers. That made her freeze, look back up at him. Eddie felt two pairs of eyes on him. Hers, and the bartender behind him, most definitely reassessing the whole situation. Everything about this evening was going to shit. He could probably wave his perfect 5-star rating goodbye, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but he for sure as hell was not going to get put on any registers tonight. However, trying to seduce a stranger into bed with him when he is so clearly not the type for this girl… why was he even trying so hard?

He didn’t like using the term “vanilla”, it got too much of a bad rep, but that is what she seemed to be. Her clothes weren’t flashy, not even considering for “outgoing”. She wasn’t the type to go out and hook up, let alone get an escort. He wasn’t surprised she had decided to go for a guy like Steve. But Steve wasn’t here; Eddie was. He now had the job of taking care of this girl in any way she wanted him to.

‘Ok, shall we?’ She took a deep breath as she got up. 

‘Are you–’ maybe they should talk about this? He didn’t want her to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with. 

‘C’mon,’ next thing he knew, she grabbed Eddie by the wrist and whisked him off the barstool, dragging him along outside. It was early in the year, but late in the evening. The air was crispy, and the wind blew harshly. Eddie had definitely not dressed warm enough for the night, but that would have been an understatement for her. She would freeze in a few minutes. 

‘I got a room in the hotel just across the corner,’ she spoke, rather determined. Some people might have mistaken it for confidence, but Eddie saw the other signs. Her clenched jaw, her consistent avoidance of eye contact… she was putting on a brave face. And that’s how people get into situations they don’t want to be in. 

If it had been warmer, he would have stopped them on the street, but he had to get her out of the cold, so he let the girl drag him across the sidewalk to the hotel's entrance. It was big. The warm lighting reflecting off of all the decor, giving it a golden glow.��

She did not stop walking until they reached the elevator. She clicked the button, and the arrow above the doors pointed down. The numbers slowly descended from 14. 

‘I know you looked me up.’ Eddie started, having no idea how to introduce the topic fluently. 

‘Ok.’ She was biting her lip nervously. 

‘So I know you know what my usual gig is.’ They both watched the numbers go down. 7… 6… 

‘So we’re on the same page.’ She glanced up at him; he could see it in the reflection of the metal doors. 

‘I don’t think we are.’ The elevator pinged open as Eddie said so. They walked inside. 

‘What do you mean?’ She finally looked him in the eye, only momentarily, but he saw that some of her fear slowly faded as she pressed the button to her floor. 15. 

‘That, yes, I usually am pretty rough with my clients,’ he couldn’t hide the smile on his face, but could anyone blame him? He enjoyed his work. ‘But that’s because they want me to be rough.’ He looked at her intensely. Not to intimidate her, but to show her the seriousness of his words. ‘I don’t do anything that you don’t want me to do. You paid for an evening with… well, not me, but it’s all the same. If you get your money’s worth from a good pounding, I’m more than happy to oblige. From cuddling and watching a movie? All fine by me.’ 

♤

It’s all the same. 

But it wasn’t, was it? They weren’t all the same. 

‘What about you?’ you asked just as the elevator opened on your floor. Eddie let you walk through first. Now, you couldn’t look away from him, letting your head almost spin around a whole 360 to get your glance at him. 

‘What about me?’ He had his hands in his pockets. Suddenly there didn’t seem to be anything scary about him. His hair was soft. His jacket, while not exactly winter-weather proof, looked cozy. The patches on his vest were hand sawn. With an image of him sitting at home, sewing them on, one by one, you got a sudden urge to ask about them, but who did that? Surely, in your situation, questions like that were out of bounds. 

‘What do you like?’ 

‘That doesn’t matter,’ he chuckled, which confused you. 

‘Doesn’t it? I might not be the most knowledgeable about the whole sex thing, but… shouldn’t both people involved be getting off? Doesn’t that make it better?’ You had reached your door. Weirdly, from having focused on the conversation as you walked, you didn’t feel any nerves unlocking the door. The room was dark, and you switched the light on. The nerves still didn’t bubble up. You could do it.

‘I suppose so– wait, you’re not a virgin, are you?’ 

You shook your head no. 

‘Ok. not that there is anything wrong with that. Everyone’s living life at their own pace, I just don’t feel comfortable with that kind of responsibility. No one’s first time should be with….’ 

‘A professional?’ you raised your eyebrow, suggesting a possibly more classy term for what he wanted to say. 

‘Nice.’ He smiled, and made his way over to the bed. You watched him get comfortable on the edge as you took off your light jacket. Your arms were freezing from the cold air outside, but the hotel room was cosy. Not to mention, the nerves were heating you up once more by the second. This was it. Eddie spread his legs wide, almost calling for your eyes to look at his thighs and how they stretched the material of the jeans. 

When your eyes moved back up to his face, you were terrified to see that he was staring right back at you, devouring you with his gaze. He definitely saw you checking him out. But it was becoming harder to concentrate when you looked at how his large hand grazed over the faint stubble on his face. 

‘C’mere,’ he said with a nod, and thoughtlessly, you followed his order. Eddie took you by both hands once you were close enough and placed them on his shoulders, then let his hands settle on your waist. His eyes found yours for a quick check. When you gave him the green light with a smile, he immediately mirrored it and asked: ‘what were your plans for this magical evening?’ He briefly tightened his grip on you and kept moving his hands up and down lightly as you tried to respond. As if that wasn’t hard enough with his eyes staring deep into you. 

‘No, uhm, nothing special.’ You didn’t need special. Special meany complicated, and you just needed someone to help you out with the basics. 

‘Making it special is kind of my one job, you know,’ he pulled you in for a hug so that his face was only a few inches away from your stomach. His arms now enveloped your frame, hands comfortably positioned over your ass. A complete stranger was hiking up the hem of your shirt, touching your bare skin underneath it. ‘So, what is it that you want?’ When he pulled up enough of your shirt to actually reveal the skin underneath, he placed a soft kiss on your side. That feeling alone felt electric. He kept on leaving fluttering kisses over your middle. It was a strange sensation as well as a pleasing one. So simple, and yet it had a great effect that you couldn’t quite explain. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as you tried to concentrate on Eddie’s question as his kisses continued. What did you want from this night? But should you tell him the complete truth? Wasn’t there some way to avoid the embarrassing details? Then again… how could he ever help you with your needs if he didn’t know what they were?

‘I want…’ you gasped lightly when his teeth grazed your skin. For some reason, that pushed you over the edge to just put everything you worried about out there. You were already here, in this hotel room, with him. Fuck it. 

♤

‘I want you to help me be good at sex.’ 

Eddie didn’t mean to stop. He saw in her reaction that that had been the wrong thing to do. She must have seen his widened eyes and taken it for judgement, while really, it had just been a small surprise. He wasn’t exactly used to people asking him to teach them how to have sex. 

‘Sorry, uhm, nevermind. Just ignore me.’ She scratched at her neck while looking away. That won’t do. Eddie had to fix this before they would do anything else. 

‘No, wait. Let’s… let’s talk this through for a moment.’ He led her by the hand and let her sit on the bed next to him. ‘Get comfortable. Is there anything in the minibar?’ he noticed the small fridge in the closet across the room and hoped she would understand his question to ask permission to use the service provided in the room. 

‘Go ahead, take anything you want.’ 

‘Living large, are we?’ He cocked his brow before making his way over to the minibar. The selection of drinks was quite understated for a place like they were in. two cheap beers, a small bottle of champagne and two sodas. From what he had gathered at the bar, she didn’t seem to be a big drinker, so he grabbed a beer and a soda can. ‘Here.’

‘Oh, thanks.’ She didn’t look up at him as she took the can from him. Fuck, what was she embarrassed for? He doubted she would speak up in the conversation by herself, so just started out with a question. ‘Why do you think you need help with sex?’ She said she wasn’t a virgin, so she’s had experience. With a glance at her hands, he saw no ring or sign of regular wear of one. That, of course, didn’t exclude the option of a boyfriend or a partner. Maybe even a guy she just wanted to impress. The possibilities were endless, and for some strange reason, at the thought of her having sex with someone else, a strange feeling started gnawing at Eddie’s guts. 

‘Because I’ve had sex a few times and so far it’s been awful.’ She sighed. ‘But I know that, to get better at it, I would have to go and endure endless dates to find a guy who would want to sleep with me, but then what if I do meet a great guy but just put him off because I’m shit in the sack?’

‘Don’t you believe that, if you did really find the right guy, he would help you? Or not even mind your alleged lack of skills “in the sack”?’ Eddie asked, taking a sip of beer. She just looked at him with a look that told him everything. Right. Men are egoistic scum. She had a point.

‘Sorry, you must think I’m insane.’  She tapped on the top of the can. The metal ticking sounded hollow in the quiet room. 

‘I really don’t.’ If it wasn’t for the fact that he had a moral spine, he would have happily told her about some of his other clients. 

‘Yeah, but I’m just wasting your time talking your ears off with absolute nonsense,’ she tried to laugh at it, lessen the tension. 

Eddie leaned over the bed on his elbow. ‘Don’t you know that escorts are the new therapists?’ 

‘Wasn’t that bartenders?’

‘I brought you your drink, didn’t I? Call it a 2-for-1 combo deal.’ He put his beer in the air for a toast and took another sip. ‘And I was serious earlier. You already paid for the whole night, so I’m all yours, sweetheart’ He hoped that didn’t sound dismissive. The last thing he wanted to do (again) was to upset or offend this girl, who genuinely looked and seemed amazing. The idea of her not being able to find someone for herself, having to go down the process of finding someone like him to make her feel good… 

‘Are all the guys at your agency this nice?’ she looked up from the lip of her can, bringing his mind back into the room.

‘No, Steve is a giant dick,’ Eddie laughed.

‘Right, while you have one,’ she teased.

‘Ha. Funny.’ He pointed at her in appreciation before taking a sip of the beer. ‘But I suppose you’re not wrong.’ She had seen his pictures; she knew what he had in stock. He wondered what she thought of it– sure, she might not have been ready for his regular repertoire, but that didn’t mean “never”.  But what he wanted to know the most, which felt like the biggest surprise, was what did she think of him? For the first time since he started this gig, he wondered what she thought of his appearance. Did she like his tattoos? Was his hair too long, maybe? Were his clothes too shabby? Perhaps it was because she had not actually picked him. She had chosen Steve.

Oh, Stevie. They couldn’t be more different. 

‘Are you sure you’re ok with me… being here?’

♤

‘I am.’ You didn’t know what else to reply to that question. Of course, the night was not going anything like you had expected. Until two hours ago, you were planning to have some alright sex with, what you could describe as a “regular hot guy”. Instead, you were on the bed, fully clothed, drinking a coke next to a Metallica reject. Was it too late to still do any of the things you had initially paid for, or was the mood entirely ruined? Did people recover from going into highly personal and dramatic tangents in front of the escort they had hired? 

‘Ok, cool. Just… making sure. Fair warning, I might do that a few more times through the night.’ The idea of still having an entire night to spend with Eddie made you really happy. Even if you didn’t know what to do with him in this small room. With a large king-sized bed in the middle, and not much else but the essential hotel decor, the room was perfect for exactly the reason you had booked it and not much else.

Just as you thought it was getting a bit too quiet between the two of you and had wanted to speak up with a question, Eddie opened his mouth to say something as well. So you also simultaneously apologised and let the other person say their piece. 

‘No, go ahead,’ you nudged him. Whatever he had to say would probably lead the conversation better.

‘I was just wondering, when you said “help be good with sex”, which aspect are we talking about here? Just regular? Oral? Foreplay? Like, what are we talking about here?’

‘Uhm, pretty much everything.’ You winced at yourself. So far, all your attempts at intercourse had been not great. It always felt awkward and uncomfortable. The guys would get what they were there for and didn’t feel the need to wait around for more. And if it kept on happening, then the math was simple, wasn’t it? Just look at what the overlapping factor was in all the situations. It was eventually your friends one night, after a few bottles of wine, who suggested the idea of just hiring a guy to teach you what to do. It would be so much easier. No feelings, and they know what they are doing. Foolproof plan. 

And somehow, you still managed to make things complicated and weird. 

♤

‘Now see, I don’t believe that,’ Eddie smiled. There was no way she didn’t know how to do anything. Especially since most of it was just pure instinct. There is a reason why people call it “messing around”, and it’s not because of any guide or formula that one should be working off of to get it right. 

‘Well, then you should ask the other guys.’ Again with that little smile, trying to undermine her own feelings. 

‘No, fuck them. I bet they didn’t even make you cum.’ He accused. Her lack of response was enough of an answer. Eddie could bet his entire wage that she thought it was her fault they didn’t get her to climax and that… that actually pissed him off. How often had he had his clients tell him how their husbands, the men supposed to take care of them, never bothered to fulfil their one simple and honestly fucking delicious duty? A thought sparked in his mind, and he couldn’t keep back the grin that sprouted up with it. 

‘What?’ she asked at the sight of his smile. 

‘Have you ever?’

‘Ever what?’

‘Had a climax?’ 

‘Oh,’ the way she got shy talking about it, to Eddie’s embarrassment, turned him on. The best thing was they didn’t even have to play pretend. ‘I mean, I think?’

‘You think?’ He raised an eyebrow. 

‘Yeah, sorry,’ she cleared her throat, ‘Uhm… I’ll just be right back.’ And having said that, she ran to the bathroom. 

As she closed the door, Eddie pondered on the idea of undressing. It would speed things up, possibly breaking the icy wall that closed her off. With one naked person in the room, it was hard to think about much else, which meant less to worry about. But he didn’t think she would actually appreciate it. No, she needed to take it slow. And he would happily guide her through it all. 

♤

You splashed some cold water in your face. There had been no reason for you to run out of the room like that except for being a total chicken. The way Eddie was so open and comfortable, talking about all of that… brought out a new fear in you. One you didn’t know you had. One you couldn’t even identify. You just knew you had to get out from under his gaze. Those big brown honey-glazed eyes. 

Why the hell did you leave the room? He was sitting so close to you. Your legs were nearly touching. He still sat with his legs spread, basically inviting you to get between them. And what do you do? Run away. 

You splashed some more water onto your face. 

There wasn’t much makeup on your face to begin the night, and whatever you had left of your mascara and blush was wiped off with the towel you grabbed. One more look in the mirror to ensure no grey ink streaks down your cheeks, and you were ready to get out again. 

Just one big breath in. and out. 

The bathroom door handle moved silently, and you pulled the door open to be met with Eddie’s chest. He was standing right in front of you. 

‘Oh, hi.’ 

‘Hey, just wanted to make sure you were ok in there.’ He knocked on the door frame in a delayed manner for extra effect. Knock knock. You noticed he had taken off his vest and jacket. Just in his t-shirt now. The sleeves ended right at his biceps, revealing the sleeves of tattoos he hid underneath all those removed layers. 

‘So are you alright?’ he asked when you didn’t respond to what he had said earlier. The question pulled your thoughts out of the clouds and your head up to look him in the eye. 

‘Yeah, yeah, just…’ your mouth was extremely dry. One more second and no words would be leaving it ever again. It was just gonna have to come out now. Then, with a quick exhale,  you admitted. ‘I’ve never had an orgasm.’ From Eddie’s reaction, it didn’t seem to have been any news to him. Like it was the most normal conversation, which, given his job, it probably was. You tried to ignore the thought of him and the many women he must have helped. 

‘Well, I would be more than honoured to change that for you.’ He took a step forward, and the proximity forced you to look up at him to see his eyes. 

‘Is that a rehearsed line?’ Apparently, your one outburst of truth led to the pandora’s box in your brain, and now you couldn’t shut up, saying the first thing that came to your mind. And unfortunately, it was still filled with the images of him with other people; him making all of them feel ecstatic. 

Luckily, Eddie laughed at your presumption. His head tilted back, and when it came back down, and his eyes were once again locked in with yours, his lips pulled up into a smirk. One of his hands found its way up to your cheek before he leaned in. you were ready for him to kiss you, but instead, his breath lingered over your skin. So close that you should have been able to touch him, and maybe you did. Because there was something that made your mind a thick haze, impossible to navigate through. Everything spun around you except for Eddie.

‘So what if I did rehearse it?’ his words hit your jaw as he hovered over you, then whispering directly into your, he asked: ‘What if I’ve already planned 10 different ways in which I want to make you writhe underneath me? Would you mind that?’ Would you mind? 

Whatever for? 

In a shaky breath, you spoke the only thing you could think of at the moment. 

‘Kiss me.’ 

♤

Eddie didn’t need to be told twice. 

He must have been grinning like an idiot, and he could only hope it didn’t put her off as he brought their lips together and kissed her. Deeply. Passionately. 

The hair around her face was slightly wet, as was her jaw, telling him she had just spent the last minute splashing water in her face. She tasted sweet, like the coke she had been drinking earlier. 

Her hand crept up to his collar, shyly grabbing at it and pulling it down, revealing the slightest inch of the tattoo on his clavicle. Not that she would see it, having closed her eyes the second their lips connected. 

Eddie let one of his hands find its way back to her waist. Holding on to each other, they stumbled back onto the bed. She let out a whimper as Eddie’s knees hit the edge of the bed, and he fell backwards, taking her right down with him. 

It was a slow tear-away, leaving both in a haze. Eddie watched her sit up straight, straddling him and keeping him locked. If she moved, she would feel how hard he was getting. 

‘I assume kissing was not on the agenda of the lesson?’ He brushed some of his hair out of his face. 

‘Well, if you have any tips–’ she tugged at the bottom of her shirt. A nervous habit, probably, but all Eddie could think about was how he wanted that material as far away from her as possible. 

‘You’re joking, right?’ She must have been. The kiss, though brief, had been… he felt alive after it. His chest was tight as he caught his breath. ‘Fuck, c’mere.’ He pulled her right back. It might have only been one kiss, but it had been more than enough for him. He was already hooked. 

♤

His lips were slightly chapped, but not in any way to make you feel uncomfortable. Nothing that some chapstick before going out into the cold couldn’t solve. You could smell the bitter beer he had just drank, and despite the drink having been cooled, it brought a warmth out in you. This heat swam over your cheeks and the parts of you that he held close. His hands were now back to playing with your shirt. The material was creeping up over your stomach, up up up…

♤

‘Can you take your shirt off first, please?’ she asked nervously once the second kiss parted. Her small voice sent sparks flying down Eddie’s body, directly to his dick.

‘Yeah, ‘course.’ All he could do was smile. She shuffled down his legs to give him space and remove the shirt. There was no way she didn’t feel how tight he was getting in his trousers, but she didn’t show any reaction to it, eyes focused on his chest. Eddie looked down at himself. He had almost forgotten about those. 

‘You have piercings?’ 

He kept on forgetting to update his pictures on the website. It was such a hassle. Taking the time to plan it all in, preferably with someone else, so he could have some action shots. There was the editing, and then he would have to send them into the office so someone could actually upload them… he just couldn’t be bothered. As much as he was meant to keep his clients aware of what they were paying for, it was selfish of him to love their surprised reactions. Just now, the way her eyes immediately locked in on them in surprise. How her hand lightly fought against reaching for him. 

‘You can touch them. It doesn’t hurt.’ He took her hand and placed it right over his chest. She immediately regained control over her body, and her finger lightly traced over the silver bar. Eddie’s body tightened for a second in bliss. ‘See? It feels fucking good, actually.’ He hadn’t meant to whisper the words out or for them to be so shaky. It was supposed to be a light joke to keep the tension away, yet it pulled the atmosphere down to something intense and sultry. Hopefully, it wouldn’t scare her away.

But she smiled and leaned in again for a featherlight kiss. Fuck, she could kiss. It was like a gift from the gods themselves. A little piece of heaven. If this was how she kissed every guy, Eddie couldn’t comprehend how they didn’t line up for more. And then her hand kept moving, slowly tracing the ink on his body. Her fingernails grazed over the drawings. Perhaps it was a placebo, but he had always considered the tattoos to be more sensitive than the rest of him. The soft touches made him shake in need of her. 

‘What do you want me to do?’ he asked, nearly out of breath, mind spiralling with everything he wanted to do to her. He couldn’t keep it in a straight line anymore. Meanwhile, he was supposed to be the professional here. Meanwhile, she expected him to teach her… he was absolutely fucked. 

And then her following words only made his situation worse. 

‘Just tell me what to do, Eddie.’ Somehow, he missed the exact moment when her lips travelled down to his jaw. It must have been some kind of joke– there was no way this incredible woman did not know what she was doing. 

‘Fuck, baby.’ He groaned. He actually groaned. Eddie never did that during his sessions. It just wasn’t something he thought he could do with his clients. It turns out he had never been this turned on by any of them.

It made sense. How often did he think up hour scenarios before meeting the ladies? How often did he imagine he was with someone else? He had thought that maybe, because of the rules of his job and the frequency of his sessions, that maybe sex just wasn’t really anything for him. Not that he didn’t enjoy his job or regretted ever going into the business… money was good, and he was good at what he did. Yet, it was still a job. And jobs could often tire a person out. Maybe he had become desensitised to it all. 

But this proved all of his theories wrong. He was entirely in the moment. Aware of everything that was happening between him and her. Nothing between them was new, or necessarily exciting, and yet it felt like nothing he had felt before. Nothing but kissing sent him down a road he could never return from. 

And now she wanted him to tell her what to do. Yes, in the teaching context, he understood. But was she even aware that this would not be that far from the ordinary things he did in his sessions if they had just removed that context? Just add in some leather and handcuffs. 

‘Take your clothes off, baby.’ He spoke softly, not wanting to roll back into his regular role. This wasn’t that, he reminded himself. He didn’t want it to be that. 

When she started to pull her shirt up, he quickly took over. ‘No, wait, go slower. Take your time.’ Fuck, please take your time, he internally cried out. He didn’t want this night to end. It all felt like a dream, and he didn’t want to get dressed and wake up. He didn’t want to leave because once he did, coming back was not an option for him. 

♤

You followed his instruction, slowly pulling your shirt over your head. Focusing on him. Looking at him prevented you from getting too much into your head. After all, it was hard to think or worry about anything with someone like him, half-naked, under you. You traced his tattoos. They were all black and white, the ink scratchy and uneven on most as if done at home.

Not precisely stick and poke, but not from a studio either. A pull at your heartstrings made you think of how much money you had paid. How much he needed that money… See, hard to think of your own insecurities when looking at him.

Eddie moved up to lean on his elbow. You were sitting still for too long; he must have sensed something was off. With a gentle touch, he stroke your bare skin. You were both shirtless, though you still had your bra on; his hand was sneakily moving up to the strap over your back, ready to unclasp it.

‘What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, sweetheart.’ It must be some kind of trick he was pulling, something he learned over his experience on the job because of the way your whole body fluttered at the sound of the little nickname… it must be a trick. But there was nothing you could complain about either. 

Once again, your mouth worked faster than your brain, and before you could tell yourself to shut up, you answered with the first question that came to your mind. ‘Do you do anything else… besides this?’ a second later, before he even had the time to react, you butted in with your own response. ‘That is probably way out of bounds. Sorry–’ 

‘Only a little bit,’ he was taking it lightly with a chuckle. Clearly, with no intention of stopping what the two of you had been doing, he littered your jaw and neck with kisses between his answer. ‘I’m in a band. But garage gigs don’t exactly pay the bills.’ You felt him tremble with a laugh against your neck. Eddie had by then sat up and kept you in place on his lap with a tight hold. As he kept kissing you, you let your body speak for itself, closing your eyes and trusting your instincts. Somehow you knew what felt right and what didn’t. Your hips moved of their own accord, grinding against Eddie. You tried not to think about what you were doing, knowing you would just start to freak out and freeze. Instead, you thought of Eddie on stage with his band, imagining him in all the different positions, trying to figure out which instrument fit him best. 

As if he could read your mind, he said, ‘I play guitar.’ His hand had now officially made its mark on your bra, grabbing the backstrap, and wringing it until it unclasped.

‘That’s hot.’

‘Yeah?’ The bra snapped open. Eddie took it upon himself to slide the straps off your arms. You threw the item off to the side of the room, and Eddie didn’t waste a second to bring his attention to your breast.

♤

Had no one ever touched her properly?

All that Eddie did was kiss her tits, and she was almost coming undone. He felt a pang of terrible guilt on behalf of his entire sex. How the fuck did no one make her feel good… not only that. How did men make her feel as if she was the problem? That she had to step her game up and learn. If he ever got his hands on one of those assholes– woah. Calm down. 

♤

‘Yeah,’ you gasped out the small word. ‘So- so hot.’ It was hard to keep a sentence straight when he had his full attention on your nipples.

One preoccupying his lips, while the other was cupped by his large hand. He was rough in his touches, pulling and squeezing, but not in any way that felt too much. On the contrary, you needed more. More of him. 

He switched from one breast to the other in his movements. Then when he pulled away, he kissed you again. Then, he looked you in the eyes, a false seriousness covering his features. 

‘So, let that be lesson one: foreplay. Extremely important before any kind of sex.’ 

‘But… I didn’t do anything?’ You blinked. It was true, wasn’t it? He had been doing most of the work; meanwhile, you hadn’t done anything for him. But Eddie frowned.

‘Oh, baby, you did plenty.’ His hand reached down to his own trousers. ‘You feel this?’ When you hesitated, he took your hand to guide it over his crotch, where you could clearly feel the outline of his dick. ‘Yeah, that’s all you, sweetheart.’ He was so cocky, so confident. 

He kept on talking. ‘And let me ask you one more question.’ For this, he leaned in to almost whisper the words against your hot skin. ‘Are you wet?’ 

‘I don’t know.’ 

Eddie clicked his tongue in disapproval. ‘I think you do know, but let me check then, hmm?’ You weren’t sure how he did it, but he brought you underneath his body in one fell swing. You were now lying on the bed, and he slid down to sit on his knees at the end of the bed. ‘Professional opinion and all, right?’ 

‘Right.’ You hid your face in your hands to laugh. What the hell had you gotten yourself into?

Eddie reached for your hands, making you look down at him. 

‘I wanna see your pretty face.’ But, God, speaking of pretty faces, his smile might have been one of the most beautiful sights in the world. He could have been a model, probably… and yet… 

You didn’t want to look at him, however, when he started unzipping your trousers. The button opened up, and you heard the zipper move down, releasing the tension of the material around your waist. Eddie tapped your hip, telling you to move them up. Once you did so, with one big tug, he pulled the pants down to the middle of your thighs with one big tug. It took him three more to get them off entirely. The next second, the trousers were in the corner of the room, along with your shirts. 

‘Oh, baby,’ his syllables were long, dramatic, playful. ‘You are fucking soaking through these.’ You felt your back stiffen at the feeling of his fingers on you. Two, his pointer and middle fingers, slowly tracing down over the thin cotton. Then he’d roll them back up, letting his knuckles press the slit.

‘Fuck, can’t wait to taste you– can I taste you, baby?’ He asked, eyes pleading you for it. 

‘You don’t have to,’ you responded. The air in the room seemed to be turning colder and sent shivers over your arms. 

‘I know I don’t have to.’ Eddie scoffed, teasing. ‘Let that be lesson two then: if a guy doesn’t want his mouth near your pussy, then you shouldn’t come anywhere near his dick.’ He growled out the last words, and his hand had such a tight grip on your panties, that, with one quick move, he tore the material in two. 

♤

‘Eddie!’ she shouted. 

‘Shit, sorry.’ He got too carried away in everything. ‘I’ll pay you back.’ That’s when he glanced down; it was like his memory was instantly wiped. ‘Oh, fuck yes. Fuck you got the cutest pussy I’ve ever seen.’ He left a kiss a few inches above it and slowly made his way down. His fingers returned to the slow up-and-down motion he had done before, and each time, he let himself go deeper. Her body tensed up, and breathing hitched in her throat until it came out in a soft moan. 

‘That’s right,’ Eddie said before one last kiss on the most crucial spot. And this kiss lasted. After a few seconds, he practically made out with her clit, as his fingers entered her.

That is when her hand reached for his hair. The touch was enough to make him moan against her. 

‘Oh fuck,’ she moaned loud, eyes tightly shut in pleasure. Keeping his fingers deep within her, Eddie mused:

‘That’s right, baby. Does it feel good?’

‘So good.’ She dug her nails through his hair, nudging him on to continue whatever he was doing. 

♤

Even though you had not meant to pull at his hair, it was all much more of an impulsive action, Eddie groaned out against. He pulled you in closer, sending the vibrations from his body right through yours. 

You had expected, thinking up this plan of hiring someone to teach you sex, that it would be much more formal. That the guy would give you step-by-step instructions on how to do things, tell you everything directly, and you would follow. Maybe that is how it would be with anyone else, but with Eddie, he made you feel it. Without saying a word, you knew how to listen to him. Through his reactions, you knew what to do. His moans encouraged you to pull his hair, to close your thighs around him. Meanwhile, your response spurred him to go, let his fingers move harder, his tongue slick deeper through you. 

‘Fuck, Eddie, fuck.’ You felt that feeling inside you, the build-up. It wasn’t familiar, for you had only experienced it very few times, mostly on your own. This tension deep within you. It grew, quickly reaching its tipping point. 

Eddie’s free hand fastened itself onto your leg; he seemed to have lost himself in you. Then his eyes moved up, locking right with yourself. A part of you wanted to take a picture of what you saw in front of you and cherish the memory forever. His honey-brown eyes glazed in need of you. This spark of all-knowing deviltry. 

Your whole body tightened as you felt it coming, tighter and tighter, like a rubber band ready to snap.

But instead, Eddie let go of the band as he pulled away from you to accompany your last moan of his name.

A whimper left your mouth, and pleads were ready to follow it, begging him to not stop. Not now. Just a few more seconds. 

‘Lesson number three,’ he wiped his mouth– which was glistening in the room's warm light– with his thumb but never wiping the smug smile off his face. ‘Tease, tease and tease. The longer you keep them waiting, the sweeter their reward will be.’ 

At this point, you could not imagine it being so sweet, as all you felt was a horribly empty feeling, deflating your insides by the second. 

‘Everyone likes that?’ You asked.

‘Hmm, good question.’ Eddie got up to remove his belt. He made a spectacle out of it, sliding the whole strap from between the loops, then throwing it down to the ground. ‘It does probably depend on a person, what their limits are. How much they can last and take.’ Like a showman, he made you watch. Made you wait. ‘I’m sure some people would rather just get on to the final act.’ 

‘Not me?’ you asked as he pulled his jeans down along with his boxers.

Just like the picture. 

‘Hmm,’ with a pondering expression, he fell down onto the mattress beside you. ‘Not you.’ 

‘What makes you say that?’ It took all your willpower to keep looking into his eyes. He, however, wasn’t as courteous. His eyes roamed over your naked body as his hand found its way back between your legs. A quick snap. He slapped your clit lightly, but it was enough to immediately sent a spark through you, nearly bringing you back to the spot of tension. 

‘Just a hunch.’ He slapped you again. 

♤

She was so fucking sensitive. Like a little porcelain doll.

For good measure, and the fact he couldn’t get enough of how her body moved when encountering intense pleasure, he gave that pussy a third and final snap. Maybe he would have kept going, he certainly had not felt like stopping any time soon, but it was when her hand reached for his. Fingers around his wrist. Her eyes closed lightly, mouth parted just a tiny bit, enough for her to whisper his name. 

‘Eddie.’

‘What’s up, sweetheart,’ he leaned in his lips almost on her cheek again. She didn’t respond. ‘Lesson four: always use words. I don’t know what you really want unless you tell me.’ He left sloppy kisses over her face as he dictated. ‘So? What. Do. You. Want?’ He punctuated each word with a touch

‘Fuck me.’ 

‘Of course.’ He had expected her to play around with the words, make him pull it out of him, but no. So, he got up and reached for the wallet in his jeans. He should have checked sooner. This had been too much of a risk, but luckily, the silver foil stuck out immediately. 

She had sat up again to watch him rip the packaging open. 

‘You’re making me feel really unprofessional right now,’ he chuckled to himself whilst pulling the condom out. ‘I have a whole box in my bag with the rest of my stuff.’ He had planned to get it out of his car after meeting her at the bar, but then everything had gone a bit to shit, hadn’t it? 

‘I have a box… in my bag,’ she said, for some reason almost embarrassed. 

‘Someone’s eager, huh?’ Perhaps he didn’t help, but really, he was talking about himself. Eddie could immediately imagine himself being with her for the rest of the night, the entire fucking week if he could, but something told him that after this— that would most likely be it. It was better not to stretch a good thing out. She paid for him to teach her the basics, not exhaust her to her limits, perhaps scare her off of sex forever.

‘No, I just–’ did she notice he was joking? Either way, she hid her face in her hands, laughing at herself. Eddie took the moment that she wasn’t eating him alive with her eyes to get a few pumps in. it wasn’t even needed; he was rock hard; it was just a routine at this point. He let his head roll back a little back as his hand moved up and down, then got on with putting the condom on. 

♤

‘How should we uhm— how do you want—’ you looked for a good way to phrase it as Eddie got back into bed. 

‘Anything particular in mind you wanted to get a hang of?’ he asked. You shook your head no. Stupid. You should have done your research. Come more prepared. 

But could anything prepare you for Eddie? It didn’t seem likely. You could have come in with a four-volume guide, and he would have probably thrown it out the window and shown you a whole new world. 

‘Then we’ll just see where the night takes us, why don’t we?’ He positioned himself on top of you. Arms on each side of your shoulders, stomach hovering over yours. As you both breathed in, you could feel his muscles. He put his weight on one of his forearms as the other hand reached back down between you, moving his fingers in a circular, steady motion. 

Too occupied with how good his touch on you felt, there was no real thought going through your mind when you pulled his face closer to you, kissing him deeply. Your noses pushed against one another. Your fingers rooted down between his hair.  

Eddie spread your legs wider apart, creating the perfect position for himself. 

‘You ok?’ he asked, lips practically still on yours. 

‘Mhm.’ You hummed, but Eddie clicked his tongue, pulling away a few inches to look at you a bit more focused. 

‘Mm, remember rule four?’ 

You didn’t want to remember. You didn’t want to think. All you wanted, needed, was him inside you. But you answered: ‘use your words? Let them know what you want.’ 

‘Good girl,’ he kissed you softly. ‘It also goes for consent. Probably should have made that the first lesson, but what can you do? Make clear what and when you want something. If the guy doesn’t listen– I don’t know, kick him in the nuts.’ 

‘Got it.’ You nodded. 

‘So, let’s try it out.’ He didn’t move, just waited for you to speak. 

You took a deep breath. ‘I want you to fuck me, Eddie.’ 

‘There we go. Feels good, doesn’t it?’ His hand returned to rubbing your clit as he moved around above you, getting in the proper position. ‘Quick lesson five: it’s fucking hot when girls say shit like that. So don’t be afraid to get dirty.’ Slowly and carefully, he let himself sink into you. His length filled you up, spread your walls. It was a perfectly tight fit, making it impossible to hold anything in. 

‘Dirty and loud.’ Eddie stayed still, letting you get used to the feeling of him. ‘Don’t hold it in, baby, ok?’ 

‘O-ok.’ Your breath was shaky. Once used to him, you placed your hand on his chest. His hot breath burned your skin.

Eddie kept a slow pace, letting both of you ease into the rhythm of being together, but eventually, you felt your body loosen up. Finally, it wasn’t enough anymore. Was he holding himself in? Could he tell you needed more but was waiting for you to tell him? Teach you your lesson. 

‘More,’ the word was nearly just an exhale, but it was enough for Eddie. He kissed you passionately with a smile, and he plunged deeper inside you. From then on, his thrusts were harder, faster. He grabbed your leg and pulled it over himself. The new change brought in a whole new angle, letting you feel him through your entire body. 

The pleasure was intense, and beautiful. Your mind was scattered, so you didn’t even feel your teeth graze over your lips, locking in your voice. But Eddie noticed. 

♤

The second he caught it, something in Eddie’s mind switched on. As much as he tried to contain that part of himself, keep it away from her, he couldn’t. It was fucking primal. 

He thrust harder than he did before. His hand found its way to her cheek, squeezing it– not too tight, he pulled himself back quickly, but strong enough to show her he meant it– and his words came out in a growl. 

‘What did I tell you, baby? Don’t hold it in.’ A few more deep thrusts left both their bodies shaking with each move. ‘I want to hear every pretty sound that comes out of your mouth.’ His thumb pressed against her bottom lip, and, without another word exchanged, she parted those beautiful lips and granted him access. 

She fucking moaned around it and sucked her own juices off it. Could she taste the sweetness? He hoped she could. He was jealous of every person that ever got to taste it, but he quickly let that thought sink away as he had more pressing questions. 

‘Now, where did you learn that?’ He smiled when he pulled his thumb away, his hips only slightly rearranging the pace as he spoke calmly. 

‘Sorry, was that wrong?’ She blinked. Genuine fucking naivete. Eddie could barely hold it in anymore. 

‘Only in the sense that it got me this close to blowing my load before you got even close.’ He quickly regained his speed.

From that point on, she didn’t hold back. Her moans were beautiful. The sound of his name comes directly from the centre of her pleasure was like hitting the jackpot. If only he could live off those cute noises, he’d be the wealthiest man on earth. The luckiest. The happiest. 

What the fuck was wrong with him? 

But shit were her tits a sight for sore eyes. Looking at them, he couldn’t go a second without touching them. For a moment, he got scared he was too rough, but then the claws came out– almost literally. Her nails dug into his back. It would leave marks, and Eddie couldn’t wait to see them when he looked in the mirror the following day. 

‘Eddieee,’ it came out so shaky, so desperate. He could tell she was getting close. It took much less than expected. He had a thousand things in his head that he still wanted to do with her, show her, but even he realised then it was wishful thinking. His own words from minutes ago reverberated in his mind. 

You’re making me feel really unprofessional right now.

He was ready to burst, and it only took a few minutes in missionary. Usually, he could go for ages.

Then again, he hadn’t been this turned on in a long time. 

‘You close, baby?’ He asked and almost hoped to hear yes; Eddie didn’t know how much longer he could last, and if he came before her– he could never live that down. 

But she was lost in him, too far down to appropriately respond. That wasn’t good. Eddie slowed down a bit. ‘Hey, hey, you alright?’ 

♤

‘Yes,’ you took a deep breath, ‘please don’t stop. Not now.’ He was making you feel incredible. In a matter of a few minutes, you felt like you had reached the seventh heaven. Absolute bliss. 

But perhaps you didn’t feel how much you actually felt. As good as it was, this overwhelming sensation pulled you away from everything around you. When Eddie brought you back, with the softness of his voice and the touch of his hands, only then you realised how far down you had been.

‘Are you sure? We can take a break.’ Eddie’s eyes searched your face for any signs of trouble, but before he could spiral, you halted him. A few deep breaths were all it took for you to be present. 

‘I’m ok. Thank you.’ You kissed him. Whatever anyone would say if they heard about your plan, this was how you knew you had made the right choice. Or perhaps how you knew that the universe wasn’t always against you. Tonight, it brought you Eddie. Whether it was a freak accident or not, you would never regret the choices that led to it. 

Eddie continued what he was doing, giving you all his attention. To all of you. You didn’t feel like an inch of your body went down forgotten. Meanwhile, he was all you could think about. It was like the world around you dissolved. A fire could have burned down the entire room, and you don’t think you would have even noticed. Not with Eddie’s cock deep inside you. He didn’t falter. Each thrust was full of him, hitting the perfect spot. Mind-numbing, toe-curling and… 

Soon, you felt that feeling again. That tightness inside you. This time even tighter than previously. It was to be expected that Eddie knew what he was talking about. The longer the wait, the better the reward. And to think only a little time had passed since the two of you entered the hotel room. Not much time at all compared to how much you wished you could be with him. Was it insane? Probably, but you didn’t care.

You just wanted him, and you would take as much as he could give you. 

♤

Eddie could feel how close she was. 

It had definitely scared him when he saw how far down she had been, already blaming himself for taking it too far. He had been ready to pull the plug and return her all the money. It didn’t matter if her payment had actually gone to his account; he would make sure that his fuck ups were compensated. 

But she was fine. Like a little firecracker that she was, she kissed him, wiping his whole mind clear of anything but her. Her and that sweet, sweet taste. 

It didn’t take much longer for breathing to break up in quick succession. Moans got louder, likely uncontrolled, and her grip on his tighter. Her nails dug into his shoulder just as he loved it. 

‘C’mon baby, come on.’ He encouraged her to lose all of her control. Lose herself to the pleasure. She needed to know how it was to be treated right. He needed her to know. And he didn’t know how much more he could keep it going. His last few thrusts still reached the deepest parts of her, and got everything out of her he wanted, but he felt himself lose his momentum. With each second, it was getting harder to concentrate. 

‘Oh my god-’ she whimpered as she released underneath him with a high-pitched scream at that. As much as he wanted to hear all of it, he kissed her to mute it. There was no need for the neighbours to get concerned. 

Though from all the other noises they made, from how the bed shook and banged against the wall, they would make the correct assumption. 

Not much later, as she was still coming undone, Eddie let himself reel in the pleasure. Then, stilled within her, his lips on her neck now, he came. When he pulled away, he wished he could have left a mark on her, but he knew that would be a step too far. 

‘Thank you’ were the first words to come out of her mouth when he discarded the full condom in the trash. He wasn’t sure what to do now. He didn’t like feeling naked post-sex, but he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. Maybe she expected more. If so, he could give it to her, but he just wasn’t sure– 

‘It’s my pleasure,’ he sat on the edge of the bed, just in reach to place his hand on her leg. They were both covered in sweat, naturally, but the cold was taking over. ‘You should get under the covers.’ The last thing he wanted was for her to get sick.

‘Right.’ She pulled at the corner of the blanket– always a much more arduous task than necessary in hotel rooms when they’re tucked in deeper than the pits of hell. As soon as she pulled the white sheet over her body, Eddie regretted his choice of words. It was probably the last time he would have seen her naked, and he didn’t even take a moment to appreciate what he had in front of him. 

He found his underwear, which was almost kicked under the bed. When he resurfaced, her face was full of worry. The furrow of her brows was enough to tell him that. 

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked as he covered himself up. 

‘I’m sorry.’ 

‘I don’t understand.’ 

‘I didn’t do anything. I asked you to help me figure this out, and we just–’ 

‘No, hey, hey.’ Eddie practically jumped into bed next to her. Cupped her face in his hands and made sure she looked at him as he spoke. ‘First of all, if this is how you feel, I should be the one to be sorry since I clearly didn’t do my job. So I’m sorry. But you have no reason to think you didn’t do well. This was amazing.’ He could only hope she knew just how much he meant his words. That she could trust a complete stranger with words as much as she did with their bodies. 

‘No, Eddie, it’s not that you didn’t teach me anything, but I– there’s still so much I don’t know. Fuck, I still have no idea how to suck a guy off.’ 

Eddie cursed under his breath. Just from those words, he could feel himself twitching against his boxers. This girl was going to be the death of me. She kept on talking. 

‘Would it be ok if we do this again? Not as an accident this time, I will book you.’ 

He wanted to say yes so badly. But he had to keep his mind clear as he answered. ‘I don’t think that will be a good idea.’ fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He wanted to punch himself in the gut. 

♤

‘I try to keep a strict one-time, no repeating clients policy. It makes the job much easier,’ Eddie explained. 

‘No, I understand.’ Having to do this with the number of people he does… you couldn’t imagine how that was. How other people would be with him, and what could have happened for him to make such a rule in the first place. 

‘I would say you should try Steve for real, but I don’t believe you need any “sex lessons”. 

‘Right,’ you scoffed away the comment, but Eddie was persistent. 

‘I mean it. I can tell that you have a whole talent in there for this shit. You just need to find the right guy to bring it out in you because whoever you’ve been in the past, clearly, they weren’t doing it right. Then you will learn everything else you want to learn by yourself. Basically like you did now.’ He gave you a kind smile, and you tried to replicate it. 

‘I did need you.’ You couldn’t look at him as you said it.

‘Ehhh– not so sure about that. For a while, I thought you just wanted me for my body.’ He fell over to his back, hand on his chest as if he had just been shot. ‘That shit can hurt, you know.’ He was so dramatic and made you laugh so easily. You had never expected anything like that to happen that night. 

♤

A body to adore was one thing, but he might miss her smile even more. 

‘Are you feeling alright?’

‘Why do you keep asking me that?’ She blinked. Eddie pushed down the anger he felt at all those morons that had not treated her right before.

‘Let that be your final lesson then,’ he pushed down another instinct, this time to make a cheesy reference that she might not get. There was no need to make the mood weird or awkward now. Eddie cleared his throat. ‘Lesson… what number are we on, six?– Lesson six: aftercare. Just check up on yourself to see if you’re able to carry on afterwards. While always quite vital, the more intense the session, the more important the aftercare. It keeps you stable.’ 

She nodded in understanding. ‘So, how would that look?’

‘Well, let’s see…. Are you sore? Do you need anything?’ Once again, he was mad at himself for going into this without his usual stuff. While his bag was mostly filled with toys that might be a bit too much for her, he also had plenty of shit to make her feel better if needed. 

‘No, I don’t think so.’ 

‘Ok, do you need something to drink? Eat?’ Before she even replied, Eddie lunged for the can of soda she had discarded on the desk opposite the bed. The bubbles would have mostly flattened by now, but it was still a liquid to drink. 

‘Not really,’ she said as he handed her the can and took a small sip. ‘Ok, maybe a little bit.’ They both smiled as she emptied the can of its last chug. 

‘More?’ Eddie asked as he tried to read it off of her. 

‘No, I’m good.’ Just like before, she started tapping on the can. Now empty, it sounded even more hollow. 

‘And was everything alright? I was scared I might have gone too far at one point.’ 

♤

The way you could see the genuine concern and worry in Eddie’s eyes made you want to wrap your arms around him, kiss him, and never let him go. To think that a few hours ago, neither of you was even aware of the other’s existence. That you weren’t supposed to be aware, that it was all a giant coincidence. And that after tonight… that would be all that it ever was. 

Here was this fantastic man taking care of you better than any other guy had. 

Sure, you paid him to do it, but something in you, call it a freaky instinct, told you that that was just who Eddie was. He wanted to take care of you. 

Maybe that’s why he went into the business. Who could really tell?

‘It was perfect,’ you told him because it was. 

‘Ok, good.’ He nodded, smiling shyly. It was the first time that night that you saw a crack in the confident front of the guy. 

‘Really, thank you.’ You reached for his hand, and his eyes followed it. He looked as your fingers lazily intertwined while you watched him.

‘You, uhm, you should probably go to the bathroom. Make sure you wash all of me out. Make it a standard practice, really.’

‘Will do,’ your voice wasn’t hoarse, yet you whispered. It suddenly became hushed in the room. It could have been quiet all this time, but it was then that you grew aware of it. 

You didn’t want to leave the bed, or Eddie, just yet, but you knew you should listen to his professional advice. Everything he had told you so far felt like the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe you also knew of them already, maybe did it too, but it only made sense when it came from Eddie.  ‘Don’t leave yet, ok? I want to say goodbye.’ The idea of him being gone when you came back felt gut-wrenching for many reasons, but all unknown. 

All Eddie did was nod. 

When you returned, he had just put his shirt back on. His belt was in his jeans loops but not yet fastened. Was it weird to watch him get dressed? It felt more like a thing real couples did, which you were far from. It felt stranger doing so whilst you were still completely naked, so you grabbed the fluffy white bathrobe on the bathroom shelf and pulled it on, tying it tightly around your waist. 

‘That’s me then.’ Eddie scratched the back of his neck, looking around, most likely checking if he didn’t forget something. A part of you hoped he did. He would realise it only hours later and rush back to find it. That this wasn’t the last time the two of you would meet. 

A girl could wish. 

‘Right.’ You put on a brave face as you made your way to the door. ‘Thank you again. For everything.’

All Eddie did in response was nod with a tight-lipped smile. 

The door was open now. He was already on the threshold. Compared to the soft glow of your room, the corridor's light felt jarring to your eyes. Just like that, it was over.

You could not believe this was the end. It ended as quickly as it started. A whole whirlwind of… everything, really. 

Before you could stop yourself, one last question burst through your lips. 

‘Is Eddie your real name?’ You immediately regretted your entire life, couldn’t believe you had done that. ‘I’m so sorry, just ignore me. I don’t know why I said that–’

But Eddie beamed. He took your hand in his. ‘As real as anything tonight was.’ and placed a soft kiss on your knuckles. He started walking before your wrist even hit your hip. 

You couldn’t watch him walk away, so you closed the door and your eyes before he went too far. A minute later, you cursed to yourself.

The whole aftercare thing- You never got to ask if he was ok.

Fuck.

the end.

thank you so much for reading!! if you want more of where this came from, check out my masterlist. - also made a lil playlist based on this fic, told through taylor swift songs

and please support your (not so) local creators by liking AND reblogging.

I would love to know what you thought of the story, so please consider leaving a comment, or maybe an ask or even an anonymous review ;P

you are also more than welcome to join the taglist. right here.

Eddie (smut, 18+) taglist part 1:

@spiderrrling @theglitterymess @dorianelizabeth @theletterhart @niyahwhoreworld @fopdoodle1624 @pastel-abyss-x @ghoulsgraveyard @lovesickollie @xbreezymeadowsx @ssanjuniperoo @nxrdamp @meaganjm @mischiefmanagers @capybergara @brother-lauren @h0sh1verse @ghostlyreads @croweaterr @ladyapplejackdnd @bilesxbilinskixlahey @kbakery @lizzylynch1 @liltimmyst @hellfire-state-of-mind @escape-in-time-x @sweetpeapod @the-a-word-2214 @eddiemunsonbby @mydearzero @overthewhiteclouds @wroteclassicaly @groupies-do-it-better @celestialsxturn @hoe4eddiemunson @inanausomewhere @scoops-harrington @fluffyharrington @billyhargrovesprincess @annikin-im-panicin @kaitieskidmore1 @yesv01 @princess-aries

[ellecdc]

part II - Pretty Woman

slow burn poly!wolfstar Pretty Woman (1990) au: established wolfstar, escort!reader, side jegulily, eventual dorlene, political heist-type situation, depictions and descriptions of sex-work

I // II

CW: financial insecurity, Sirius money-is-no-object Black, sugar babe vibes, brief mention of Black family [3.1k words]

link to series masterlist

The words on the page before you began to blur and melt as you watched the way the shadows of the leaves danced across them; the canopy of trees above your fire-escape-turned-balcony swaying in the gentle breeze and providing you with broken bits of shade. 

You almost laughed that out of the two documents Sirius had sent you home with, the legal NDA was rather easy to read through and already signed, sitting safely on your bedside table for your next meeting. 

You were having a harder time with the second document; one that you were supposed to replicate for him.

‘About Me’ it read. And it was - about Sirius, that is. Everything that a long-term girlfriend soon-to-be fiance hopefully one day wife should know.

His favourite colour is black, but there was someone else's font beside it that read “this doesn’t count, Sirius”, to which what you could only assume was Sirius’ scrawl wrote “bloody hell, fine, blue then.” His birthday is November 3rd. He’s a dog person, but Remus likes cats so he thinks he’ll likely have to cave one day and get him a cat. That note made you smile. He wanted to study art history (someone wrote the word ‘nerd’ beside that) but his parents didn’t approve, so he studied architectural design instead. He listed the Godfather as his favourite movie, but when someone wrote ‘liar’ he wrote ‘FINE. It's the 1999 made for TV version of Annie with Kathy Bates’. He’s afraid of spiders, he drinks both his coffee and tea sickly sweet - his favourite drink being a salted caramel latte, he played rugby with James growing up but quit when he decided he didn’t actually like being beaten about for sport. He left out the ‘when I was already being beaten about at home’, but you read it for what it was anyway. He can play piano but hates it, he can play the guitar less well but loves it. He’s littered in tattoos, most can be hidden under dress shirts and such, but there’s one that trails just a little too high up on his neck and a few on his hands. His favourite meal is Remus’ mum’s shepherd's pie, but the Ritz room service always made a really good baked mac and cheese.

You snorted as you threw your head back against the railing behind you - your bum growing numb from sitting on the wrought-iron bars of the fire escape - at the thought of Sirius Black sitting in a premium suite in one of the world’s poshest hotels and ordering macaroni and cheese to his room from a michelin star restaurant. 

What the fuck have I gotten myself into? You wondered wryly as you stood and forced the jammed window to your bedroom back open and crawled through. 

Sirius had offered to pick you up, but you had insisted you would meet him at the mall. Well, actually, Sirius had first offered to transfer you some money to buy a cocktail dress for dinner at his Uncle Alphard’s tomorrow night, but when you’d gone so quiet on the phone that Sirius actually pulled it away from his face to ensure the two of you were still connected, he’d offered to take you instead. 

The dinner at Alphard’s would be a good segway into the Black family nonsense; Alphard’s house would be neutral territory, his parents and other aunts and uncles would be there, but it wouldn’t be their domain. And there would also be Andromeda, her husband Ted, and of course Uncle Alphard to act as buffers.

But that’s not what had Sirius feeling so uncharacteristically nervous right now. He felt silly, sitting here at the Starbucks with sweaty hands as he considered buying a second latte. 

Yeah, he thought wryly, that’s exactly what you need - more caffeine, as if you aren’t already shaky enough. 

Sirius hadn’t felt this anxious since he’d asked Remus out on an actual date back in school. He supposed in many ways, this was a first date of sorts. A first date with the woman who was going to help him bring down his family and all the hate they stood for, with the woman who was going to be accompanying him to events with some of the worst people he knew, the woman who he was going to propose to, who he’d have to bloody marry at some point; blimey what did he get himself into? 

Thankfully you chose that moment to show up, saving Sirius from any further spiralling as he stood so quickly that he almost knocked the small bistro table clean over. 

“Hullo! Fuckin’ hell. Hi!” He stuttered awkwardly as he caught the table and righted his nearly finished coffee.

“Hi.” You murmured softly with a matching smile.

“Hi.” Sirius said again, wiping his hands on his trousers and smiling back at you. 

“Hi.” You repeated; smile growing into a cheekier smirk as you watched him botch this. 

“Great, awesome.” Sirius said with a smile. “You’re laughing at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you.” You laughed.

“Oh, and now you’re lying to me.”

You shook your head and looked down at your feet. Sirius wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting when he hired an escort, but he found he was surprised by how plain a lot of your wardrobe seemed to be. Granted he had only met you twice, but from those two times it had become clear to him that when you weren’t working, you preferred to be nondescript. Classic tees, shirts, and blouses, and denim or, in today’s case, corduroys; you looked vintage and casual, put together in a way without looking like you tried too hard. Though, once again, you were only as nondescript as any pretty woman could be, and he was sure that anyone even remotely attracted to women would absolutely spare you a second glance - corduroys or otherwise. 

But he couldn’t help but admit - at least to himself -  that he was a little bit excited at the prospect of getting to dress you up. 

“Are you- do you want a drink?” Sirius asked as he gestured towards the Starbucks behind him, nearly taking out an errant shopper with his hand causing him to have to call out a hasty apology. 

“Oh, uhm, no, no. I’m good, thank you though.” You declined quickly as you hiked your purse further up on your shoulder, though you were eyeing the store with intrigue.

Ah, Sirius thought to himself, allergic to spending money - I know a thing or two about your type. 

“Listen, gorgeous, we’re going to be spending a lot of money today, so you’d be better to start with something small to ease yourself into it.” He quipped.

He’d been going for light and breezy - even shooting you a cheeky wink - but you seemed to blanche at that. 

“I’m… I don’t have much on me, Sirius…” You started, and Sirius fought the urge to wince at his faux pas.

“My money, doll; we’re going to be spending a lot of my money.” 

“I-”

“It’s number six.”

You turned away from the coffee shop to look at him in bemusement. “What?”

“Number six, how you take your tea and coffee; your favourite drink.” He explained. “Mine’s a salted caramel latte. What’s yours?” 

You took a deep breath as you searched his eyes for a few moments before turning back towards the drink menu. “Are you getting something?”

“I was considering getting a second.” Sirius allowed as he nodded towards his forgotten cup.

“I’ll get it, then.” You offered, and made your way into the shop before Sirius could even respond, returning a few moments later with a salted caramel latte for Sirius and some kind of sweet looking cold brew for yourself. 

“Thank you.” He offered as he accepted the drink from your grasp; your name scrawled prettily on the side of the cup. 

“Don’t mention it.” You whispered back as you took a sip of your own.

*ೃ༄.ೃ࿐

“What about this one?” Sirius asked for what had to have been the thirteenth time in this store alone as he held up a garment for you to consider. 

You barely spared the dress a half a glance before you were reaching to the sleeve - not coincidentally where the price tag was.

“Would you stop checking the price?” He hissed as he gently swatted your hand away. “Do you like this dress?” 

You made a helpless sound in the back of your throat as you looked between him and the dress again. “I don’t know, Sirius, I- it’s not something I’d ever buy for myself.”

Sirius sighed as he returned the dress to the rack and gave you a Look™. “I do not mean any offence, doll, but I think that’s sort of the point.” He offered softly.

You groaned miserably and cradled your face in your hands. “I’m sorry - I’m being terribly difficult.” 

“You’re not being terribly difficult.” Sirius appeased, waiting for you to peek at him through your fingers. “Only mildly.”

You groaned again but allowed your hands to fall away from your face to land on your hips as you considered the rack in front of you. Your bottom lip dimpled as if you were chewing on the inside of your lip as you turned to a rack behind you that the two of you (read: Sirius) had been looking through moments ago and sifted through it again.  

“That would be a nice colour on you.” He offered as you paused on a dress. You kept your face pointed towards the dress but looked up at him through your eyelashes before pulling the dress out and holding it up against him.

“Now, I don’t know what you think you know about my family, but generally, I save my dress wearing for when I’m in the privacy of my own home or at a very specific bar.”

Sirius watched as your nose crinkled before you were dropping the garment and lowering your chin to your chest in an attempt to hide your snickering; Sirius momentarily wished you wouldn’t. 

“I didn’t mean for you,” you chided through a giggle as you held the dress back up against him; he didn’t argue this time, “I was checking to see if the colour looks good on you as well.”

Sirius found his cheeks flaming hot as the question ‘and does it?’ settled on the tip of his tongue. But, like the fucking prat he is, all he managed to spit out was “of course it does, I look good in everything.” 

You rolled your eyes good naturedly and muttered something that sounded an awful lot like ‘git’  under your breath before nodding once. “I think I’ll get this one, then.”

“Great job.” He said as he swiped the dress from you and folded it over his arm. “Now pick three more and then we can head to the next store.”

“Thre- next store? Sirius, I-”

“I told you we were spending a lot of money today, Y/N, I meant it.” He said simply as he encouraged you forward by the small of your back. You sounded as though you were going to say something but acquiesced when he patted your hip twice before pulling his hand away from you. 

“You don’t wear a lot of colour, I’ve noticed.” Sirius offered, swinging the bags he was carrying casually in his hands as the two of you slowly made your way through the mall after purchasing shoes ‘to go with the dresses, doll’ and even some sodding bags ‘think of it as an investment, gorgeous; you’re an employee, and working for me comes with a uniform. I’m providing you with a uniform’. 

You looked at him sideways as you continued walking, trying to ignore the feeling of everyone doing double takes to see a girl looking so plain with designer bags in her hands and a certified adonis by her side. If he hadn’t told you his favourite colour was black, you would have guessed as much just from the sheer amount of it he wore. But whereas you wore a fair amount of black in an attempt to disappear - to blend in - he seemed to do it to make his own statement; it stood out in stark contrast against his fair skin, and depending on what he was wearing, complimented his many (visible) tattoos nicely. It also left his eyes - a grey blue - appearing that much more brilliantly bright and striking.

All this to say, he wasn’t one to talk.

“No…” You allowed. “Neither do you, though.”

“Touche.” He offered you with a wink - or, what you were sure was a wink - behind his sunglasses as the window-pane roof let in an unusual amount of sunlight for this time of year in the UK. “Why don’t you, though?”

You sighed as you stepped onto the escalator going down and redistributed your bags in your hands instead of answering right away. “I get looked at more than I’d like to already.” You admitted quietly. “I… I get enough attention, I don’t need to garner any more.”

You weren’t looking at Sirius but you could feel his gaze on you before he nodded his head in your periphery. “I get that, I think. Growing up in a political family came with a lot of attention. Then being the runaway, then playing the poster child again.”

You hummed an acknowledgement. “You seem to lean into it, though?” You hadn’t meant it to be offensive, but when Sirius’ mouth opened in a disbelieving laugh, your stomach dropped. “Not- no, I’m- that’s not what I-”

“Relax, babe. I get it.” He waved you off as the two of you stepped off the escalator. “It’s true; I always sort of figured, they’re looking at me anyways, you know? Might as well give them something to talk about.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence after that, only breaking it to apologise when one of you brushed against the other with one of the many bags adorning your hands.

“Where’d you park?” Sirius asked as the two of you stepped out into the daylight. Fuck, you hadn’t thought this through.

You were expecting to shop for maybe one dress for tomorrow’s dinner, and you were planning to shove the garment into your purse for the train ride back home. There was simply no way you could manage public transport with this many bags, and the chances of you being mugged on your way increased significantly for every designer bag you had. 

You wondered if the clothes would even be safe in your flat at all, knowing the only locks that you trusted were the chain bolted to the front door that you installed yourself, and the piece of wood you jammed in your window at the fire escape so no one could open it from the outside. 

“Y/N?”

“No. Uhm, sorry.” You started, looking towards Sirius but not necessarily at him. “Actually, I’m- well, do you think I could keep them at your place? I…I don’t- I don’t necessarily want my neighbours knowing I have this kind of stuff in my flat.”

Sirius’ eyes softened and you felt a little guilty at the half truth, but soldiered on. “I’d just hate to come home from work one day to find it all missing, you know?” You tried to joke. 

You swore Sirius’ mouth pinched slightly before he schooled his expression and redistributed the bags he was currently holding into one hand and held out his free one to take yours. 

“Oh! I could help-”

“That’s alright, doll, I’ve got it.” He said as he relinquished your bags from you. “Tomorrow, then? I assume you’ll be getting ready at my place? Do you want a ride?”

“No! No, that’s alright, I’ll meet you there if you just want to send me your address.” 

The two of you said goodbye and you watched Sirius walk through the car park until he disappeared behind a row of vehicles, and you stepped back into the mall to wait for the next train that didn’t come for another 45 minutes. 

Sirius let out a breath as he closed the door to his and Remus’ townhouse behind him; the sounds of the London streets melting away to the odd honk or occasional car door closing as he began searching their home.

He needn’t search long, however, finding Remus exactly where he knew he would be.

”Did’ya have a good day?” Remus asked without looking up from the potatoes he was peeling, though he did turn his face slightly to reciprocate the kiss Sirius pressed to his cheek. 

“Yeah, not bad.” Sirius agreed in an exhale as he disposed of the many shopping bags onto the kitchen island.

Remus opened his mouth as he turned - no doubt about to scold Sirius for messing up his clean kitchen - when his face pinched in confusion.

”I thought you were going shopping for Y/N?” 

“We did.”

”Sirius!”

”Remus.” Sirius shot back as he made himself comfortable on one of the high stools.

”You’re going to scare her away.” Remus muttered as he washed and dried his hands before coming over to peek inside of the bags, pulling the documents you had returned to Sirius out of one of them. 

“She was much more tolerable than you were when I first took you shopping.” 

Remus shot him an unimpressed glare though he didn’t bother gracing him with a response as he leaned back against the counter and flipped through the pages in his hands. “Why didn’t she take any of this with her?” He asked as he motioned to the bags now littering his kitchen island.

Sirius felt his own mouth pinch in displeasure as he recounted your reasoning. “She said she was worried her neighbours would see - didn’t want anyone to know she had anything of value in her flat.”

Remus made a sympathetic hum as Sirius pondered what it was exactly about that sentiment that left such a bad taste in his mouth. 

“Sounds like my flat back on 31st.” 

Sirius groaned at the memory of Remus’ flat he had back in university. Sirius had spent the first eight months of his and Remus’ relationship begging him to move in with him and James; he’d already spent most nights there in Sirius’ bed anyways! But Remus was proud and argued with Sirius when he said as much.

”I hated when you lived there.” He grumbled, and Sirius pretended not to notice Remus’ eyebrow lift as he considered him. 

“Yeah?” He asked as he turned back towards his potatoes with a muted grin. “So did I.” 

[zweiginator]

omg escort!reader and divorced!art is so well written you are an artist… i need to know what happens when she gets back from hiatus🫢 maybe she is taught to not reveal too much personal stuff but art is just so desperate and lonely that she caves… maybe she gives him the most intimate and passionate blowjob of his life and he’s so pathetic because he hadn’t gotten his dick sucked in like two years and it’s so good that maaaaybe he cries a little…

art calls one more time, exactly a week after his first one. he asks politely to the woman on the other end, your boss--is she back yet?

and just by the breathy desperation in art's voice, she knows who is calling. who he wants so badly.

"look--she'll give you a call when she comes back. i'm not sure when that is. you may hear from her before i even do. are you sure you don't want to book a session with another girl in the meantime?" she explains that there's another girl who looks a little like you.

"that won't be necessary." art takes a sip of his gin and tonic. "i'll wait for her."

she sighs, lets it go. tells art to have a good night and art wishes her the same. but his head sinks into the pillow, the bitter curl of gin still on his tongue and he wonders where you are.

three days later you come back. your boss had flagged you down when you came in to talk money with some of the other higher-ups.

"hey, a client of yours called a couple times while you were out."

you plunge the applicator of your lip gloss back into the sticky tube.

"really? who?"

"guy named art, i think he said. sounded like you really made a lasting impression."

art. of course you remember him. dirty blond hair with salted white strands around the crown of his head. sunken in eyes that turned boyish when he smiled, although the wrinkles around his eyes revealed wisdom, experience. the smell of musk and tobacco radiated from him like the cradle of his body heat.

"long time client?" she asks you.

"no. just once." it surprises you, that he cared so much to call.

"you must've made a good impression." she winks.

your heart sinks a bit when you remember how you forgot the money. that maybe he only called to urge you to pick it up, not wanting to be caught up on the bad side of a system like this one.

so you go to his hotel room. you remember art telling you he was taking a break from tennis, that he would be staying at that hotel down by the highway for as long as they'd let him.

and art is watching shitty reality television when he hears a knock. your knock. three open-palmed bangs and art is opening the door in an old t-shirt and cotton pajama bottoms. somehow, he looks even better than before.

"hi." a smile creeps up. a big one.

you blush and look down at your feet. that's so unlike you. "hi. im back."

"please, come in. i'm sorry." he ushers you inside and latches the door. "i was about to make a gin & tonic. you want one?"

"no, thank you. i heard you had called the service about me?" you sit on the desk chair across from the bed.

"yes--I" a pause, like he's trying to really gather himself. "i'm sorry if that was inappropriate. you forgot the money and--I just really wanted to see you again. if i'm being completely honest."

you try to hide how your face contorts, disappointment as art mentions the forgotten cash, bliss as he admits the calls were to ask for you.

"here i am." you scoot forward. "not inappropriate. i promise, you're much more respectful than most of the callers we get."

art asks to cradle you in his lap again and you oblige. you like to feel small with him, and he likes to feel strong and protective and push your hair away from your forehead to kiss you there. it all feels so much more intimate than sex could ever be.

"have you been feeling any better?" you ask art.

he ponders, and then nods. "yes, actually. since meeting you ive felt better."

"good. that's good." you latch your lips under his ear. "i thought about you while i was away."

blood rushes to arts face. "really? in what way?"

"i didn't pleasure you at all."

art pulls your face close to yours. stares at your lips and the dip of your cupids bow.

"you did pleasure me."

one of his hands cradles your head, the other resting on the top of your thigh. you grab him, making his fingers trace up your torso, your throat. and then you suck his fingers into your mouth. you swirl your tongue and let the spit drool out of you and make a mess.

for the first time, art groans. it's guttural and surprises you. the both of you. because it came out involuntarily, a dormant beast that the warmth of your tongue pulled out, inch by inch.

a twitch under your ass. he's hard. but the skin of his fingers is so, so soft. regardless of the callouses on his palms from tennis rackets.

"i want to make you cum."

this vocabulary. this depth of conversation, of laying each other out in the open and digesting stories and vulnerabilities is not your job. using such straightforward verbiage is not your job. your job is to be pretty and be used and be paid for it.

but this isn't your job right now. because art never paid you, and you still haven't brought up the $800, although you saw it in an envelope with your name in small, capital letters, blue ink.

you're not his escort. no, right now you're his lover.

art tilts your chin up. "do whatever you want to me. even if it hurts me, i'll want it."

and god, he's so fucking ridiculous with those puppy dog eyes and furrowed eyebrows. pathetic but in a way that made you want him to use you even more. but he won't.

you untie his pajama bottoms.

"do you want me to make you cum?" you yank them down, along with his boxers.

"yes. fuck. yes." his erection slaps his stomach and he's long. pink and wet with pre-cum; it looks just as pathetic and needy as he does.

you wrap your hand around him.

"pretty, pretty cock." you stroke him, pretty painted nails wrapped around the length of him. "so hard. god, i bet it feels so good to be touched like this."

it does. god, it does. but art can't speak. his mouth hangs open because you're touching him like it means the world to you to do so. so, so, slow. intentional how you feel the ridges of him.

he closes his eyes, just for a second. but then he misses seeing your face, how it mirrors yours in terms of pleasure, even though he isn't touching you at all.

his eyes open to see a glob of spit falling from your lips as you stare at him. his micro-expressions. he nods.

"do you want me to get it nice and wet for you?"

you already have, bubbly spit warming his cock so nicely.

"yes. please--"

the sounds of you touching him are louder now. he hasn't been touched like this in so long he feels like he may just cum right now. spill into your hands and apologize profusely. tell you he isn't usually like this.

but then he feels your lips. a soft kiss to his tip and he groans. instinctively grabs your hair and you open your mouth all the way for him.

"fuck my throat." you say it so sweetly, his erection still in your hand, ghosting over your mouth. tempting him.

"i dont want to hurt you."

you bat your eyelashes. "fucking doesn't necessarily mean fast or hard. fuck me how you want to."

he wants to worship you. he wants to feel you from the inside out. but he'll take this.

he holds the back of your head and tells you to tap out if you're in pain. as if he forgot the nature of why you're here. you kind of have.

you nod and you're drooling for him. over a year of doing this and you've never felt your heart beat so assuredly. knowing that you want him more than it's healthy too. that this is more than a contract between seller and buyer.

he pushes in. slowly, inch by inch and your eyes water. he holds your hand tightly and you squeeze him back. you're completely still. you trust him all the way as he fucks your throat slowly. his spongy head hits the very back of your throat and every movement makes art whimper, moan, swear. it makes you wetter than his hands being all over you. just pleasing him. he deserves it and so much more.

"fuck--you look so pretty. taking all of me. want you to take everything i fuckin' have--"

his hips stop moving, they stutter. and you pull off him, opting to do all the work yourself. it's messy; spit drips between his thighs and you kiss his shaft up and down. kitten lick him, worship him. softly stroke him and tell him you want him to cum, you want him, you want him.

it's not a lie, but art wouldn't care if it were. hearing the words makes him cry, makes him finish, makes him pull you onto his lap as he's still coming down. to hold you close. you wipe his tears and stay all night.

[satorusugurugurl]

My Wedding Date is an Escort!

Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojo’s heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.

Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader

Word Count: 3,498

Warning: stress, yelling, fighting, kisses, insecurity, self doubt, language, suggestive, whipped cream

A/N: Things are getting are getting spicy now!! Y'all aren't ready for part four!! A reminder, of you want to be included in the tag list YOU MUST HAVE AGE LISTED! Thank you!!

Part One, Part Two, Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight

The smell of cedarwood, one you used to love, was now suffocating you like a toxic gas. Your eyes blurred in shock as Toji pressed his chest against your back. Letting you know this was real and you weren't in a drunken haze.

“Are you listening to me?” Toji spoke again, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. “I told you we need to talk.”

A year and a half ago, the old you would have given in, allowing him to give you any explanation he pulled out of his ass. You, however, had grown in your time away. You didn't have to listen to him.

“I don't want to talk to you.” Your voice trembles, not in fear, but in a boiling rage that was settling in your chest. “Get the fuck off me.” The disbelief in his eyes is almost comical, but he doesn't move. “Get! The! Fuck! Off! Me!”

Your ex listened this time, promptly stepping back and holding both of his hands out in front of him. “Jesus fuck, sorry. But I'm serious about talking to you.”

A scoff of disbelief is the only answer you gave him as you washed your hands. If you kept your body constantly moving, you wouldn't freeze up again. Despite your best efforts, your traitorous hands continued trembling. Unfortunately for you, Toji noticed this, his eyes lingering on your hands before drifting to your face as you dried them off.

“Do I make you that nervous?”

“Oh my god, are you kidding me?!” The rage finally boiled over, like hot milk on a stove. “Nervous?! You think I'm nervous?!” You stormed forward, jabbing your pointer finger into his chest.

Your rage and finger jabs only have Toji rolling his eyes. His much larger hand shot up, grabbing and squeezing your wrist. His skin on yours made you feel a certain way. That contact was something you craved before, something you felt like you needed. Now? That contact made your stomach churn with nausea.

“Ya’ done lying?”

“Let me go.”

“No, I asked you a question. Are ya’ done lying?” Toji steps forward, crowding you against the wall. “Because we both know you're lying to yourself. You are nervous; you've been nervous since you stepped foot here in Kyoto with your friend.” His words stung like lashings from a whip. “I make ya’ nervous; that's why you've been avoiding me. And I don't like being ignored.”

A rage burned in your eyes as he waited for you to respond. How dare he corner you and act like you were the problem! You yank your wrist away, glaring up at him.

“That friend of mine is my boyfriend! And I'm not nervous around you. I can't stand you. Being around you makes me sick.”

“Oh, that's rich. Why is that Y/N? Why do I make you sick?”

“What makes me sick?! Toji, did you forget you broke off our engagement a month before our wedding? You broke my heart! Being around you fuckin’ hurts; do you not understand that!? So what you see as nervousness is me trying to heal!” Toji’s eyes widened as you continued your rant. “So that’s why I have no desire to talk to you! I don't care what you have to say!” But knowing Toji, he wouldn't back down so easily. “But you won't leave me alone unless you say whatever the fuck it is you want to say! So what is it, come to gloat about your life as a married man? Come to show me a picture of your pretty wife?”

“Watch it.”

“Or did she find out about your gambling problem and can't handle it? So you want me back so I can take care of us?” You had fully intended for that to hurt, but your insults just bounced off him. A smirk turned at the corner of his scarred lip.

“You think I'd actually want you back?”

His words stung like a million scorpion stings. It knocked the air out of your lungs as you felt your stomach drop. Toji slowly came to the realization of what he had said, his smirk falling as he saw the tears in your eyes.

“Y/N, fuck, I didn't mean it like that.”

You shoved your way past him; your heart thundered in your ears as you grabbed your sweater and bag off your chair. All of your friends were far too drunk to notice the state you were in, waving bye as you headed for the door, dialing Satoru’s number. Hot tears flowed down your cheeks as you tried to keep some composure.

He picked up on the first ring. “Our first drunk call; I'm so excited to hear all the cute things you're gonna say.” When Satoru doesn’t hear the commotion of the bar, his teasing tone vanishes. “Y/N?” God, he sounds sincere, like he might care for you. “Sweetheart, what's wrong?”

“T-Toji’s here, and I—” a sob rips through your chest, “I can't do this.”

“Where are you?” You listen to him shuffling a door opening and closing.

“Outside of the bar.”

“Is he around?”

“N-No.”

His breathing was shallow; the background was breaking in and out. Was he—running? Why would he come running to you?

“Good, stay there; I'm on my way.” The line went dead, leaving you standing there, staring at your phone.

The inn was nearby, so it shouldn't take him long, maybe a ten-minute walk, maybe faster since he was running. But he couldn't come soon enough. Your head kept turning toward the door to the bar, anxiously waiting to see if Toji came out. God, you prayed he wouldn't.

Your chest was constricting, and your eyes blurred as you fought against the tears threatening to escape. You didn't want to cry more. Because it was a waste of time, energy, and tears. There was no sense in crying over something so silly!

“You think I’d actually want you back?”

His words were on a loop. Slicing into your still bleeding heart, cutting new wounds, deeper ones. Which was so stupid! You would never get back to him! Even if he asked you to. You two had grown apart, your relationship toxic. So why did it bother you so much? Words from a man that hadn't been in your life for so long!

You glanced towards the night sky, the stinging feeling slowly turning numb. You knew deep down why it hurt. A reason that made you feel sick and weak. Like some fucking pathetic character from a soapy book.

If Toji didn't want you, who would?

A hand gently grabs your shoulder, turning you around. You turn, expecting to look up to the almost magical blue eyes of Satoru. Only you can find dark blue eyes. You step back, only to have Toji grab your purse and yank it, pulling You back towards him.

“Leave me the fuck alone!!” Toji flinched at your broken plea. “Haven't you done enough tonight?!”

“Look, I’m sorry! I didn't mean it like that!”

You fight against every urge to punch him. “Oh!? Okay, what did you mean when you said, ‘You think I’d actually want you back?’ Because it seems like you meant it to me!” Your purse falls to the ground as Toji pulls you closer. His hands clamp down on your upper arms to prevent you from moving away.

“Will you shut the fuck up for five damn minutes!?”

More tears stream down your face; your eyebrows knitted together pathetically as he bent down slightly, forcing you to look up at him. There was no use fighting it. He wasn't going to stop; you were trapped.

Satoru was breathing heavily as he turned the same corner he'd walked with you earlier. When he did, he froze in his tracks, seeing you and your prick of an ex standing outside. Toji was squeezing you, yelling something in your face. Satoru’s heart clenched when he saw the way your eyebrows pinched together. You were distraught, visibly upset, and you—you were crying.

Something inside Satoru’s chest snapped, and he bolted forward, rage painted over his features. “Hey!”

Your head whirled towards his voice, Y/H/C hair, tear droplets flying. He swears it happened in slow motion; fuck, you were even pretty when you were upset. Your face softened, the disdain melting away like snow in the spring. All because he was there, knowing that he had that sort of effect on you made his heart race. Making you happy was all Satoru had wanted to do.

Something he had never felt with clients before. Because the more time he spent with you, the more Satoru got to know you, the less you became another client on his calendar. To him, you weren't just a number, a dollar in his bank account, were Y/N.

His Y/N.

Not this fucking assholes. Not anymore! Satoru grabbed Toji’s wrist, forcing him to release you. Your ex-fiance glowered as Satoru pulled you to stand behind him. When your hands clung to his shirt, he released his vice grip on Toji’s wrist.

“You again.” Toji sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, me, the boyfriend.” Satoru crowded Toji, the two men face to face. “I’m guessing you didn't hear me the first time.” He eyed your ex up and down. “If Y/N wants to talk to you, she will. But as you can see, she doesn't, so fuck off.”

Satoru backed off as you buried your face into his back. He knew you were crying. Still, your body was trembling, hands clinging to him, keeping you grounded so you didn't break down. The state you were in irked him the wrong way, and his fist clenched, longing to hurt the dick who'd hurt you as much as he’s done to you.

“I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but this is between me and Y/N. So you fuck off.”

“I'm Gojo Satoru, heir to the Gojo family business. I'm also dating Y/L/N Y/N, and I plan on being with her for a very long time! Got it?! Good now, if you’ll excuse us; I’m taking my girlfriend out for dinner, asshole.”

Satoru felt your grip loosen around him, a little gasp leaving your lips. “T-Toru.” A nickname, you gave him a nickname. God, he felt like he could fly.

“I got you, let's go.” Turning around, Satoru started leading you down the sidewalk.

He barely made it a foot away before he was yanked back by the collar of his shirt. Both fists shot up, ready to fight. Toji instead shoved your purse in his face. “Some boyfriend, you are almost leaving without her bag.” Toji waved at you as he headed back into the bar. “We’ll finish this another time, Y//N.” Satoru glared at him until Toji was inside; the second he was gone, Satoru grabbed your hand, leading you down the street.

You didn't say a word, but your smaller fingers intertwined with his, allowing him to lead you away. He pulled into a ramen shop, helping you in a booth before sitting across from you. You were wiping at your eyes, but more tears kept rolling down your cheeks. Satoru’s heart shattered seeing you so upset like this.

“I-I’m sorry,” you hiccuped, “I god, I'm sorry, Satoru.”

“No, don't apologize.” He reached out, replacing your hand with his own. His thumbs gently brushed tears away. “What happened?”

You laughed, but it wasn't your usual happy laugh. No, this laugh was full of sorrow. Satoru didn't like it when you laughed like that.

With a breathless sigh, you leaned into his hand. “Toji cornered me in the bathroom. He kept wanting to talk, and well, things were said.” Your lips brushed over Satoru’s palm as you spoke. “In the midst of my anger, I asked if his wife found out about his gambling problem. And if he wanted me back to take care of him like I did. Jokingly, of course, and he—” Your bottom lip quivered. “H-He uhm, god, it's so stupid—”

“It's not stupid, please tell me.”

You took a deep breath, “He said, ‘You think I’d actually want you back.’” Your voice was so fragile as you repeated those pain-ridden words to him.

“Are you kidding me?” Satoru’s other hand cupped your other cheek. Holding your face gently as he watched as your face contorted with emotional pain. “This is the part where you tell me you're joking, right? That he didn't say that shit to you?” The mind-numbing silence was the answer to his question. “That motherfucker, I should have knocked him out when I had the chance.”

“I-I didn't even mean it, ya’ know? I wouldn't get back together with him.”

“Good, because there's no way in hell I would allow you to get back together with that asshole. You deserve so much more.”

Your Y/E/C widened and glittered under the lights at his words. “You think I deserve more?” Satoru nodded, thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones. The look on your face was full of hope, a look Satoru had never seen grace your beautiful features before. But that light faded just as fast as it appeared.

It was doubt; you had been hurt so much in the past that you doubted the genuine words he was saying.

”Hey, I don’t say shit. I don’t mean.” Satoru whispered.

”I know, I just, I’m so confused.”

”Confused because you’re drunk?”

”No, I’m pretty much sober now.” You sighed, pulling away from his grasp. “I just, I’m conflicted.”

”Conflicted over what?” He cocked an eyebrow as you flushed. “Tell me.”

You gulped down some water before running a hand through your hair. “I just, us.” Satoru perked up. “I know I hired you to be my wedding date and all. But I like you.” You chugged more of the water down like it gave you courage. “And it’s not only because you’re super fucking hot. I also like talking to you, god I love talking to you.” Satoru’s cheeks flushed, watching you closely. “But what is the cherry on top of the sundae of you being everything I’d want in a partner is the fact that you came running for me today.”

”Y/N—“

”You dropped everything and came running to me. Like a scene from a Rom-Com.” Your nails clanked nervously over the glass, your gaze drifting toward the awe-struck Satoru. “I know I hired you, and this is your line of work. But I can't stop thinking about the kisses—mmmph!”

Before you could finish your last word, Satoru grabbed your face, kissing you deeply. His fingers gripped your chin but shifted to hold your cheek in his hand, cupping it gently. With wide eyes, you slowly kissed him back, melting against him.

Satoru slowly pulled away, his thumb moving down, caressing your bottom lip as he looked into your eyes. “I’ve never felt like this about a client before.” He panted softly.

”Really?” You smiled wide as Satoru hummed happily.

”That day we talked on the phone, I knew there was something different about you. Something I want to explore.” You giggled, tears forming in your eyes as he wiped them away. “So, what do you say we order dessert here for a little date?”

You looked around before shaking your head. “No.” Satoru’s face went pale as he looked you over, searching for an explanation. “The dessert here is shit, let’s go back to the inn, and I’ll make us something?” Satoru's breath was full of relief as he stood up, grabbing your hand tight.

”You are such a brat.”

Despite being a brat, Satoru followed you back to the inn. He watched with curious eyes as you moved around the clean kitchen. You were pulling out mixing bowls, cream, and chilled sheet cake. Your tiny hands so gracefully washed strawberries, your touch gentle as if they would fall apart if you handled them any other way.

Everything you did was done with skills he did not possess. Slicing strawberries, cutting the vanilla cake into the perfect symmetrical cubes. Satoru found himself under a spell as he watched your every move. God, you looked so gorgeous in a zone like this. Your smile, the way you move with purpose, focused on constructing the dessert you promised him.

You peeked at him from the corner of your eye. He grinned as he rose from his seat, striding towards you as you poured heavy whipping cream into the stand mixer before switching it on at medium speed. Satoru had a certain gleam in his eyes as he oh’d and awed at the cream inside the mixer. He was so fascinated, and he looked like a child in a candy store.

You tapped his shoulder, handing him a small vial. “Want to help me? You can put the vanilla in.” Satoru eagerly took it, opening it. He sniffed the bottle before looking down at you.

“Give me a hand?”

“Sure,” your hand slowly ran over the top of his, “just do a little bit.” The two of you poured some vanilla into the mixing bowl. A rich smell wafted up in the air. “Was this just an excuse for me to touch your hand?”

“What?” His tone was full of faux confusion. “No, never.” He quickly put the vial of vanilla down, his fingers interlacing with yours as he pulled you into his side. “What's the next step, chef?”

“We add in sugar.” You worked your culinary magic, sweetening the whipped cream. “And that is how I make my whipped cream; I use it at the bakery.”

“I love the whipped cream at the Ichigo Cafe.” Satoru groaned out, looking into the bowl. “So fluffy and sweet!”

You tapped your fingers on the bowl. “Why don't you taste it? Tell me if it's sweet enough for you. Mr. Six packets of sugar in my coffee.” He turned to face you, resting his hand on his hip with a smirk.

“I am not at all ashamed of my likes, Y/N.” he pulled the top of the mixer up. “I like my treats sweet; I am the Gordon Ramsey of desserts!”

“Satoru, watch out for the switch!”

Satrou smacked the switch while scooping a finger full of whipped cream. The whisk attachment spun around several times, splattering the two of you with bloats of sweetened cream. Satoru quickly turned it off, looking around at the white mess.

A big blob of whipped cream fell off his nose, smacking into the metal table. The sound, his eyes slowly glancing at it, and the stunned look on his face knocked over your giggle box. Your head tilted back as rich, warm laughter flooded the kitchen. Making Satoru melt as he wiped the whipped cream off his face, licking it off his fingers.

The sight of his fingers dipping into his mouth. Had you choking on your laughter? Cerulean eyes burned as he slowly pulled his finger out, smirking. His thumb brushed out your lip, smearing whipped cream over it. The action had you breathing heavily.

“Tastes sweet, but I think you're sweeter.” He leaned down, his lips brushed over your cheek. “Ten times sweeter.”

You closed the distance this time. Pusjingnhis back against the table. Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him down and deepening the kiss—the taste of your whipped cream lingering on his tongue. Your sudden boldness had Satoru stumbling, eyes wide as you shoved Your tongue in his mouth, much like he had done to you earlier.

He whined, shutting his eyes tight as he grabbed Your hips, pulling you tight against him. “You're so beautiful, god Y/N.” He whispered in between heated kisses. “I think I started falling for you since that first phone call.” His honesty had you whining against his lips as he sucked and nipped at your bottom lip.

“Satoru~”

“God, I want you; I want you so bad, Y/N.”

Your heart lurched into your throat as you pulled away, staring into those blue eyes you were falling for. Satoru wanted you. He legitimately wanted you. Not just to take you out on a date, but he wanted you in ways you hadn't been wanted in a very long time. Ways you told yourself and Satoru you didn't need. But the desperation in his kisses, how his tongue moved against yours, and the hard bulge growing in his pants had your heart thundering, utterly breathless, and oh-so-wet

“Toru.” He groaned, trailing kisses over your neck, his hand squeezing your hips. “Toru.”

He pulled back, shutting his eyes tight as he rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth. “Sorry,” he sighed, “I’m sorry as much as I want you. I don't want to rush you.” Your hands trailed over his toned stomach, fingers undoing the button to his jeans.

“Toru, take me to our room.”

Tag list: (AGE MUST BE IN BIO!!)

@arminloverlol @jamzywiththejam28 @gojoful @maskedpacific @ahseyy @kash77 @sadmonke @ari-maccha @sugurubabe @hyori2 @bluechocolatemint @itsinherited @dellappatca @therealestpussyeater @dead-at-tokyo @nvrgojover @drakenswifeyy @nealeart @yunho-leeknow @fire-child-kira @faeryminnyx @tqd4455 @harmonyflora @volkins181-blog @noukstmblr @lovely212 @stinkinstuffie @desihopelessromantic @witchbybirth @sonicsolos @lilbiguy @supsiii @rentheannihilator

[royalsunshinehotel]

this is not exactly a request for anything in particular BUT i just saw monkey man and read your nsfw alphabet and. i’m. ready. for. MORE!!!!!!!

I am SO GLAD You enjoyed Monkey Man!! I see the girlies in my activity tab, and it makes me so happy to see my writing entertaining people. Stay tuned, I've got a lot planned 😈😈

Your thoughts were cut off by him, slowly, steady as ever, he took your shaky palm in his hand, bringing it up to the mask, as if to kiss it. Of course your hair stands on end, even the lightest touch from him left you shaking. 

For a moment, you think of other men, the ones who paid to fuck you, and how they’d die to see you like this - obedient, soft, trained. And here you were, falling to your knees before him, like he was that western God you’d heard too much about.

[spnexploration]

Escort

Synopsis: Dean needs an escort to help him with his cover on a case (more of a case fic with flirting, no smut)

Pairing: I see it as Dean Winchester x reader but could be read as Dean Winchester x OC (no physical descriptions are given and she goes by what is clearly a fake name the whole time)

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Words: 3k

This fulfils the Escort square of my 2023 SPN AU Bingo @spnaubingo

A/N: It's nice to write a really competent, confident female character!

Supernatural writing masterlist

“Dean,” Sam implored, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Sammy, I swear to God, you keep whining about the plans and I’m gonna stop telling you the plans.”

“She’s a distraction at best, and a liability at worst!”

Dean rounded on him, “Is your complaint because she sells her services?”

“What? No.”

“Really? Because you’ve sure made a lot of jokes over the years about women in her line of business.”

“Dean, stop it. I’m worried about her getting hurt, or getting you hurt.”

“It will be fine. For all she knows, I just needed a girl to make me look good to the other suits. She won’t even know I’m casing the joint while we mingle. Nothing will happen, you and I will go back later without the girl. Girl will just earn some easy cash looking pretty.”

Sam sighed. Dean took that as a win. He gave his brother one last look before grabbing his keys off the motel room table. “I’ll go find a girl.”

---

Dean rolled down the window as he pulled up to a girl standing on the street corner. He was already in a tux. “Hey sweetheart,” he said as he rolled down the window. “You wanna have a Pretty Woman moment tonight?”

She looked like she was struggling to control the urge to roll her eyes. He liked her already.

“Hey handsome,” she said, leaning through the open car window. “What did you have in mind?”

“I need an escort for a big fancy party my work is throwing.”

“And you didn’t want to call a real escort service?”

“The others probably know all of them.” She laughed. “So I thought I’d branch out.” In reality, he didn’t want the arrangement written down anywhere.

“And let me guess, you want some services that aren’t available on their menu, too?”

“Nah, strictly escort tonight. Possibly the easiest money you’ll make, except for the need to smile your way through painful small talk about the best way to fold napkins.”

“And what would you have me wear?” she asked in a sultry voice.

“I got ya a dress. It’s in the back, we’ll go to the service station and you can get changed in the bathroom.”

“How long’s the party?”

“Few hours.”

“I charge $120/hr.”

“Fine.”

She opened the car door and slid inside. “Nice car,” she remarked as she ran her hands over the seat.

“My Baby’s the best,” Dean replied with a smirk, before speeding off.

---

Dean pulled up to the line of cars waiting to go into the party. He turned to the woman beside him, now resplendent in a beautiful dress he’d gotten at the op shop earlier that afternoon.

“Uh, I uh, I forgot to ask. What should I call you?” he said, suddenly awkward.

She laughed. “You can call me… Hazel.”

“Alright, Hazel it is. Where’d we meet?”

“The street corner.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I had a flat and you helped me with it.”

“Ok. Recently?” He enjoyed letting her lead.

“Just the other day.”

“Sounds good.”

“So, what do I call you, handsome?”

“Drake,” Dean said, his hand on the car door handle as a valet came up to greet them. He headed around the car and opened her door, holding his hand out to help her out. He reached his arm around her waist and held her to him. “I’m new at the company,” he whispered, “So not many people know me.”

She shot him a quick, concerned glance before schooling her features back into a smile. Dean led her up the steps and into the party, flashing two tickets on his way past.

---

The party was going well. No one seemed to mind that they’d never seen him before in their lives, and Hazel fit in better than he could have imagined. He hadn’t expected that the girl he’d gotten off a street corner would be able to pull off the escort idea, but he’d been hoping she would take the attention away from him. That wasn’t happening now that she was actually good at it, but instead they seemed to be blending in. He’d take it.

He put his hand on the small of her back and leaned down to her ear, “I gotta go to the bathroom, I’ll be back.” She smiled at him and he walked off. He glanced around the room, but he couldn’t see the artefact he was looking for.

He headed into another room, still surreptitiously checking out the walls and display cases. He headed for an empty corridor and pulled his phone out, quickly dialling Sam. “Yo, you got any idea where this thing might be? It’s not in the main hall.”

“Dean, you are the one who said that was exactly where it would be and we didn’t need any further investigation!”

“Yeah, well, I might be wrong. Zero amulets.”

“I dunno, keep scoping out the place. What’d you do with the girl?”

“Told her I was going to the bathroom, so I can’t take too long.”

“Yet another reason it was a bad idea to take her.”

“Shut it, bitch.” Dean hung up the phone, Sam was no use.

He quickly scoped out the room closest to him before deciding he needed to head back to his date.

---

She smiled as he approached. “You took a while,” she said.

“Couldn’t find it, and then there was a line of women. They take forever.”

“You try peeing in one of these dresses.”

“Nah, I’m good,” he said with a grin. She really was perfect, he’d like to have taken her out for real some time.

He glanced around, seeing the drinks table. “You want another-” he started to ask, before fading out. He saw it, the amulet. It was around the neck of the bloody hostess of the party. Not. Good.

“Yes?” Hazel asked, drawing his attention back to her.

“I- uh- sorry.”

“You see something you like?” she said with a smirk, following his line of sight to the beautiful woman with the amulet.

“Oh, no, just, you know, lost my train of thought.”

“Uh huh,” she replied, deadpan.

He looked back at her properly, “Tonight’s all about you, sweetheart.” He flashed her a smile, that usually worked.

“Let’s go talk to her, if you’re so enamoured,” she said, starting to walk towards the lady.

“No! No, wait!” he said, reaching for her hand to prevent her getting near the woman. He had a sneaking suspicion that being near the amulet would’ve been very bad for the hostess, given the descriptions he’d read about its powers. It hadn’t been entirely clear, but he had a feeling she might be being possessed by a powerful being. He didn’t want Hazel anywhere near her.

Hazel rolled her eyes and tugged her hand of his grip, heading towards the woman. “No, Hazel!” Dean said, which brought the attention of the hostess on him.

“HUNTERS!” she yelled, suddenly holding a fireball in her hand. Fuck, a witch. Hazel had paused in shock, so Dean grabbed her waist and pulled her behind him. Others were screaming and running. The witch threw the fireball, Dean dived out of the way and pulled Hazel along with him. He raced to hide behind the bar as she threw another one. The room was rapidly emptying of party-goers, running for their lives.

He reached into his pants and pulled out his gun. “Stay down,” he hissed at Hazel, who had just peeked over the bar. To his dismay, he saw her reach up under her dress and similarly pull out a gun. He groaned.

“NYPD, we can discuss your activities later,” she whispered to him.

“Of all the women on all the street corners, I got the secret cop.” She started looking like she was going to peek over the bar again and he pulled sharply on her arm to keep her down. “If those aren’t witch-killing bullets, you’ve got no chance.”

“Of all the thieves on all the street corners, I had to get the deranged one who thinks witches are real.”

“You see that fireball she threw at us? That ain’t normal, sweetheart.”

Speaking of fireballs, one took that moment to crash into the glass mirror above them, raining small pieces of glass all over them. Dean sheltered Hazel’s body with his own, then pulled out his phone.

“She’s a freaking witch, Sam!” he hissed into the phone after Sam had picked up. “We’re under attack.”

“Who is?”

“The woman who owns the amulet, she’s wearing it!”

There was a loud crack as the bar they were hiding behind took a frontal hit. It wasn’t going to last much longer.

“I’m on my way,” Sam said in the phone.

“That might be too late,” Dean replied, looking for an exit strategy. He couldn’t see one.

“There!” Hazel hissed, pointing at a door in the panelling of the back wall of the bar area. She crawled over to it, wrenching it open. “It’s a dumbwaiter.”

“Get in it,” Dean replied, “I’ll send you down.”

“No, we can both get in it. You’re not going to survive by yourself here.” To emphasise her point, more of the mirror exploded above her head. He was pretty sure the witch was just playing with them now.

He stood up, trying to get a good shot at the witch. She was surrounded by henchmen and impossible to fire at, but she threw another fireball at him.

“Ok,” he said, crossing quickly to her.

“You get in first,” Hazel ordered.

“No.”

“We’ll only fit if I’m on top of you, get in.”

He saw the determination on her face and surrendered. He awkwardly climbed in to the cramped space, then held out his hands to take her. She squished herself in on top of him, hitting a button on the side before closing the door. The cart began to drop.

Dean held his gun up, pointed at the door, as Hazel unlatched it. They were in the wine cellar, with no one around. The staff had probably run off at the sound of the gun fight upstairs. It was even harder to get out then it had been to get in, but they managed it.

Dean took a look around, looking for a door that might lead to the outside. “There,” Hazel whispered, pointing at a door to the left of them. He nodded and followed her, pulling his phone back out of his pocket.

“Sam?”

“Thank God,” Sam replied. He could hear the sound of a car, Sam must’ve jacked one. “What’s going on?”

“We’re in the cellar.”

“Ok, you’re going to need to get out and meet me so we can go back in and gank the witch.”

“I don’t think that’s going to work, Sam. They’re going to be looking for us.”

“What’s your plan?”

“I go back in, gank the witch. Sam, you get Hazel out.”

“Uh huh,” Hazel said, spinning back to him, “And how exactly are you going to do that alone?”

“Sweetheart, this ain’t my first rodeo.”

“As I might have mentioned earlier, mine either.”

“Can someone explain what is going on?” Sam yelled from the phone.

“Hazel’s a cop,” Dean replied, moving very close to her. “But no witch-killing bullets and this ain’t your normal perp, so you’re not coming with me.”

“You try to stop me going in there and it’s a crime,” she glared at him. “Obstruction of justice.”

“The justice you were looking for tonight was men who want to pick up sex workers, not witches who want to kill.”

“I’m multi-tasking.”

“The hell you are.”

“OI!” Sam yelled again. “Can you two stop squaring off for one minute to come up with a plan so you don’t both die?”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Right,” Sam continued. “How many witch-killing bullets you got left, Dean?”

“4.”

“Give me 2,” Hazel replied.

“That will halve our chances, sweetheart.”

“You keep being that arrogant and I’ll cuff you to the dumbwaiter.”

“Jesus Christ, can you both stop it?!” Sam complained.

“Ok. I give you two bullets, and then what?”

“I go in as bait,” Hazel responded, “and you hide. If the moment presents itself, you shoot.”

“You are not going in there as bait. I did not drag an innocent into this to get killed. I’ll be bait, you hide.”

She glared at him, but eventually nodded.

“And you’re taking 3 of the bullets.”

“That’s suicide.”

“It increases our chances of you ganking the witch.”

“I’m not a bad shot.”

“Me either.”

“Ok, I’m nearly there,” Sam said from the phone, seemingly forgotten in the standoff between Dean and Hazel. “I’ll try and get in and bring extra munition. I’m tall and I have long hair, please don’t shoot me.”

“Alright, see you soon Sammy.” Dean hung up the phone. He opened his gun and started to take out bullets, handing them to her.

“So,” Hazel said with a smirk, “Dean, is it? That’s what the guy on the phone called you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure Hazel isn’t your real name either. I’ll give you 5 minutes to get in a good position before I start the distraction.”

She nodded and started to jog away to the right. He couldn’t believe he was doing this.

---

Dean took a deep breath. He’d pulled out his other gun, filled with silver bullets that were going to be useless against a witch. But they might be good on henchmen, any bullet’s a good bullet if you’re human. And they’d make a distraction.

He put the normal gun in his left hand, saving his one shot with the witch-killing bullet for his dominant hand. He didn’t think he’d get a good shot, but he’d make it count if he did.

He estimated it had been about 5 minutes since Hazel had gone. Show time.

He crept up the stairs at the opposite end to where she’d gone. He could see henchmen scouring the other rooms, probably looking for him and Hazel. He took a moment to steel himself, then headed around the corner, back into the main room.

He started firing with his left-hand gun as soon as he entered the room, taking down random henchmen. Fairly quickly he was having to dive to the side, another fireball headed his way. He didn’t know where Hazel was, which he realised was a bit of a flaw in his plan. He didn’t know where to lead the witch.

Not that he was really in control of the situation. He was barely surviving as it was. He fired over his shoulder and ran for cover.

He was diving for new cover when he spotted Sam out the corner of his eye. He diverted the other direction, hoping he was still creating enough of a diversion.

Suddenly, the room exploded behind him. He span around, ducking his head under his arms to shield himself from debris.

“Witch is dead,” he head Sam yell, “Let’s go.”

“Gotta find the girl,” Dean yelled back, searching around. He could see Sam doing the same thing on the other side of the room, intermingled with the two of them firing at the few henchmen who hadn’t fled or died already. The explosion had been dramatic, Dean had no idea how Sam had caused it.

Dean finally found Hazel, trying to extricate herself from under some debris. He lifted the remnants of a table off her, holding his hand out to her to pull her up. She limped out so he wrapped his arm around her waist, helping her move faster. They quickly made it to Sam and got out of the building.

---

“I don’t know what the hell I just witnessed tonight but I have no idea how I’m going to explain this to my supervisors,” Hazel said when they were back at the Impala.

“If I were you, I’d leave out the witch throwing fireballs. Doesn’t go down well,” Dean replied.

“I suppose you want me to leave out that the serial killers Sam and Dean Winchester were here too.”

Dean shot her a glare. “We’re not serial killers, we hunt the supernatural.”

“And sometimes the supernatural like to impersonate us and give us a bad name,” Sam added. “We didn’t shoot those people in that footage from the bank vault, monsters with our faces did.”

“Any other day and I wouldn’t have believed you, but tonight I’m a little more inclined. One question though – you always pick up random women to bring into harm's way?”

“Uh, not normally, no,” Dean said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “I genuinely thought we were just going to be looking for the amulet tonight, and I just wanted someone to try and take some of the attention off me. Sorry.”

She laughed, “Wow, you don’t seem like a man who apologises easily.”

Sam, behind Dean, was laughing and shaking his head.

“So, what are you going to do?” Dean asked her.

“I have to call this in.”

Dean nodded, grimacing slightly.

“But that doesn’t mean I have to mention you,” she continued.

Dean smiled. Sam said, “Thank you.”

“When did you know?” Dean asked. “Who we were, I mean.”

“You looked a little familiar to me when I got in the car, but I thought you’d just been in the photo list of known sex worker users I’d looked at. Wasn’t until I learnt your names were Sam and Dean and you were handing me special bullets that I remembered.”

Dean nodded.

“Alright, you two better hit the road before anyone gets here. They probably already noticed the explosion.”

“Do I get to know your real name?” Dean said with one of his charming smiles. She gave a smirk and pulled a folded business card from out of a hidden compartment in her gun. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

She reached over and kissed his cheek, “Thanks for saving my life.”

“Anytime,” Dean replied, opening the driver’s door and jumping in. Sam jumped in the other side and they sped off, into the night.

“So how’d you make an explosion? Or did she just explode when you shot her?” Dean asked Sam.

“Witch-killing grenade, been working on it as a prototype. Same idea as the bullets.”

“Niiiiiiice.”

Dean twirled the business card in his fingers. Would've liked to get to know that girl some more.

.

.

.

Dean Winchester tag list:

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@lyarr24

@waynes-multiverse

@deans-spinster-witch

@zepskies

Everything Supernatural tag list:

@leigh70

@malindacath

@ellie-andthemachine

@iprobablyshipit91

@123passwort

@kazsrm67

@nerdymuffinbonkcloud

@magssteenkamp

SPN Fanfic Pond Dean x Reader tag list:

@babypieandwhiskey

@bkwrm523

@buckys-zomdoll

@canadianspnhunter

@cas-backwards-tie

@castieltrash1

@deanscarlett

@deanwanddamons

@ellewritesfix05

@emilyshurley

@emoryhemsworth

@firefly-in-darkness

@idreamofplaid

@ilovedean-spn2

@kalesrebellion

@katelyn--renee

@kayteonline

@kickingitwithkirk

@lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell

@manawhaat

@melbelle45

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@mysupernaturalfics

@notnaturalanahi

@plaidstiel-wormstache

@sinceriouslyamellpadalecki

@supernatural-jackles

@there-must-be-a-lock

@thing-you-do-with-that-thing

@trend90s

@waywardjoy

@whispersandwhiskerburn

@akshi8278

@ssonia13

[ellecdc]

the pilot - Pretty Woman

slow burn poly!wolfstar Pretty Woman (1990) au: established wolfstar, escort!reader, side jegulily, eventual dorlene, political heist-type situation, depictions and descriptions of sex-work

I // II

cw: discussion of experienced transphobia, discussion of someone else's homophobia, the Black Family, writers poor understanding of UK politics, mature themes and discussion of full service sex work [3k words]

link to series masterlist

“Absolutely bloody fucking not, are you out of your mind?” 

“Cas, please.” You begged as you followed your roommate out of her room and into the kitchen.

“You have plenty of bags, why do you need to borrow mine?” She grumbled as she flicked on the kettle. 

“The room is booked at the Ritz, Cas; I cannot walk in with my fraying duffle.” 

Her movements paused as she turned to look at you incredulously. “The Ritz? Fucking hells, babe, where’d you find this guy?”

You shrugged your shoulders helplessly. “He found me.”

“Blimey…if he has enough money to throw around for a casual stay at a hotel like that and-”

“Me.” You finished for her. “I know…I- I’d like it to go well, in case…”

“In case he decides to book again.” 

You nodded solemnly at Dorcas who continued staring at you, only looking away when her water came to a boil. 

“Fine. Fine…okay, you can borrow my Prada bag.”

You squealed as you hugged your friend from behind as she prepared her tea, ignoring her grumbling on account of the pleased smile she had on her face.

“Thank you, Cas. Really…this….this could be good for us, yeah?”

Her face softened as she turned to look at you as you backed towards her bedroom to retrieve her bag; guilt, grief and hope intermingling in her eyes as she nodded at you. 

*ೃ༄.ೃ࿐

Your cheap heels clicked across along the marble floor which reflected the lights like diamonds under the many crystal chandeliers hanging on the high ceilings. You were wearing your most expensive jacket, but you still felt horribly out of place; you weren’t exactly wearing a whole lot underneath it (everything was going to be coming off shortly anyway…), and you were delusional enough to feel like everyone in the lobby was somehow onto you.

This late into the evening, most guests were dressed to the nines as they made their way to casinos and orchestras; cocktail dresses and more than a few tuxedos painting your vision in every direction you looked. You couldn’t get to the elevator quickly enough, though you were forced to spend the ride up staring at your reflection ad infinitum on account of the parallel mirrors in every direction.

Fifth floor, room 522. 

The room itself had its own miniature chandelier hanging above the room number illuminating it in the hall. You looked back at the text on your phone to confirm you were at the right place.

Great! Looking forward to seeing you: room 522 on the 5th floor

You’d had high paying clients before – men who could afford to spend their money on sex – but not like this, never like this.

You suddenly felt incredibly nervous and hoped you could make a good impression; if he was pleasant, you’d be more than happy to have him as a repeat client.

You’ve been through worse.

You took one last look through your borrowed bag to make sure you had your essentials, as well as your ID and taser in case of emergencies, before taking a deep breath and knocking gently; cautious of the hall of other rooms who may be winding down for the evening and not wanting to draw attention to what was very clearly an escort.

Please let this go well.

“Okay, so, explain to me again why you couldn’t just hire an actress or some theatre student?” James asked as he rubbed painfully at his temples.

Sirius groaned and threw his head back. “Because James; an actress will have a portfolio – a history - that my family can dig into. They’ll also have dreams of pursuing other acting jobs after this one. I need someone nondescript, unheard of, and not going anywhere so that my mother and her cronies can’t poke holes into our story.”

“Same reason he can’t use a friend.” Regulus added from his place on a tufted chair in the luxurious hotel room currently being paid for by his and Sirius’ family.

“Right. Mother and everyone will know if I’m using a friend, or an acquaintance and it will point back to this larger scheme.” Sirius agreed readily.

“But wouldn’t it make more sense if you had met your new fiancé through a friend?” Remus questioned.

“Sure. If my friends weren’t the two of you, Lily, and Marlene.” Sirius added simply.

“I just don’t understand how we jumped straight to prostitution.” James muttered.

“Look,” Sirius levelled, “I’ve thought about this long and hard. I’ve also discussed this with Andromeda and our Uncle Alphard, and they both agree this is the best way to go. Our family won’t have any reason to have met our prostitute unless they themselves have hired a prostitute, and this girl is supposed to be from the opposite end of town, so I doubt there’d have been any overlap anyways. She also won’t have much of a background for them to dig into – and she’d be hard to get to if they tried.”

“Why would she be hard to get to?”

Remus grimaced and answered James for him. “Prostitutes often have pimps, James. Men that...organise the contact for the girls. Sirius would have had to go through one to find this girl.”

“I thought that was a myth?” Regulus interjected, but Remus shook his head.

“It’s estimated that approximately 65-85% of prostitution is pimp-dominated.”

“So, some guy sold her to you?” James asked incredulously.

“Sort of...I guess.” Sirius admitted.

James groaned and looked at the ceiling “I hate this.”

“This is the beginning of the end, James. We’re taking the Black’s down once and for all; they won’t be able to hurt any of us ever again.” Sirius lamented, his eyes moving from James towards his younger brother at the end of the sentence.

Regulus nodded at his brother before there was a gentle knock on the door.

“Well boys, show time.” James said as he stood from his seat and moved to answer the door.

Sirius wrung his hands nervously as he heard James greet you at the door, sharing nervous looks with Remus and Regulus who both sat up straighter.

“-get you anything? There’s a full bar here, you can help yourself to whatever you want.” James was saying, though Sirius could almost hear your grin and polite shake of your head.

“I’m alright thanks, I’m not-”

But the second you stepped into the suite's living room you fell silent and looked at the three boys in horror; Sirius realised what he’d done wrong too little too late.

Both Remus and Regulus stood to greet you, and you pulled your bag into your chest and stepped back so quickly that the picture frame on the wall you slammed into shook. 

“It’s okay, we-”

“What is this?” You whispered overtop of Sirius, eyes darting nervously between the four men now all standing with their hands raised in placation, though Sirius felt as though it likely had the opposite effect. 

“Fuck this looks bad, doesn’t it?” James muttered nervously.

“Shut up, James.” 

“What is this?” You repeated a little louder.

“Y/N, right? My name is Sirius, love. I’m the one you spoke with on the phone.” Sirius offered as calmly as he could muster. “I’m sorry we surprised you, but I promise you’re okay, this isn’t what it looks like.”

“We just want to talk.” Remus added, and you let out a hysterical laugh.

“You hired an escort to chat?” You deadpanned, and Sirius’ noticed your eyes turning glassy in your panic.

“Okay, okay. Hang on, just…” Sirius started, moving in slow motion as he stepped towards the side table his wallet was sitting on whilst holding your eye contact the entire time. “Look, this is the price we agreed upon, right?” He asked, only breaking your eye contact to count the bills out in his hands as he inched closer to you. “You can take this right now and leave if you want, but-” he continued, fanning out the rest of the cash he’d withdrawn, “It’s tripled if you stay and just hear us out.”

You looked at him in pure discombobulation as he placed the agreed upon sum in your hand and closed your grip around it for you before backing away slowly. 

“Sit, please; we can order room service, you can help yourself to anything from the bar. Just…hear us out.” Remus offered as he gestured towards one of the wingback chairs. 

You swallowed thickly and let your gaze drift over the four men again; Remus who was looking at you pleadingly, Regulus who looked very pained on your behalf, James who looked very embarrassed by this whole misunderstanding, and Sirius who was looking at you like you were his only hope. 

“This…it’s not-?”

“No. No, there’s…no. No sex, nothing funny, just…a sales pitch.” He offered awkwardly. 

You scanned the room again, and though your knuckles were no longer white, you were still hugging your bag tight against your body.

“Can I take your jacket?” James offered, taking a step towards him. You simply looked at him before your gaze fell to the rather informal clothes everyone else was wearing.

“Do you have something more comfortable to wear in your bag?” Remus offered, obviously reading your worry for what it was as you nodded at him. 

“The washroom is right there, if you wanted to change? Or…if you wanted to call a cab.” Sirius offered. You nodded at him before disappearing through the door and locking it behind you. 

“Fucking smooth, Sirius.” Regulus muttered as he sat back down with a dramatic sigh. 

“Well I don’t fucking know, Reg! I’ve not exactly done this before, either.”

“That could have been bad.”

“Well we don’t know if she’s going to agree or not so it still could be bad.” Remus countered.

“I don’t think I can stomach having to hire another one.” Sirius muttered as they heard the door to the bathroom click. 

You exited, still looking nervous but you were no longer wearing your jacket which Sirius took as a good sign.

You were wearing a pair of well fitting jeans and a black turtleneck with a pair of black heeled boots - classic and nondescript. You looked put together enough, but like you wouldn’t draw attention to yourself. Though, Sirius figured a girl as pretty as you was likely to garner a few stares regardless of what you were wearing. 

That was probably good for business, which reminded Sirius why you were here. 

“Are you hungry? Do you want to order something to eat? Anything to drink?”

“No, thank you.” You replied as you accepted the chair Remus was gesturing for you to sit in. You allowed James to take your jacket, but kept your bag in your lap. 

“Water?” Regulus asked, and you finally managed to make eye contact with one of them.

“I have a bottle of water, thank you.” 

That seemed…fair, Sirius supposed. He guessed you were used to spending time in the company of rather predatory men.

“Okay, so, I’m really sorry about the confusion, but the reason I hired you is that I was hoping for your help.” Sirius said as he hooked up his laptop to the TV and started his slideshow. 

“You did not actually make a presentation.” James snorted, causing Sirius to look at him nonplussed.

“Of course I didn’t.” He responded simply, blushing only when he turned to notice you were looking at him with one raised eyebrow. “Regulus made it.”

“Someone had to.”

“This really is a sales pitch?” You asked almost disbelievingly; the ghost of a smirk on your lips. 

“Okay, well, if everyone would shut up, I’d get on with it.” Sirius chided with a smile, glad that you were relaxing enough to at least chuckle lightly at his expense. 

And Sirius told you.

He told you that his name was Sirius Black, that he came from the rather ignoble Black dynasty that had their claws (and more importantly, their heavily lined pockets) deeply entrenched in the rightwing government; currently backing the particularly problematic Tom Riddle who was running for Prime Minister. He explained that he’d run away from home at only 16 to live with James and his family due to the abuse and hostility his parents held, and how he could not support what they stood for. However, when his younger brother came out as trans to his parents - his parents who were now relying on their only remaining child to continue their legacy and help paint a picture of themselves as the proper, wholesome political family they pretended to be - they were desperate to play damage control. 

They promised to leave Regulus alone - they’d have nothing to do with him, but they wouldn’t publicly shame him - if Sirius played nice. Nice, meaning living a respectable, traditional lifestyle. This meant that Sirius and Remus had been dating behind closed doors for almost eight years now whilst Remus worked as Sirius’ personal assistant, and Sirius pretended he wasn’t in contact with his younger sibling should the press ask. 

His parents folded at Sirius’ friendship with James and Marlene, simply because no one would be able to explain away Sirius and James’ nearly lifelong friendship (he’d lived with his family for Christ’s sake), and even the Black’s understood the power in having ties with other wealthy and powerful families like the Potter’s and MacKinnon’s, even if their politics didn’t align with their own. 

“How does this all involve me?” You asked then, surprising Sirius out of his well rehearsed schpiel to find your eyes trained on him. 

“Right, so…my parents are tired of my bachelor lifestyle.”

“It doesn’t paint a very traditional picture to have the heir to a powerful family pushing 30 and still living in a bachelor pad with his unmarried mate and employee.” Remus offered dryly. 

“They want you to find a girlfriend.” You deduced.

“They want me to find a wife.” Sirius corrected. 

“And that’s…me?” You asked around a chuckle, your smile falling when you realised no one was laughing with you. “Oh my god…”

“I’ve told them I’ve been seeing someone for quite some time now, but didn’t want to bring them into this world until I was sure about them - until I was sure they weren’t ‘just after the family money’.” Sirius explained solemnly. “They want me to make it official, and they want me to start bringing you around.” 

“Around…”

“Events; galas, fundraisers, press opportunities. The likes.” Regulus explained flippantly. 

“Right…” You offered in monotone. “And you want to show up to galas, fundraisers, and press opportunities with a hooker?” 

James turned to give Sirius a look that seemed to read ‘see?’, but Remus responded first.

“Well…we were sort of hoping he could show up with you.” Remus corrected gently. You seemed surprised and more than a tad confused at Remus’ apparent defence of you. 

“They’re terrible people, Y/N.” Sirius blurted. “They are terrible and they stand for terrible things. They put all of their money into anti LGBTQIA+ propaganda and organisations, they actively work towards harming a large portion of UK citizens, they want to reverse any progress the country has made in reproductive healthcare and women’s rights, they’re trying to ban fucking children’s books, I-”

“Then why play along? Why play nice, as you said? Marrying an escort seems like a very dramatic way to keep your brother out of the limelight.” You argued.

“Clever girl.” Regulus murmured as he leaned further back into his chair. 

“Family inheritance.” Sirius offered plainly. “I have access to use family money, but do not have access to direct family money. Not until I fulfil the requirements of my inheritance.”

“The requirements being an approved heterosexual wedding.” James filled in. 

“Regulus is no longer entitled to his sum of the inheritance after my parents disowned him.” Sirius continued. “But that means that, should I be successful, I would inherit both of our portions.”

“Which would make Sirius the primary shareholder in the Black estates.” Regulus continued. 

“Meaning you’d have final say over allocation of funds…” You finished for him. 

“You are clever.” Remus agreed with Regulus’ earlier sentiments. You turned bashful and looked down at your lap to avoid having to look at any of them, Sirius found himself smiling at the top of your head. 

“And I just…play along?” You asked then.

“You’ll be paid - handsomely - any time you’re with any of us. And once I have access to the estate, you’ll be given a portion of it.”

“It’s no small sum, either.” Regulus assured you. 

“I will make sure it is well worth your time, Y/N.” Sirius promised. 

He let that sit in the air as he moved towards the bar and poured himself a drink before picking up his wallet. “And here.” He added as he handed you the other portion of the cash he’d taken out for you.

“What?”

“I promised you triple if you heard us out; you’ve heard us out.” He responded simply as he took a seat beside Remus. 

You fanned out the bills in front of you like you couldn’t believe your eyes; you weren’t counting them, necessarily, but proving to yourself it was real. 

“They’re terrible?” You asked then, but when Sirius looked up, he could see you were asking Regulus. 

“Awful.” Regulus murmured, eyes staring unseeingly at the coffee table in front of him as James placed a comforting hand on his knee. “Honestly, I’m…scared; not necessarily for myself, I mean, I know I’m safe and have people in my corner, but…there are so many people out there like me who don’t and…”

You nodded in understanding as Regulus trailed off. 

“Okay.” You whispered as you folded up the money as best you could and put it in your bag before standing.

“Okay?” Sirius asked as he stood, too; quickly followed by Remus, James, and Regulus.

“Okay.” You repeated, nodding once to yourself before meeting Sirius’ gaze. “I’ll do it, I’ll…I’ll help.” 

Sirius felt a smile take over his face as he looked at you - his dame in shining armour for all intents and purposes - as you accepted your jacket from James. 

“Tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it; I’ll help.”

[zweiginator]

escort!reader was sooo pretty woman tbh except arts more pathetic:((( need him to try and contact the business again and request to see you n only you… he’s getting older and his libido is changing and now he can only cum when thinking of you :(( and how you looked when you came and how you made him feel so loved and comforted by just letting him feel and see you -🌷

he was already damaged from the divorce. he had tried to go on a few dates just to mask the unbearable loneliness he was feeling but it all made it worse. the small talk and prolonged silences. he couldn't even pretend to care, he was so hurt.

and then there's you. he shouldn't even have called the escort business. what if this came out? recently divorced, pathetic tennis player has to pay for sex? it would only add insult to injury.

but you're young enough to bring his spark back, even if it's just a tiny kindling. pretty and doe-eyed and he thought he would just talk to whomever came over. bore her to death with his life story, his failed marriage, the children he barely sees.

but then you sat on his lap and you clung onto him like you needed him too. and feeling needed was the closest to sex he had come since everything went to shit.

he felt so disgusting as time passed and he still couldn't stop thinking of you. he wasn't able to get ahold of you; the company said you were on hiatus. something about you having other obligations. maybe you were a student. he hoped nothing awful happened. art wouldn't let anything bad happen to you. he feared that he would take a bullet for you. but art just said okay to the woman on the phone.

"do you want me to tell her you called when she comes back?"

art paused.

"uh--yes. please. my name is art."

and he needed you to remember him. he was terrified of what would happen to him if you didn't.

[poppy-in-the-woods]

Boyfriend experience 3x3 please!

Right away!

"Keep going, I didn't tell you to stop." He kept doing squats while you circled around him, looking at him from every angle. "You have a lovely ass and thighs," you added, giving him a light spank. "Th-thank you," he said, stuttering a little from the effort. "Okay, you can stop now. Come here." You pushed him down on the bed, sitting on his waist before he could say or do anything. Rubbing yourself against his erection, you began to remove your clothes.

[satorusugurugurl]

My Wedding Date is an Escort!

Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one my, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojo’s heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.

Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader

Word Count: 4,782

Warning: cursing, asshole Toji, mentions of blood, physical altercations—👀

A/N:The long-awaited part five! This was so satisfying to write. I hope you all enjoy it!! I think we have maybe one part left, maybe two. Omg! 🥹💚, If you want to be in the tag list YOU MUST HAVE AGE LISTED! Thank you!!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Six Part Seven Part Eight

Red. Red was the only color Satoru saw as he dragged his suitcase. He'd never felt so angry! Hurt! Betrayed! The emotions swirled and festered like an infected wound.

He'd let his walls down with you. A mistake he would never make in his life ever fucking again. It didn't matter how desperate a voice would sound on the phone. And it wouldn't matter if he genuinely enjoyed talking to the client or if they gave him the butterflies.

Gojo Satoru would never allow himself to be put into a situation like this again. One where he got hurt. Where he mourned the loss of a girl he barely even knew. A girl that left a scar on him no one would ever see.

The thoughts continued to swell and build up in his mind as he bought himself a hotel room next to the train station. They built up like a typhoon, threatening to destroy everything in its wake, all the way to his room, where he collapsed on the bed. Satoru didn't like feeling this suffocating pain. He needed to distract himself, to talk to one of the only people he trusted in this world.

He needed Suguru.

With a few taps of his finger over his phone screen, Satoru stared at himself, praying his best friend was still up. Which he was. Satoru sighed in relief as Suguru’s face took up the screen. His best friend was propped up in bed, his face dimly illuminated by the lamp on his nightstand. He took one look at Satoru’s face and cocked an eyebrow.

“What happened?”

Satoru chuckled, covering his eyes with his elbow. “Is it that obvious?”

“You just called me three hours ago. You said, and I quote, ‘You’re going to love her. She's got the prettiest eyes. Her skin is fucking flawless. I wanna put her mouth on my mouth.’ end quote.”

“I didn't say that last part!”

“You didn't have to say it, Satoru.” Satoru didn't argue with that. “So, are you going to tell me what happened??”

“I—” he groaned, sitting up, “we, well, ya’ know—”

“Fucked?”

Satoru glared at his only best friend. “No!” Suguru narrowed his eyes. “Well, we didn't go all the way.” God, he wished it had, but he was glad it hadn't.

“Okay? So, did she give you major blue balls? This isn't helping me decipher what happened.”

Although the pain was fresh and stung, Satoru rehashed the night's events. The kiss at the bar, you calling him after Toji showed up, and everything after. From your sudden confidence to the gentle caresses to the intense intimacy between you both. It had been so fierce, raw, and real. Satoru had never experienced kisses and caresses like yours; hell, your touch still lingered as he lay in bed ranting.

All of the chemistry he felt didn’t change the fact that he’d been hurt. He thought you were genuine, that you didn’t want to sleep with him just because of his good looks. Maybe, just maybe, you wanted to sleep with him because you felt the same spark that he did. A spark that would lead to sex, but from there, it might grow into something more! A relationship, the possibility of a future together.

But those stacks of cash changed it all.

The possibilities Satoru had been fantasizing about, wanting, came crashing around him when he counted the bills. You had been so unfazed by it. All you did was check your wallet before pulling out the bag with condoms in it. Your pitiful face when he asked about the money flashed in his mind. You had been incapable of telling him why you had all that money; you just stared blankly at it like you were trying to put two and two together.

Playing around like you didn’t know what was happening had set him off. Why would you have that much money in your purse? Conveniently, it was also the exact amount that he charged for sexual services. Services that Satoru didn’t typically provide. He had been honest with you. He didn’t like having sex with people that he didn’t know, so for him to find all that money, it set him off.

Satoru finished up his story, rubbing his hands through white hair. “So I left, and I missed the last train out. Could you pick me up in the morning? I want to get home as fast as I can.” His blue eyes darted towards his phone screen, where Geto was staring at him like he was an idiot. “What?” Satoru asked, looking at himself on the smaller screen. “Do I have something on my face?” His best friend let out the most extended, most profound sigh in the entire world.

“Are you a fucking idiot?”

“Huh?!”

“I said, are you a fucking idiot?”

Satoru’s eyes narrowed, eyebrows pinching together. “Why the fuck are you asking if I’m an idiot? Are your gauges too big? Did everything I say go through them and not into your ears?” He watched as Suguru rolled his eyes. “I just told you I found all that money in their bag! Right before we did the nasty! I confronted her, she couldn’t explain. That, to me, screams that she’s guilty, Suguru.” He gestured with his hand in front of him as if motioning toward the evidence before his face.

“Did you ever stop and think maybe she couldn’t answer because she was just as confused as you?”

“What?”

Suguru shifted, dark hair falling over his shoulders as he sat up. “Satoru,” he purred, “think about it. She left her bag where anyone could touch it while you two were—preoccupied.” Well, when he put it like that. “And how would you react if you found that much money in your wallet that wasn’t there before?” Satoru remained silent, not saying a word. “You claim she looked guilty because she couldn’t explain it. But what if she truly couldn’t? And you left before even giving her a chance to explain herself.” Yeah, he did; he left you crying at the inn.

Thinking back to how you ran after him, grabbing his arm, stumbling over your feet, would someone guilty do that? Try to explain themselves, beg for him to stop and listen.

“I-I don’t know how it got there, Satoru! Please! Please believe me!”

Your tear-filled eyes, the shuddering tremble in your voice, and the blatant way he’d coldly dismissed your attempts to clear things up had his stomach twisting. The fury that had been fuming deep at his core had blinded him. He didn’t even give you a chance to talk, to explain what had happened.

“I’m so fucking stupid.” He mumbled out, putting his phone down to scrub at his face. “Why didn’t I stop and listen?!”

“Because you like her.” There was something in the tone of Suguru’s voice that had Satoru glancing at his phone. “You genuinely like her Satoru, so when you assumed she just wanted to fuck you just as an escort and not as a potential lover, that broke your heart.” Satoru opened his mouth to argue. “Don’t try to deny it; you just bitched at me for like an hour like some school girl who just got dumped.”

”Fuck you,” Suguru chuckled, knowing Satoru’s words held no heat in them. “So what do I do now? Run back over there, tell her how sorry I am?”

”Well, honestly, if I were in her position, I would slam the door in your face. The whole ‘consider the orgasm, payment for the cancellation of my services’ was fucking harsh.”

”Yeah, not my finest moment.”

“Well, use that Gojo Sator charm and make it up to her.”

After hanging up the phone with Suguru, Satoru plopped down on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. That red-hot rage had faded into regret. He should have listened to you; he should have stopped the second you grabbed his arm. Instead, he pulled away, refusing to listen to what you had to say.

He made you cry like you did when you told him about Toji.

Seeing you that upset had made him sick to his stomach. He thought, what kind of dick makes a girl cry like this? He hated people like that, people that were so cruel. Now the tables had turned, and he was the dick.

God, what are you doing right now? Were you still crying? Maybe you were pacing the room, thinking about what you would do since your wedding date just up and left you. How were you going to explain this to your friends and family? Or were you dreading the pathetic, woeful faces that would be on the faces of your friends and family when you told them he left? You had hired him to make this wedding easier to attend, but he had turned it into an even worse experience for you.

Gojo had been right about you crying. You were curled into a ball on the futon that still smelt like him. Your chest heaved as you screamed into his pillow, gripping it as you let the waves of anguish wash over you, pulling you deeper and deeper into the suffocating waters of despair.

You cried yourself to sleep, waking up with a numbness in your chest as the flashbacks from the night before plagued you. It had been perfect, too perfect. The butterflies, Satoru’s kisses, the pleasure. You felt so good about him, about the two of you, about yourself, to have it come crashing down around you in seconds.

It hurt being yelled at and screamed at and blamed for something you hadn’t done. The rage and betrayal in Satoru’s eyes burned into your mind, and his words sliced so deep into your skin that they touched your soul. You hadn’t been hurt like that since Toji broke up with you, and that had nearly destroyed you. You ran away from the pain, refused to talk to anyone, and stayed in bed for days. Your heart had been broken into a million different pieces, and it took you so long to put it back together. To allow yourself to live your life.

Luckily, your heart was stronger now, scarred and rough. The pain that it had undergone a year before had made it more durable and harder to break. This heartache was not going to destroy you this time around.

Pushing yourself out of bed, you exhaled heavily through your nose before pushing your hair out of your face. You could do this. You didn't need a wedding date to survive the next two days. You were fully capable of getting through this by yourself.

You put on a smile and got ready for your day. Everything hurt, but you would be able to get through it like you had done before. This heartache would not hold you down. You headed into the kitchen, greeting your family as they cleaned dishes from the morning breakfasts that had already been delivered to guests and discussed preparations for the next two nights.

Their voices were white noise as you pulled a bowl of peaches from the fridge. They asked if you were okay if Satoru felt okay since he wasn’t with you. Hearing them say his name stung, but it didn’t stop you from moving, washing peaches, and peeling them as you preheated the oven.

”He left.” You told the truth, not the whole truth, but you weren’t ashamed to tell them he left you. Their reactions varied from confusion and anger to stunned silence and disbelief. “I’ll be okay.” You assured all of them, urging them to go about preparations for the wedding. Right now, all you wanted to do was be alone, to bake the anger and sorrow out of your system.

They granted your wish, leaving you alone in the kitchen. The atmosphere was drastically different from the night before. You giggled and smiled as Satoru stood by your side; those beautiful, captivating blue eyes wandered, watching your hands move. The heat from his gaze alone had the kitchen so hot you thought every oven had been on when they hadn’t. Now, the only warmth that flooded the space was from the oven and stove as you cooked down the peaches in syrup.

You moved unthinkingly, cooking butter into three trays, before setting the stew pot of peaches off to the side. Mind and body numb as you focused on mixing your flour, sugar, and milk in a bowl, you never heard the footsteps behind you. It wasn’t until the timer on your phone went off that you turned, running into a firm chest. You knew the smell of fresh linen masked with musk, and it made you want to throw up.

Satoru rubbed at his neck, glancing down at you. Dark circles were under his eyes as he placed his sunglasses on his head. Even when he looked exhausted, he was still handsome, which irked you.

“Hey.” He spoke softly, like his voice alone would shatter you as if you were a porcelain doll. You said nothing, stepping to the side to turn your timer off. “Can we talk?”

You ignored him, taking out the trays of melted butter from the oven. You put cinnamon, baking powder, and salt into your batter before whisking it bitterly. Satoru moved, gently grabbing your elbow and stopping you from running further away.

“Please.”

“No.” You snapped, pulling away so you could continue to construct the dessert for the rehearsal dinner tonight.

“Sweetie, please.”

“Oh my god!” You slammed the bowl down, turning to shove at Satoru's chest. “You fucking left! You left when I wanted to talk last night!”

“I know I did.”

His eyes never left your face, and his undivided attention only pissed you off more. “Well, guess what? I don’t want to fucking talk now.” Despite your dismissal, Satoru didn’t move. He stayed near your side, watching as your hands moved, putting the peaches on top of the batter. “Don’t you have a train to catch?”

“No, I have a wedding to attend—“

“The fuck you do.”

“You paid for me—“

“And you canceled your services!” Satoru grimaced as you all but threw the trays into the oven. “You paid me with an orgasm, remember?! Because I remember!”

He followed you as you headed to the sink with your dirty dishes. His hand gently grabs your elbow. “Look! Please listen to me.” He took the dishes from your hands, placing them in the sink. “I was an asshole last night, whatever this,” his finger gestures between your bodies, “it’s new and raw and real.” You barked out a laugh. “Stop, please. I messed up; I know I did. And I’m sorry for flipping out on you. But this is worth fighting over; I want to be with you.” His words were regretful; his face matched the panicked pain behind his voice.

That didn’t change the fact he’d hurt you. “Gojo.” The use of his last name had his heart crushed. “You did mess up, you hurt me.” You stepped back, crossing your arms over your chest. “Let’s be honest, this.” You mimicked his finger, gesturing between you. “This is never going to work, not after last night. I had my heart broken once after I was intimate with someone, and you knew that. You knew I didn’t want to have sex. I specified that several times. I put myself out there, out of my comfort zone, because I genuinely liked you. Now, well, let’s be honest: my heart has been broken twice now. So I’m going to ask you to leave.” Satoru swallowed hard, removing his glasses and putting them on the counter.

“Please don’t say that, please.”

“Go.” You pointed to the door, fighting back tears. “I’m not going to ask you again.”

He grips the counter before lifting his head to meet your teary eyes. “Okay,” he reached out, gently brushing away a stray tear, “I’m sorry for breaking your heart.” His gesture had your breath hitching as he turned, heading out of the kitchen with his hands in his pockets.

The moment you were sure he was far enough that he couldn’t hear you, a shaky cry left your lips. You stumbled, your legs no longer wanting to hold you up. How dare he come back and apologize after breaking your heart the night before. If he didn’t apologize, things would have been so much easier for you. You could have grown to hate him, but seeing how upset he looked hearing the pleading tone in his voice, made you want to throw your resolve away to chase after him.

But would a relationship with him work?

He was an escort. People paid him to go out with him. Could you date him, knowing that’s what he did for a living? To be the woman waiting at home for him to come back?

He said he wanted to fight for this, for you and whatever this strange relationship was turning into. He wanted to be with you. So, did that mean he would give up on being an escort? Would he be okay with that? The questions flowed like a steady river through your mind as you sat on the kitchen floor. These were questions you would never get the answers to, all because you sent him away.

Footsteps entered the kitchen as you stared at the floor. You perked up, clenching your fists tight, digging your nails into the palms of your hands. Did Satoru come back? You tilted your head up, tears streaming down your cheeks, to find Toji smirking down at you. The last person on the planet you wanted to see.

”Why are you on the floor?”

”Why won’t you leave me alone?” You snapped as you pushed yourself off the floor.

Toji hummed, leaning over the counter as you went to the sink to clean your dishes. “Because I want to talk to you. But you keep avoiding me.” You threw the whisk into the sink, whirling around.

“You wanna talk? Fine, let’s fucking talk, Toji!” You shrugged a shoulder. “Not that there’s much to talk about, seeing that you’re the one that broke up with me. And last night, you made it painfully obvious that you didn’t want to be with me. So please tell me! What. The. Fuck. Is. There. To. Discuss?!” You screamed, putting both hands on your hips, glaring daggers at the first man who broke your heart.

“Fuck.” He laughed, his eyes trailing up and down your body. “You got feisty in the year that you’ve been away.” When he saw how you glared at him, he held up a hand. “Right, right, fine, I’ll talk.” He straightened his back. “But first, did you enjoy yourself last night?”

His words had your heart dropping into your stomach. “I-I’m sorry?” You asked, hoping that you heard him wrong.

”I asked how your night was. Finally, get dicked down?”

”What?”

”Oh, right, you didn’t know.” He strode forward, grabbing your chin between his thumb and forefingers, forcing you to look into his dark eyes. “After you left, I got a job. I’m a PI, the best in the business.” You felt goosebumps rise against your skin as he leaned beside your ear. “I did a little research into this Gojo Satoru, heir to the Gojo business. It took a little digging, but I eventually found his profile in Escorts4you.com.”

You were frozen in shock and fear. “You knew?” Of course, he knew; he knew something was up the first night.

“To think my ex-fiancée hired a fucking escort to be her date to a wedding. I had a good laugh over it. But when I saw the prices, oof, I know you,” toji squeezed your cheeks, “a pathetic baker from a cafe could never, ever afford to get fucked by a pretty boy like him.”

“W-Wait—“your head spun, “wait, it was you; you put the money in my bag?”

“Ding-ding-ding,” He reached into his pocket, holding another wad of cash towards you. “¥480,000, the money you used to cover rent when I was out of a job.” He put the money on the counter behind you. “I’ve been wanting to pay you back. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“You put—you put the money—“

“But seeing that you were able to buy a high-end escort for an entire week, I figured that maybe you wanted more. So I figured I’d give you half to get the full escort experience.”

“It was you—-“

Toji smirked, gently patting your cheek. “Yep, I found your bag in the kitchen last night. Put half the money in there.” Your ears started ringing as he pulled back. “So tell me, did he fuck you as good as I did? Did he make you scream and cry like me~?” He pulled back, smirking down at you. “Or have I ruined all other men for you?”

Ruined? The only thing he ruined was what you and Satoru had. He fucked this up! It was all because of him!

“You son of a bitch!” You screamed, slapping him across the face. Toji stumbled back, grunting as he cupped his cheek in shock. “Do you know what you did!?” You slapped him again, harder.

“Ow, what?!”

“You ruined everything!” He took several steps back as you grabbed the plastic flour container, throwing it at him, which he dodged. “Yes! I hired Satoru! But I wasn't going to sleep with him!” You tossed a spatula at him, trying to close the distance so you could hit him some more. “But what was supposed to be a job turned into something more! I liked him! I liked him, you asshole!”

Toji dodged a cookie tray, “Well, tell him that!” You rushed forward, slamming your fists against his chest.

“He found the money! And he assumed I was going to pay him to sleep with me!”

“Stop it!” He snarled, grabbing your wrists, forcing you to cease your assault. “Look, I didn’t know you legitimately liked the guy!”

You snapped, yanking your wrists free before kneeing him in the crotch. Toji gasped out, hands reaching down, cupping himself as he stumbled. Vision blurring with tears, you weakly slapped at his shoulders.

“You’re always ruining everything! You broke my heart! I didn’t get to pastry school, and I lost a nice guy because of you!” A gut-wrenching sob made its way through you. “Did you stop to think that maybe I was happy?!”

Your heart was pounding, thundering in your ears as you cried, and cried, and you kept crying as Toji straightened. “Look, I didn’t know it was serious. But if you keep hitting me, we’re going to have a major fuckin’ problem.”

He hissed his vague threat through his teeth. Hearing that only pissed you off more. So you did what anyone else would to the man who broke your heart and kept butting in your life. You pulled your hand back and slapped him as hard as you could. He winced, bangs shielding his eyes as he growled.

When he snapped in your direction, he received another slap. It was when you went in for a third slap that Toji’s hand flew up, grabbing your wrist and squeezing it. He crowded you against the wall, scowling down at your smaller form.

“I told you to stop fucking hitting me!”

“I hate you! Let me go!”

“Are ya’ going to stop hitting me?!”

“No!”

“Then tough shit!”

You kicked at his shins, but he easily avoided you. You were going to kick his ass, beat him into a bloody pulp—once you freed yourself. But all the fight vanished as you saw two ivory fingers tap Toji on the shoulder. He turned around, only to be knocked back by a powerful punch. You stared at Toji, who spit out blood, his gaze locked on the man standing at six-three. Satoru shook his hand, fingers brushing over his knuckles as he glared.

His lip twitched, revealing sharp canines as he stepped forward. “Oh, you think that hurt? Wait until I get a good hit in.” He clenched his fists into tight balls, continuing to close the distance between them.

“Oh, you don’t wanna fuck with me. I’ll fuck up your face so bad you’ll never get a ‘client’ again.”

“Why you—”

“Wait!” You yelled out, jumping between the two men and holding your arms out. “Stop! Stop it!”

Satoru looked down at you as if you’d lost your mind, his momentum stopping. Toji kept moving until your fingers grazed his chest. With a deep sigh, you looked up at Satoru, giving him a gentle smile, one that had his cheeks flushing.

“I got this.” the softness of your voice was the only convincing he needed. With a curt nod, he crossed his arms over his chest as you turned to look into Toji’s eyes. “You have fucked with my life for the last time.”

“Oh really?”

“Yep!” You grinned wide and warmly before punching him directly in the nose. “Try that shit again! I dare you! I fuckin’ dare you!!”

“Oooh!” Just as you went in for another punch, you were picked up, and Satoru carried you out of the kitchen. “Easy there, I don’t want you getting arrested.”

You flailed in his arms, “I’m serious, Fushiguro!” Your ex groaned, cupping his hands over his bleeding nose as you jammed your finger at him. “That was the last time you’ll ever interfere with my life!” You glanced over your shoulder, watching Satoru grab his forgotten sunglasses off the counter before heading down the hall.

“Oh!” You heard your mother squeak out as Satoru passed them. “What’s going on? I thought you said Satoru left!”

Satoru grinned, turning to face her as he passed. “Me leave her?” He shifts, throwing you over his shoulder. “I’m not making that mistake again.” You squeak as he bounds down the hall.

“W-Wait, the cobblers! Mom, take them out of the oven!”

The halls were a blur as Satoru carried you to the room you both had shared. Only once inside, he gently places you down, taking several steps back, giving you space. You remained silent, nursing the hand you had punched Toji with.

“Do you want some ice?” Satoru said softly, eyes following you as you sat down on the futon, thumb rubbing over your red knuckles.

“No.”

You could hear him wince at your stiff tone. “Are you sure?” He slowly approached you, not moving too fast, as if you would bolt if he did. “It could make baking hard if you don’t take care of it.” Your heart slowly crawled up your throat as he sat before you, crossing his legs.

“You know what I want?” Satoru inhaled slowly, holding it for the briefest of moments before exhaling.

“No, what is it you want?”

You slowly lifted your head, eyes locked on his. He was stiff, pulse visible in his throat as he waited for you. Seeing him like this, like a child waiting to be reprimanded, had you swallowing hard as you opened your mouth, the words leaving Satoru’s eyes wide as he rocked back at your request.

“You want what?”

Tag List/ (AGE MUST BE IN BIO)

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[royalsunshinehotel]

Pls keep doing what you’re doing. You’re an incredible writer and I’m absolutely devouring your dev Patel content 😮‍💨🥰 I have a req but I just wanna sing your praises and lyk you’re doing fantastic!!!!!!

THANK YOU BESTIE!!!!! He is my muse, and also my babygirl 😤🫶🏻 I'm so glad the girlies are back in my notes enjoying my work, it makes me so happy! Send me that request whenever you feel like, I'll be here and parked ❤️‍🔥

"Jaana?" He calls to you from far away, "Have I hurt you?" You feel him sigh as you smile at him, stunned. He’s still pulsing inside of you, and he’s asking how you are? The heat of him makes you wriggle to get closer, and he almost laughs. 

You couldn’t get closer without becoming one, neither of you would mind.