#gone are the days of me toiling away on my phone screen with my finger stinging from how much i'm drawing

[phoenix-clan]

great news everyone: i will be getting myself a drawing tablet soon!

i haven't had a tablet of my own in quite a while; i've been drawing everything so far on my phone in procreate pocket lol

i would like to either move to drawing full-time on it when i have it, or alternatively use it to edit my artwork after i've drawn it in the app! either way, hopefully it will take my art to the next level!

it's kind of expensive though so i'll have my commissions open for anyone interested!

[softinkshadows]

Hot spring tales (Hisoka x female reader)

A Hisoka x female reader one-shot, with a sprinkle of Chrollo.

Situated in the HxH universe with canon timeline.

Disclaimer: nsfw, contains smut and explicit sex (but we know you're here for that)

Word count: 5000++ (wow did i just write 5000 words of smutty smut)

----

Pale, slender fingers tap against the phone screen. He finds the contact he is looking for and dials the number, raising the phone to his ear. Around him, dusk settles over the ragged terrain of the Gordeau desert. The wind gains in strength, almost pushing his combed black hair free.  The phone rings for a few seconds before the person on the other end picks up.

“Did you figure it out already?”

“Probably,” he says, his grey eyes catching the last wisps of fading light to the west. “The nen exorcist may very well be on Greed Island, which is East of York New. It seems you will need to enter the game as well.”

“Shall I procure one of Battera’s? He did buy all of the ones auctioned this time round.”

“No, that risks complicating things. What we need is a game privately owned by someone who is easily contactable, allows us to stay untraceable, preferably one who we wouldn’t have to kill and is reasonable towards helping…” he trails off, realizing that there is indeed someone who matches the conditions, someone who he would very much like to avoid for the time being… The irony of fate, he thinks, grimacing in irritation.

“It seems we will need to pay a visit to her.”

“Her?”

“I will send the address over to you. It’ll take me at least a day to get there, so you should start moving first. It would be better if you were the one handling negotiations this time round. And avoid mentioning my name, or the troupe’s.”

“Oh?” the voice on the other end piques with curiosity.

“We have… history. I’ll trust that you can strike a deal by the time I’m there?”

“Of course. After all, the chance to fight you is on the line.” He can almost hear the other man smirking gleefully through the phone.

“It’ll be dangerous, so try your best to be good, or our deal is off. Consider this a warning, Hisoka.”

----

You find yourself back at your quarters after dinner, alone in the large dressing room. Looking in the mirror, you arrange your hair neatly around your bun, making sure to tidy it for the next wave of customers tonight.

The underground auction has recently ended, and more people are flocking to your establishment. Kurohasu Onsen (Black Lotus Onsen) is renowned as the gathering-place for anybody who is somebody: a bathhouse that functions as neutral ground for politicians, powerful members of the mafia and hunters who have ties to the underworld to carry out business negotiations. A safe haven for murderers and thieves. All are welcome, although at a hefty price. The exorbitant entry fee is itself a gatekeeper of accessibility, and many have brought treasures and precious artefacts in the hope of gaining your favour. As weapons are allowed for protection, fights inevitably break out, but rarely do they erupt into something serious. All staff at the onsen are strong nen-users who pay close watch to customer behaviour. They have nen-restrainers on hand to subdue feisty ability users, and if not, there’s you, whose mysterious yet formidable presence is enough to elicit compliance. It is not uncommon to see off customers with missing limbs and near-fatal injuries, a warning punishment for breaking the establishment’s regulations. Furthermore, it is the iron-clad rule that the onsen is the one place where truce is enforced, upheld, respected. And you, the infamous proprietor, the black lotus of Kurohasu Onsen, are not someone to be crossed. Your customers are well aware of this.

You get up, ready to leave, when you turn to look at the mirror again. Your black onyx hairpin fits in and across your bun, easily reachable within seconds. Your eyes travel down to look at the black shimmering contours of your silk robe with its ornate floral embroidery, opening at two slits that end above the knee, the garment tied fittingly at the waist with a scarlet obi sash. Presentable, you hum in approval, before walking out the door.

Your secretary Esa is already waiting. “Give me updates,” You demand.

She follows you briskly down the corridor as you make your rounds to greet notable clients. Esa does this every three hours, reciting the list of new guests checked in since the last report, the rooms they booked, the meetings they have arrived for, and the fees paid. You remember everything, noting the ones who offer presents not entirely up to standard, or troublesome ones with a sketchy behavioural record.

“A while ago, a Hisoka Morow checked into the deluxe room. 50,000 Jenny a night for 2 nights, with a possible extension.”

The name catches you slightly off guard. You have never met the man, but from your intel he’s one of the most sought-after fighters at Heaven’s Arena. And a dangerous murderer too. But as far as you know, the man works alone and doesn’t get involved with politics. Why would someone like him be here?

“He has a meeting?” you turn to Esa.

“If he had, he did not say. Most likely for leisure, though. The onsen is famous for its baths too,” replied your attendant matter-of-factly.

You pause for a while to think, before calling over a male security staff with a wave of a finger. “Keep tabs on Hisoka. Let me know if he’s up to anything.” The staff bows and immediately embarks on fulfilling your order. You return to your duties for now, but the seed of suspicion and uneasiness does not go away.

---

“Ahh… now this is not bad,” Hisoka smiles to himself as he climbs into the water. He rests his head against the smooth stone edge of the outdoor bath, watching the steam lift gently from the softly rippling surface. When Chrollo told him about this place, he expected it to be dim and grimy, trawling with underworld scum. Instead, what greeted him was the pure luxury of mineral-rich baths, large clean rooms and 1000 thread-count sheets. He could get used to this. Not to mention…

His eyes wander over the bath, taking stock of the situation. Being quite late at night, most guests have retired to respective meeting rooms for drinks and negotiations, with only a smattering of visitors, mostly individuals or pairs, left lounging in the outdoor section. The only other people are the ever-present security staff, including one particularly persistent male staff standing at the private viewing balcony above. At least the nen users here are stronger than usual. A slight tremor of pleasure runs through his body, and he runs his fingers through his wet hair to shake the feeling before it builds into bloodlust. It’s been a while since he killed. He is still riled up from two days ago, thanks to the blond runt. And Chrollo, that damn bastard.

He observes the nen-users with half-closed eyes. 75… 80… 85… He evaluates. Not too shabby. Then he senses it. 97!! He feels the sudden presence, an impeccable zetsu with a tinge of icy smoothness and fiery calm toiling beneath its surface. It is enough for him to widen his eyes and sit up straight, a hot tingling sensation travelling down his spine, pleasure surging into his body for a split second, almost goading him into a fight right there and then. Well, what do we have here? He looks to the source of this pressure, golden eyes flashing and meeting yours, as you look down at him from the balcony above.

One look and you know he clearly lives up to his reputation. He is suppressing his power by default, but his presence leaves a slight prickling static in the air which only stronger nen users can detect. He also seems to have noticed you, judging by the slight shift his posture, the electrifying gaze beneath his damp red hair and the sudden tension in the air with his nen flaring, almost breaking its zetsu. Despite the distance, both of you lock eyes for a moment, each one feeling out the other, gauging abilities, locating motives. What the hell is his aim? You face the sheer intensity of his gaze with your own cold, calculating glare, both of you guarding your intentions yet attempting to penetrate through the other’s guise, staring each other down as if in a challenge. No one relents. But you can’t help but feel a rising irritation, that the man sitting naked in the outdoor bath three floors beneath you is getting under your skin, and a distracting kind of warmth creeps in... You look away. You nod to the staff to continue strict monitoring and return to your room.

Hisoka watches you leave, and instinctively his fingers run through his hair again, this time harder than the last. Oh, Chrollo… Don’t tell me that’s her? A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Oh, you were right. This is going to be dangerous.

---

You don’t hear any more concerning updates on Hisoka until later the next day. Besides using the baths for extended periods of time, and mild complaints from other guests of his lengthy and uncomfortable stares, he hasn’t caused any trouble. He hasn’t physically contacted anyone either.

“Come again?” you stop abruptly, mid-way through scanning the paper records of this month’s taxes and bills, glancing up at your secretary.

Esa clears her throat and speaks again. “Madam, Hisoka Morow has requested for a meeting with you today.”

Hmph. You scoff a little, your eyes narrowing to ponder the next course of action. You had expected something like this. There is no way someone like him would travel all the way here just to use the baths, let alone without engaging anyone. If his aim is to negotiate matters with you, it must be something quite serious, given that neither of you have gone out of your way to meet with each other previously.

“Shall I cancel?” Esa asks, ready to deliver the order and reject the fool that had the nerve to request a meeting with you on such short notice.

“No. Make it tonight at eleven, after I complete my usual rounds.”

“Understood.”

---

It is night, and the onsen quietens for the day. Only the soft rushes of spring water from the outdoor baths and the muffled sounds of late-night negotiations drift by. You find yourself finally seated across from him in one of your private meeting rooms, both of you silent but never once taking your eyes off each other, quietly assessing one another.

Now up close and clothed in a blue yukata, accentuating the red hair that falls close to his shoulders, you can’t help but find him just a little more attractive than you imagined. His golden eyes are calm, steady, even confident, a rarity for anyone for finds them in a room alone with you. Most people would have bowed their head in submission long ago. You keep your own icy composure. But the force of his nen suppressed under zetsu, his incredibly toned body beneath his yukata and that arrogant way he looks at you make your body feel warmer than usual.

When he sees you for the first time that night, seated on the far end of the room, he feels it again. That powerful presence that keeps goading him, that sends electrifying jolts through his body. You’re seated comfortably on the floor, almost reclining, yet the hard, murderous edge of your gaze shows you are constantly on guard. Simply exquisite. He almost licks his lips but controls himself. A fine opponent… to kill? No, no, much too soon… that would be a waste. Chrollo comes first.

The meeting hall is much too large for two people, spanning over 24 tatami in size. On both sides, paper screen doors open out into an elegant view of the autumn trees in the estate, shedding its red delicately in the wind. A long, low black lacquer table in the center of the room separates you and him, each of you seated on either end. Silence continues to hang in the air. A staff gracefully pours a luxurious blend of sencha into the cups, before she places the tea pot and tray on the floor, bows, and takes her leave quickly. You notice Esa hovering by the doorway to the room.

“Esa, you may go.”

“But Madam-” your secretary protests but stops as you give her a glare. She of all people would understand you’re probably the last person in the establishment who needs any form of protection. As her footsteps recede down the hallway outside, you turn back to the man in front of you.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you today?”

“It has come to my knowledge,” Hisoka finally speaks, and the slow, sly curl of his tone lights another fire in you, “that you are in possession of one of the most sought-after items in the world of late. I have a pressing need for it and would like to negotiate a deal.”

“I’m a collector of the rarest treasures, so you’re going to have to be more specific,” you scoff, taking a sip of your tea.

“I’m talking about a certain game.”

“Ah, Greed Island,” you retort indifferently, although inwardly puzzled. Why would he go to such lengths just for a game? Didn’t seem like the type. “What makes you think I’ll agree to your request? What is in it for me?”

Hisoka pauses, contemplating something before pushing onwards with a slight smirk. “I’m not sure if you know of a certain man by the name of… Chrollo Lucilfer?”

He waits for the intended effect and sure enough, you react. Immediately, at the mention of the name you’re hit with an unpleasant sensation that makes you grit your teeth, and your eyes blaze with a hint of fury. Without realizing, a cracking sound fills the room as the cast iron tea pot on the floor dents with the force of your nen.

Hisoka looks at the pot quietly before he smiles, lifting the tea cup to his lips, his eyes only growing darker as he trains his gaze on you. Interesting. “May I know, if it’s not too much to ask, the reason for your disdain of the man?”

“I’ve known him for a long time. He tried to kill me twice, once on purpose and the second time by accident. Clearly, he did not succeed,” you say, finishing your tea.

Beautifully exquisite. Another thrill runs through his spine, almost making him tremble with excitement. Perhaps it would be safe to suggest…

“I’m looking for Chrollo. He’s been running from me for a while now, and last I heard he has been spotted hiding out in the game. I would very much like to settle our score soon. Of course, perhaps to your advantage I fully intend on killing him, with pleasure,” Hisoka continues, waving his hand in the air with dismissive complacency.

“If only it were so simple,” you retort, knowing the full potential of Chrollo’s abilities. “And how can I take you for your word?”

“You can’t.”

You look up in mild distaste at Hisoka. What a bastard. You could slit his throat right now, with that cocky expression of his. And yet, your body feels a little hot when he’s looking at you, his gaze ruthlessly penetrating and his nen just on the edge of flaring.

“Name your offer, Hisoka.” You say his name for the first time, aware of how his gaze hardens when you do so, and your body burns with a strange desire which you suppress under the guise of irritation.

“I’m not offering.”

“What?”

“Allow me to use the game, or I will go on to kill everyone in this establishment, including your precious secretary and all your guests. It’s been a while since I had fun and I won’t stop when I do.”

The audacity. You slam your cup on the table and glare at him, your nen bristling beneath the surface. It was a mistake to let him into the bathhouse. And the worst part is that he is right. He could take out everyone except you here with ease, and you’d lose your manpower, your reputation, your business. Everything you worked hard for since leaving meteor city years ago. Perhaps it’ll be wise to dispose of him right here, right now.

In a split second, you draw the long onyx pin from your hair, leaping across the length of the table with such grace and speed that the tea in Hisoka’s cup barely ripples, as you aim for this throat, slicing the air in front of you. He dodges at the last moment, his eyes wild with a feral look as you nick of a few strands of his hair and the sharp edge of your hairpin draws a faint red line along his throat. He grins. He’s clearly enjoying this. He moves to land a counter-attack but you jump away. You’ve put distance between the two of you again; you grip your hair pin, calm and poised for another strike, while he similarly crouches, one hand reaching to stroke the mark you made on his throat.

“Now you’re just getting me excited,” his voice drops to a low purr.

Here you are, seconds after nearly killing him, and you feel your body reacting to his voice and his unapologetic desire. You know you have the power to end him, yet a tingling sensation creeps over the lower half of your body. You can feel sweat starting to gather around your stomach, while another warm wetness pools further below, between your legs. It’s been so long since anyone made you feel this way. Not since… Your thoughts are interrupted as he appears behind you, aiming for your head.

“Pay attention, darling.”

There’s barely any sound in the meeting room as you and Hisoka continue to spar in near complete zetsu, restraining nen to avoid alerting the attention of other guests and the security staff. His eyes gleam more with your every strike, his moves maintain its strength but do not get more forceful, and neither do yours. You feel the exhilaration of the near-misses, of your bodies brushing against one another before pulling away, the light friction of fabric against fabric, as if locked in a graceful dance that neither of you want to end. Moonlight cascades through the open balcony, and there’s a glint in Hisoka’s eyes.

“Let’s stop pretending we’re serious about killing each other, shall we?” he quips with a smirk.

His words register, and you halt. You weren’t noticing it before, but he is right. You weren't trying. You falter for a moment too long. Then he rushes you, pinning your body down onto the floor with his own weight, brute force mixed with excitement to the point that his nails dig into the straw of the tatami below, ripping it slightly. He raises a hand, about to spill your blood, when your control slips. Before, your brief exchanges saw your body feeling hotter, winding tighter as it did more cautious. But now, with him pressing down onto you from above, not pulling away, gripping with a strength that few possess and with a wicked look in his eyes, you can’t keep it down anymore. You let out a throaty moan as his holds you hard, feeling your underwear getting more soaked with every passing second. His eyes widen in surprise, and he pauses. You and him remain quiet like this for a while, the wind from outside gently caressing both your bodies, teasing out an answer.

Then, as if on instinct, both your mouths crash together. Neither of you are ashamed at the pure lust that erupts between the two of you, bloodlust still not completely abating which spurs you and him on even more. His tongue slips into you mouth, determined on stealing your breath, your hand clasped around your hair pin still trapped within his, his ferocious strength barely just surpassing your own as you do not back down, struggling against the restraint. It is still a fight, after all. Yet his other free hand trails down your silk robe, slithering between the open slits to your thighs before raising one of your legs to wrap around his torso. You moan into his kiss and move against his clothed body, desperate for friction.

"Patience, my dear." He pauses, giving you a sadistic grin.

You’re not going to let him keep staying in control. In a surge of strength you topple and roll over him in a flash, slamming him to the floor and stabbing the pin right into the tatami next to his head, at which Hisoka lets out a loud groan. You press and rub yourself against him, leaving small bites along his neck, your hair starting to come loose and fall to the side of your face from the exertion. The warmth between your legs grows, and it’s not just you. Hisoka is only wearing underwear beneath the yukata, and you feel his erection, hot and hard beneath your rolling hips. You feel your own slick starting to run down your inner thigh, and you ache to be filled.

You pull away and gaze down at Hisoka, who’s just starting to get a little breathless with desire, his eyes clouded with lust. You pull the hairpin from the floor and aim it at his throat. You command, your voice cold and edged with arrogance.

“Stop wasting my time and just fuck me already.”

At this, Hisoka lets out a low growl, flipping you on your back, almost tearing the obi around your waist to shreds with his hands. His mouth latches onto your neck and you cry out, as his hands reach under your bra to free your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers, alternating between gentle strokes and forceful pinches. Your body shakes with pleasure and you grind against him, your hands fumbling to move his yukata out of the way. You cover your palm over his bulge, which is already straining hard against his underwear. He bites a little harder on your skin as you do, goading you on. You reach beneath the fabric, stroking his most sensitive spot, and you feel him shudder against you. Oh, to have such a powerful man like him at your mercy.

Before you have time to think, your pleasure increases ten-fold, white-hot and surging through your body as his fingers find their way to your slit, obscenely slick with your honey.

“Oh? This wet for me already?” he murmurs into your ear, sending shivers down your arms and making you moan.

He sits back a little, his piercing gaze boring into you as he lifts his fingers to his lips, licking it clean. “So sweet,” he whispers, his eyes never leaving you, almost taunting your state of helplessness before him, and you twitch with pleasure.

“Shut u-” you demand, stopping short with a intake of breath as his tongue circles your nipple and he thrusts two fingers into your aching slit, expertly thrusting, stroking, caressing, hitting all the right spots as you can’t help but moan and fist his soft, red locks. His thumb finds your bud and rubs, with increasing pressure, matching the circling motions of his tongue. Hisoka pulls away and looks down at you, panting and wriggling beneath his touch, your words incoherent but eyes still fierce with power and control, and he finds himself growing harder, unbearably hungry. You feel his desire through his nen, bristling with lust, fingers coaxing you to bliss and eyes ravishing you unabashedly for everything you are and you feel yourself pushed nearer to the edge.

“I’m close,” you gasp, and you see Hisoka smirk dangerously as he pulls his fingers out of you. The pleasure that builds now cuts short, tapering off.

“Kisama,” you mutter in annoyance as you ram his body against the side of the lacquer dining table, pushing him into an upright, sitting position. He chuckles at your urgency and vexation yet remains turned on as you clutch your hairpin over his throat as a warning. His golden eyes are glazed over and quivering, a sign he is properly riled up, his hair now a mess, and his breathing is slightly heavier than before. You pull his large erection free from his underwear.

“You bastard. I’m not going to give you any time.” You growl, and his eyes grow more piercing.

You lower your soaking, aching pussy onto him. The stretch makes both of you groan in unison, and you almost come immediately from his entrance. He is huge in both girth and length, and it takes a while before you’re accustomed to his size. It was so long since you had proper sex with anyone. After he is buried in you to the hilt, you pause, glaring at him with a look aggressive with lust and a need for control. He moans in pleasure and you feel his grip on you tighten considerably. Then you move, slowly first, then quickening your pace, rolling and rubbing against him so his cock enters you at the best angles. His hands reach up to grab your hips, steadying you while he snaps up into you, pounding with such speed it makes your mind go blank with pleasure.

“Ahh-h—h!” you moan, louder this time, shaking with the mounting pleasure as he enters you fast, viciously, more than you can keep up with. You get wetter with each of his thrusts, squelching and slapping sounds filling empty room as he pulls out and fills you completely again with each punishing stroke. You feel yourself nearing your climax, your body swaying and jiggling with the rhythm as your bounce on Hisoka's cock, pressing your fingers harder around his body.

He senses it too, and growls, refusing to take his eyes from yours. You feel his nails rake your hips, grabbing your ass, pain and pleasure intermingling as your near your end. Waves of white-hot pleasure wash over you as you moan into your orgasm, your eyes closed in bliss as you tremble violently, clenching tightly around Hisoka, muttering curses as you come completely undone.

Before you have time to come down from your high, Hisoka pulls out, his rock-hard cock dripping with your honey, before grabbing you and laying you down on the table, towering over you once more. Then he fully sheaths himself inside you in one go, making you cry out at the jolt of oversensitivity as he pushes towards his own end. Using the slick from your orgasm, he goes even faster now, relentless, his hands holding your legs wide apart so he can have unfettered access to you while he slams into you without restraint.

"You like this, don't you? You like being punished like this?" He purrs with forcefulness, a sign he is close, lustful gaze boring into yours while he pummels into you.

You can't help but shudder at his words, but you spit out through gritted teeth. "Don't get cocky. And don't you dare finish inside, or I'll kill you before you are even done."

His control snaps. You feel his cock twitch inside of you. Then he pulls out and comes, moaning with deep satisfaction in your ear, his warm load spilling onto your stomach. After he finishes, you both gaze as each other for a while, barely out of breath, sweat glistening against skin. Your clothes are both in a mess and disarray, his hands are still spreading you wide and bare torso pressed against you as you both bask in the afterglow, sharing a moment to take in the surreal pleasure of what was an extremely unplanned but steaming hot round of sex.

"So with this, do we have a deal?" He breaks the silence with a devious smile.

"I'm not that cheap if you think once is enough." You retort as you clean up, pulling your clothes back on. "At least three more times, with an additional fee of 300,000 Jenny."

"Aren't you a greedy one," Hisoka smirks, tying his yukata back in place. "Alright. It's a deal, not like I'm complaining. I might deliver more than you ask for." His golden eyes travel across your body once more before meeting yours, and you can still see a faint glimmer of lust, ready to be reignited.

"Enjoying yourself?" An icy voice comes from the darkened doorway.

You don't even need to look to know who it is, recognizing the voice immediately. Cold grey eyes gaze at you from a figure leaning against the entryway.

"Chrollo," you almost spit out.

"Ah," says Hisoka naturally, "you're finally here."

You turn to scowl at Hisoka, realizing his blatant lie from earlier. You wonder for a moment how Chrollo even got in to the onsen without your notice, given that him and the troupe remain high up on your guest blacklist. Then you sense his nen, or rather his lack of it, a blur void except for the vague tinge of someone else’s foreign nen around his chest. A contract, then. He's harmless now.

Chrollo steps into the room, dressed elegantly in a black yukata, his hair let down comfortably. "Seems like you taste in men hasn't changed. I took a gamble on that." His steely grey gaze, piercing, calculating and formidable in confidence, still make you tremble a little, despite knowing him for years.

You take a while to understand and chuckle, looking from Chrollo to Hisoka. "Seems like we both got played."

The latter narrows his eyes at Chrollo before running his hand through his hair, sighing. "Well, as expected of him. Again, not like I'm complaining."

"Hisoka, leave us for a moment," you order.

"As you wish." You feel him step out but loiter along the corridor, waiting to pick up on the following conversation. Now it's just you and Chrollo left in the room. He doesn't move closer to you.

"It's been long. Too... long." Chrollo speaks, his voice calm but you detect a tinge of nostalgia, affection, regret and caution all entangled in one.

You know what he means. You can even see it now, the times he drove you wild, nearly killing you with nen. You can see all the times his lips met yours, growing a steady fire with a kiss, his fingers grazing your skin and making you moan and whimper while you grasp his hair tight in your hands, your mind blanking and feeling the universe come apart and stitch right back together...

"You won't be able to handle me now, in your current state. I would break you. It wont be pleasurable for any of us," you reply coolly. You catch the sound of a stifled laugh from the hallway outside. "Once you get your nen back, I just might reconsider."

You stand up, letting your silk robes fall gracefully past your knees once more. You arrange your bun and slip the onyx pin back into your hair.

"You can use the game tomorrow. I'll have it prepared. Tonight, I'll be busy receiving my payment. In full." You pause a little next to him, giving him one last, long look, before walking out the room and towards your quarters, Hisoka trailing behind.

Alone, Chrollo's eyes are deep and unreadable. Unconsciously, his hands are balled into tight fists by his sides. Then he breathes deeply, chuckling to himself.

What a woman. "Hisoka, you'd better get the job done. Fast."

---

Notes: omg this took way longer than i expected to!!! I’m quite proud of this one ;) I got inspired by a mobage card of hisoka, chrollo and the phantom troupe at an onsen and decided to do this imagine piece! Hope you enjoyed my fellow hisoka simps, it was so fun to write ;)

[10millionyearsdungeon]

His Girl Friday

So! Shindou-mas was upon us! In honor of our favorite supporting character, we have a sordid tale of personal assistants and a week in the life of the notorious hero Grand. As part of a mini-collab with a few lovely writers from the BNHarem server!  ============================= “Your case files are on your desk, Grand. I took the liberty of filing them from oldest to new to help you catch up.” 

Shindou sat behind his heavy oak desk and flashed you his most dazzling smile. His nimble fingers unbuttoned the top two buttons of his pale yellow shirt and ran absently along the tanned skin of his throat. You had only started working for the hero as his personal assistant for little over six weeks now. Your temp agency had pre-assigned you to his agency but wouldn't disclose the reason why they pulled you from your prior assignment in Nagasaki. Your eyes lingered a half-second too long before you swore his perfect, sun-rivaling smile grew predatory. 

"Is there anything else I can get for you, sir?" Your thighs shifted together beneath your pencil black pencil skirt and you hoped he didn't notice your squirming. He took the files you tirelessly worked over and shook his head. 

"I think we're good, Y/n. Thank you."

You excused yourself from his office and beelined to the restroom. Splashing cool water on your face brought you back; you always suspected that your new boss was a flirt. Hell, he dictated his fan replies to you and his responses to the anonymous masses that elevated him up the Hero Billboards ranged from wholesome and sweet to downright lewd. 

"He is your boss and this is just a job! We do not lust over our boss like some ill-mannered slut!" you scolded yourself in the mirror. With a huff and slightly better control over yourself you strode back to your desk and started on the next mountain of paperwork to fill out and catalog for your boss. 

You felt like you had been working over reports and case data for backlogged cases for hours. A sharp buzz pulled you from your fastidious toil and the smooth, charming voice brought you back from data abstraction. 

"Y/n, could you cancel my dinner reservations tonight? I'm afraid it's going to be a late night for everyone." 

"Uh, yeah, sure thing." 

"Oh, and call Tuesday in, would ya? You're the best."

The line went dead and you sat confused by his request...or maybe it was the heat that bubbled under your skin at his praise? Numbly, you opened his planner and hovered your mouse over the events for the day. "It's Monday. Why am I calling Tuesday's staffer in?" In your grumbling, you noted a tall, thin woman with soft blonde hair falling past her shoulders in cascading waves of spun gold stride past your desk. Wrapped in a tan trench-coat, her heels clacked softly on the polished floor of the agency. She always came on Monday, but you never thought anything of it. She didn't even spare you a glance as she pushed through the double doors and into Shindou's vast office. He greeted her with a wide sweep of arms and that obnoxiously gorgeous smile of his. The blonde woman giggled in his arms and sat herself across from his plush throne. Shindou made his way to the doors and shut them, flashing you a glimpse of that same hungry grin you swore you caught earlier. 

With a raised brow, you shook your head and dialed the number affixed to the Tuesday staffer's sticky note on your planner app.  Naturally, the call went to voicemail. 

"Um...hey, this is Y/n from Grand Hero Agency. Grand is calling you in to work for the night. Thanks." Awkwardly, you hung up the phone and tuned the rest of the world out as you poured over your reports again. Your heart still hammered in your chest as you felt his eyes burning into you. Those harsh obsidian chips had a way of causing your brain to short circuit. Part of you wondered if that was a lesser known part of his famous quirk-- bringing women to the brink of stupidity with just his devastating grin? You sighed through your nose and pursed your lips at the report. Soft moans pulled you away from your work and you turned to the closed doors of his office. 

Maybe you were mistaken. Your lip caught in your teeth, you strained to hear the conversation inside the office but there weren't any words. Another moan, louder this time, rattled the heavy doors of Grand's professional sanctuary. Blood rushed to your head and heat settled in your core. Spluttering over your desk, you squirmed in your seat and tried to imagine what depraved acts your boss was doing to pull those moans from his blonde companion.

Another girl, short and with a mess of red curls piled high on her head rushed through the department and stopped herself at your desk. Her chest heaved as she fought to catch her breath, sweat glistened down her pale, freckled collar bones. Even a mess she was a vision in olive green, and her eyes were pale ice chips set in porcelain. If the first woman was poured gold and refinement, this one was that one wild night in the pub wrapped in a pert little package. 

"Don't tell me they started without me!" 

"Ah! He's expecting you," you whimpered out in an attempt to hide your shame. The sprite bounced to the double doors in a huff and threw them open. The image of Shindou Yo's head nested between the slender, golden thighs of his blonde Monday staffer would be forever burned into your retinas. Her elegant head threw back against the plush leather of his office chaise and her long willowy fingers pulled through his jet hair as he coaxed another high keening moan from her glossy lips. The red headed newcomer held her hands on her hips and stood in the doorway. You drank in the scene and found yourself unable to pull away. Every fiber of your being screamed for you to look away and continue about your day but you just couldn't. Slack jaw and burning cheeks, you swallowed down your shame and sunk deeper into your chair only to feel his sharp, hungry eyes on you again. A silvery string of slick hung between his mouth and her glistening folds and the sight sent white-hot heat straight to your abdomen. Sinful smirk stretched across his handsome features, he dragged his tongue slowly along his slick-coated lips and waved the redhead over while he rubbed his golden goddess's thighs to help her come down from her high. With a pout the newcomer closed the doors behind her, leaving you in a puddle of your own desire. 

You stepped away from your desk and began to make your way to the stairs. Air. I just need to get some air and then I can focus again. Heels in hand, you ran down the ten flights of stairs to the street level entrance. Your lungs burned with exertion, but the ten floors of steel and concrete between yourself and your boss only eased your unrest enough for you to think through the haze of your desire. His lascivious gaze stuck with you as you leaned against the cold glass lobby door. 

It was hardly fair, the strain he put you under. He knew he was gorgeous, a literal god among humble mortals, and with his quirk he could have anyone he wanted. The longer you mulled over the implications of catering to the hero, the more lost you became. He knew what he did to you the longer he kept you on payroll. You could feel it when his eyes lingered on you whenever you brought him his decaf oat milk latte with extra espresso shot, or how he would gently vibrate his fingers against yours when you took his dictation. Your breathing slowed only to hitch at the thought of his tongue lashing at the dewy pearl between those bronzed thighs. What you wouldn't give to take her place sprawled out on that leather sofa carding your fingers through his jet hair as he nipped and sucked bruises into your thighs. Heat rose to your cheeks and suddenly the chill of evening was gone. Ignoring the gnawing, wet ache in your core, you sighed heavily through your nose. It started as a rumble through the foundation of the building and ended in a cascade of shattered glass with Shindou Yo triumphantly groaning his release into the skyline.

+++++

Wednesday marked the beginning of a new day with a new set of struggles. Grand would be out of the office, saving you the embarrassment of facing your boss at least one day this week. As you stretched and went about your morning preparations, Shindou's predatory stare haunted you. The warm, bitter aroma of hot coffee sloshing in your mug kept you grounded. Tiny scratches along your arms from the shower of window shards stung with every pull of your limbs as you dressed for the day. It would be at least two days before the building contractors replaced the windows. Maybe this time they would replace them with something more durable to seismic-grade vibrations than rudimentary glass. You pulled out your phone and squinted at the screen.

Message: Shindou Yo - Y/n, I have a few errands for you to run after sending those finished reports off to the HPSC. My list is already uploaded to your planner. You're the best, doll! 

Your breath caught in your chest. It wouldn't take but a few hours to finish and courier over the reports, but Shindou's personal errand list? You cautiously opened your planner app and highlighted "Wednesday" with a trembling finger. This was a man quite capable of anything, and your career, your livelihood was in his large, devious hands. Much to your surprise (or was it disappointment?) his errand list was fairly innocent. Grocery lists, dry cleaning and package pick ups, it all seemed pretty self-explanatory. Every errand was detailed down to the minute, and for a moment you found yourself wondering why Grand even needed a personal assistant to keep his life in check. Dressed in your modest gray pencil skirt and white quarter-sleeve collared shirt, you took a quick look in the mirror. With a sigh, you steeled your nerve. This was your life now-- just another powerless pawn at the beck and call of a celebrated hero. You packed up your laptop bag, topped off your travel mug, and started your commute into the city. 

Your key turned effortlessly in the tumbler of the deadbolt on his penthouse door. It was a feat with how many bags and hangers you had hanging from your arms. You cursed your boss and his arrogance. It was borderline harassment what he was putting you through. As you pushed through the doorway with Grand's parcels and bags, huffing to yourself over his arrogance, you swore you could hear the softest grunts coming from inside the suite. Dutiful assistant you were, you hung the tasteful slate and navy suits and dry cleaning in the foyer. Silence continued to permeate the suite as you worked to replace the groceries in the fridge and tidy the kitchen. Internally, you thought about calling the maid service if only to keep the penthouse clean for the careless bachelor. 

"Hnnghnnn!!"

You froze and held your breath-- you knew that voice. A sickening crack resounded through the suite and was answered by another keening groan. A cool, low voice exchanged clipped, stern words. Your curiosity bubbled over and your skin burned scarlet at the vision swimming into view as you quietly emerged from the kitchen and into the open expanse of the playboy's living room. If the vision of his raven head buried between the bronzed and oiled thighs of a golden goddess left an impression, the sight before you would remain with you to the grave. 

Rich, wine ropes dug into limbs hardened and sculpted by years of hero field work and honing his multifunctional quirk. Sweat dripped from the tip of his nose and onto the polished hardwood as he hung suspended by a bolt from where you assumed a light fixture once hung. A heavy black blindfold velcroed tightly to his handsome face kept him blindly sweeping his head to find his playmate. Sinful mouth was left woefully unattended and you felt your panties grow damp at the thought of all the horribly lewd noises about to be coaxed from his saliva-coated lips. But the cherry of it all, red and angry, weeping onto the floor bounced proudly against his washboard abs with every twitch and sigh. He curled backward, spine arched deliciously and stretched his pecs with every heaving breath. The leather-clad woman in thigh-high boots and fishnet bodysuit didn't even register as you drank in his helplessness. 

"I want you to sit and think about what you've done, hero." Her voice was red wine and dark chocolate. It was night in the dungeon and her word was final. Her riding crop came down on the pale, toned flesh of his buttocks with another loud crack, earning another loud moan and a violent twitch of his neglected cock. Precum beaded and glistened at his swollen head, the light catching it in a way that made your mouth water from your hiding spot. As the imperious Amazon left the scene, your body moved on its own. Creeping through the dark, you sat on hands and knees beneath the quivering Adonis in his crimson silk harness. Wetting your lips, you raised up on your knees and dragged the tip of your tongue along the seam of his balls, up the thick vein running the length of his heavy shaft, and twirled around that leaking, hot head. He was all salt and heat on your tongue, a taste you could grow to appreciate under different circumstances. He let out a hiss under your tongue as you dragged the pad of your tongue against his head in soft kitten strokes. Your fingers drifted between your thighs and ran carelessly along your clothed silt, your slick rendering the cotton fabric useless. Grand was brought low by a Quirkless civilian, and all that remained was Shindou Yo, bound and moaning into the empty expanse of his penthouse. He keened above you and helplessly thrashed against his harness to seek more friction from your eager mouth. For a moment, you obliged taking his girthy length into the heat of your waiting mouth. He melted into his restraints and into the warm, wet cavern, helpless to your slow ministrations. His moans were low, needy notes littering their shared space. How frequently did you find your thoughts coming back to his penthouse? You moaned into his length and rubbed tight, sloppy circles on your clit over your drenched panties. The head of his cock pushed to the back of your throat. His poor, neglected cock twitched, and you felt yourself begin to come undone. His whimpering and frantic panting spurred you on until reason seeped back in through the cracks of your lust-hazed thoughts. 

"I know you're still there," he sighed, still struggling against his binding. "I can smell you. You're loving this, aren't you? C'mon, sweetheart...is that the best you've got?" 

His words, that sinful, husky voice doused whatever fire you had burning in your loins. He knew you were here. How could he not? Maybe he wasn't anticipating you finishing his list so soon? Or...more likely, in all his meticulous planning he wanted you to find him like this-- beaten and vulnerable, open to your advances. The door creaked open, signaling your chance to escape. Abruptly, you pulled his aching cock from your lips and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Scrambling gracelessly in your nylons against the hardwood, you dove back into the kitchen. Mistress Wednesday strode confidently into the frey, riding crop in hand. Harness slung across her hips in elegantly embossed black leather, her own proud length in dazzling ultraviolet was anchored to her crotch with a heavy steel ring. Eight inches and rivaling his own girth, your eyes rested on her gloved hands and how they worked to nimbly prepare his needy, puckered hole for the beating it was about to receive. 

It was too much to take in. The scene unfolded and elevated to a higher level of filth you were far from accustomed to, and you, despite every cell in your body screaming to stay and enjoy the show you silently stole away. The only sound signaling your departure from the suite was the gentle click of the deadbolt latching between Shindou Yo's hungry moans. You called in sick the next morning agonizing over whether or not it would be poor form to put in your notice. 

++++++

 You fidgeted at your desk when he crossed through the foyer to his office. It was a patrol morning, and naturally he had to grace his staff with the morale boosting sight of the boss hitting the streets just like the lowest-rung side-kicks in his employ. His bare chest glistened under the fluorescents. Sweat dripped from his pretty-boy brow and harkened back to that moment when he was curled back on himself, sweat dripping down his sinew and steel body for an entirely different reason. It was all you could do to avoid his sharp, onyx gaze and that heart-melting smile. 

"Y/n, I hope you're feeling better," he grinned. God, how you hated that grin! "We missed you yesterday."

"Ah, yeah. May I help you with something, sir?" 

He canted that gorgeous, raven head of his and narrowed his eyes at you. "Actually there is." You waited for him to finish, your heart leaping into your throat the longer he loomed over your desk, but he never did. Instead, he sauntered through the double doors of his office and gestured for you to follow. Numbly, your feet followed before the rest of you could catch up. 

Contractor tape still lined the window panes, a reminder of the last time you were caught in his crosshairs. You squirmed mulling over the implications of his quirk, your position, and how inexplicably tangled you had become in his daily life. As he pulled off his faceguard and set the sweat-stained support gear on the rich oak hardwood of his desk you felt him burn through you as if committing every exposed freckle to memory. He zeroed in on your lips and smirked, holding his arms open as if to invite you to take a moment and fully appreciate him for the god among men he was. 

"Like what you see, sweetheart?" 

You swallowed hard and nodded before you could stop yourself. It seemed to be the right answer because in seconds he was on you, pinning your back to the desk. He leaned over you, nose barely brushing yours and licked his lips slowly. His stare was downright predatory as he loomed over you, hands heavy and rough pawed at your poly-blend wrapped hips. He gripped at the dark fabric and eyed you hungrily. The breath you didn't realize you were holding slowly escaped through gently pursed lips, the preamble to what should have been your verbal notice. But something in his stare kept you silent, submissive. The possessive hold he had on your hips kept you grounded, but the scent of him after a patrol sent you reeling. Effortlessly he lifted your hips and slid your skirt down your legs, hoisting them over his shoulders once freed. It was his turn for his breath to hitch in his throat-- he drank in the sight of your damp, silk panties and dragged his tongue along his lips as if imagining how your fluttering walls would feel convulsing around his tongue. Pupils blown, he raked his eyes over your half-dressed frame. 

"Shy? I thought we'd be long past that, sweetheart." He lowered his head and dragged his lips across the soft skin of your inner thighs. "After all, I still have to return the favor," he purred, dragging his tongue in one broad stroke up along your soaked, clothed cunt. A shuddering gasp broke through your self-imposed silence and you all but melted into his mouth. He hadn't even used his quirk on you and he had you quivering into his mouth. You felt him grin that feral, wolfish grin into your heat and the lift of your lower back from the cool, hardwood of his oak desk. How many times did he seduce and lay waste to his catch of the day? It barely mattered as you carded your fingers through the tangle of black curls and opened yourself to his advances. Shame was an afterthought you could afford if it meant you could satisfy that carnal curiosity surrounding your boss. 

"Y/n, who knew you'd be such a lewd little slut." He pulled your panties to the side easily and teased your clit with the very top of his tongue. It started with a low, steady hum and graduated to a heavy buzz focused entirely on the head of your tender bundle. The sensation brought you to the edge almost too quickly. You fought against his hold, squirming and writhing with your legs squeezing helplessly around his head as he continued holding his tongue against you. Incensed by your sudden fight, he slipped a finger easily into your drooling hole and searched for that spongy spot that brought white stars to the edges of your vision. A moan, high and sharp ripped through you as he pulled his mouth from your now swollen pearl. Hungrily your cunt clenched around his finger, and soon he added a second. Your eyes clamped shut at the sudden addition and your body tensed around him. He planted soft kisses and gentle bites along your thighs as you slowly came back to a baseline he deemed appropriate. The moment he felt you relax, you felt it-- a hook of two calloused fingertips digging mercilessly up into your g-spot, vibrations resonating from deep within. You kicked and fought to writhe away and again he held you fast against the desk effortlessly. You tugged and pushed at his head, your end coming all too quickly. Your breathing grew frantic, moaning out half syllables and empty pleas for him to stop. 

"Yo!!"

Shuddering into his mouth, you rode his fingers to completion, legs trembling around his ears like his own personal earthquake. He withdrew his fingers and brought them to his lips, groaning at the taste. Shindou palmed his half-hard cock through his hero suit and lowed his head for a taste from your source. Satisfied, he pulled your ass lower down the desk and helped you find your feet back on the ground. Your heels long forgotten, the carpet felt foreign under your bare toes when he turned you around by the hips and bent you over the desk. His hands lovingly dug into the meat of your ass and spread your cheeks to peek at your holes from a different point of view. 

"So sweet, little miss secretary. So submissive. Who would have guessed you'd be such a dirty little voyeur, too…" he purred in your ear. The shuffling of fabric and the soft sound of skin sliding on skin punctuated his statement. "Bet you never thought you'd be part of the show, huh?" You whimpered under his caresses, slick dripping down your thighs as he ground his thick cock between your cheeks. 

"Please, sir…" you moaned, rubbing your thighs together for some semblance of friction to ease the growing ache. "I can't. I need you."

He ran his hand down your spine and rubbed soothing circles over your hips. "Use your words, sweetheart. Sir can't give you what he doesn't know you want," he teased. The head of his cock rubbed between your thighs, catching your swollen clit and earning a soft moan. "Say it."

"Please let me cum on your cock, sir!" 

As if that was all the permission he needed he sheathed himself into your needy core in one stroke. Spasming, you felt as if your joints would pull apart from the pleasure alone. He stilled inside you and gave you a moment to adjust, if only to revel in how tightly your velvet walls hugged around his girth. Satisfied, he gripped the back of your neck and rocked his hips into the plush muscles of your ass and thighs. You reached before you and dug your nails into the desk, moaning out like the only two adults left in the entire city were the two of you. Wanton and wanting you rocked back, earning a low groan in return. His hand wound around your hair and gave an experimental tug as he picked up the pace, the head of his cock curving into the soft sponge of your g-spot. White hot, pleasure surged through you from fingertips to toes and left you screaming his name as you came around him  

"Yo! Fuck me, please don't stop. Yo, don't fucking stop!" 

He grinned above you and pulled your back tight against him, spine arched beautifully by the hair you continued to whine and beg as he rutted his hips against you. "That's it, sweetheart. Let loose a little. Sir's got you. That's it. Cum on Sir’s cock again."

His words enough could have been enough to be your undoing, but it wouldn't be Grand if he didn't bring that little extra something to the scene. He sheathed fully, angling up and pulling hard on your hair to kiss his head to your tender cervix. Stars flooded your vision, and your legs threatened to give if it weren't for the strong hold he had on your hair and the solid desk beneath you. He didn't budge from your tight, fleshy ring. As he held you, he closed his eyes and focused his quirk into that spot he just knew few before him had touched. Deep, rumbling vibrations threatened to rend your soul from your still breathing body as you convulsed and clenched rhythmically on his cock, milking him. Words were lost. The longer he fed on your spasming body, the sensations and sounds he could pull from your pliant, willing little holes, he felt himself get lost. 

"Cum, I'm cumming again, Sir! Fuck, I can't fucking stop!!" With one last spasm, he let go of your hair and let your body slump over his desk as he took your ass in his hands. He spread your cheeks and watched as his cock disappeared into your tight pink sheath and sloppily gave a few more thrusts before digging back in and releasing with a low, gravely groan. Hot, thick ropes of white coated your abused hole as he continued his release. Your body trembled, cunt still clenching tightly around his softening member, and you whimpered softly into the desk. First emptiness set in, and then anxiety. Emotions crept back in where lust once sat, and all you could do was slowly piece together what just took place. 

As if sensing your growing distress, Shindou scooped you into his arms and peppered your cheeks and nose with chaste kisses. His tenderness seemed out of place given how savagely he had used you moments ago. The leather couch was cool against your after-glowing skin. He left you briefly, retreating to his private restroom, and returned with a washcloth. 

"You're okay, sweetheart. You did so good. Better than I ever expected." He crooned over you as he gently wiped the remnants of his spend from your leaking hole. "Looks like you passed. Congrats, we're hiring you on full-time, Friday," he grinned coyly. It took a moment for the gravity of his words to sink in and finally it hit at once. In your fucked-out haze, you barely registered what he meant. It was going to be a long rest of your career.