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lessthanpure · 1 year

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Making the Best of it Chapter 3

Fandom: Baseball RPF

Pairing: Pete Alonso/OFC

Others: Jeff McNeil

Summary: Dating

Word count: 3539 (also a very good number)

AO3 link

Notes: So I honestly forgot I had a blog, sorry y’all. I’ve been posting solely to AO3, though not under any schedule. I’ll try to remember to cross post here.

The day rolls around and Pete agonizes over what he's going to wear. He'd narrowed down the choices over the past couple days for something simple and comfortable but still impressive. He eventually settles on a dark red button down and black slacks. He showers, puts on cologne, and dresses. He grabs everything he needs and heads to the restaurant.

Sloane debates between a yellow, flow-y dress and a blue slightly-more-fitted one, but settles on the yellow sundress. She takes the train into the city, then uses the subway to get as close to the restaurant as she can. She puts her pink cat in her fingers the second she's up the steps, paranoid. But with her experience, she figures she has a right to be paranoid. She walks into the restaurant with a small grateful sigh. She puts the keys into her purse. She walks to the desk. "Hi. Reservation for two under Pete, please," she says to the man behind it. He looks through the book.

"Ah, yes. Your dining companion for the evening isn't here yet, miss. Feel free to have a drink at the bar until he arrives."

"Thank you so much." She goes to the bar and gets her ID checked. She'll be staying sober tonight, so she orders a Shirley Temple. She lets Pete know she's there and slowly sips.

Pete arrives and looks at the bar to find Sloane. He exhales when he sees her. The yellow is so pretty against her tan skin, and her hair is styled in loose waves over her back with a small clip holding two thin strands against the back of her head. "Hi. Two for Pete, please," he says to the host. "The second person in my party is already here."

"Your table is ready, sir. If you'd please get her and then follow me."

"Of course."

Pete walks to Sloane. "Hi," he smiles at her.

"Hi," she smiles back.

"Our table's ready," he says.

She nods and gets off the stool and puts some cash on the bar. Thankfully not a lot- she wasn't waiting long. Sloane follows him, her half-full drink in her hand. The host leads them to a booth set into a wall of them near the back of the main dining room. When they're both inside and the host had put the menus down, Pete unties the rope holding the curtain to his side and lets it drop, shielding them from the restaurant at large.

"Nice. A little cloak and dagger," Sloane laughs lightly.

"Mark said this was the best way," Pete says. He folds his hands on the table and looks at her. She's gorgeous. "You look nice."

"Thank you. So do you." Pete smiles.

Sloane picks up her menu and he does the same. They're silent as they read. "Appetizers," he asks.

"Sure."

"What are you thinking?"

He waits while she reads. "Do you like shrimp?"

"Yes."

"Want to do that?"

"Sure."

There's a gentle knock on the wood beside the curtain. Pete pushes the curtain aside, revealing a smiling man in a dress shirt, tie, and half apron. "My name is Jeremy, I'll be your server tonight," he introduces himself. "Can I get you two anything besides water to drink?"

"I'll have a regular Budweiser," Pete says. "And could we have the shrimp appetizer, please?"

"Of course," Jeremy says as he writes. "Would you like a refill, miss," he asks Sloane.

"Not yet, thank you."

"Alright. Your beer should be right out," he directs to Pete.

"Thank you."

"You're very welcome." Jeremy leaves and Pete pulls the curtain closed.

"You said you like to do metal and woodwork, but you never showed me any pictures," Sloane says.

"I didn't? Oh man, I meant to. Here," he says, getting his phone out.

"Can I come sit next to you," Sloane asks. Pete nods and moves over. The booth is pretty small, so he can't get far. Sloane sits next to him. Their sides touch, and she's warm. He opens his photos and his gallery of pieces. He angles his phone so they can both see. She leans in and looks at his screen. She smells like vanilla, like he knows. She must be wearing some kind of coconut perfume or maybe a hair product. The scents mingle pleasantly in Pete's nose. "Oh, wow," Sloane breathes. Pete's face warms. It's nice when someone appreciates something you put time in. "That's incredible." Sloane examines the wood, seemingly taking in every piece of it. "Can I see another?" Pete flicks his thumb.

Sloane examines each piece carefully, in awe. They seem light- the lines in them are airy. They're all abstract. She wishes she could work in anything other than 2D. Drawings are nice, but having a physical piece to show for your effort must be incredible.

"That's all of them," Pete says.

"You do beautiful work," Sloane smiles as she straightens. Pete's cheeks are dusted red. She'd been smelling his sandalwood the whole time they'd been sitting next to each other, and it has a sweet note under it. He's also wearing some kind of product that has an undercurrent of leather. The scent is masculine, but not overpoweringly so. It's not in your face, more subtle. It suits him. "You should be proud."

"I am," Pete nods, smiling softly.

Sloane gets up and moves back to her side. She's almost cold without his body heat. "What do you like about working with those mediums," she asks.

"I don't know," Pete admits. "They're so different, you know? Wood was my first thing," he shrugs. "It seemed...accessible. And pretty useful. I started out making picture frames and cutting boards. Then branched into simple furniture. Until I started making art. And then metal just seemed interesting. It's fun, being creative."

"It is," Sloane smiles. She's about to say something else when someone knocks on the wood besides Pete. Pete moves the curtain aside and a man sets their appetizer in between them and puts a small plate in front of each of them.

"Enjoy," the man says.

"Thank you," they say together. The man walks away and Pete lets the curtain drop. Pete lets Sloane take a few shrimp before he takes any.

"Your drawings are amazing, too," Pete says. He's always been impressed with people who can draw. Before he started working with wood and metal, he didn't think he could draw anything other than stick figures. That's why he sticks with abstract. As he draws his ideas out, he got better. Sloane does beautiful work of landscapes and figures, scenes with dynamic poses.

"Thanks," Sloane smiles. Her vanilla sings in his head as she blushes. They eat, stopping often to talk. Pete is amazed at how easy it is.

They order entrees- a burger for him and salmon for her. Pete makes her laugh a few times and his heart races every time he does it. Her laughter is nice- bubbly and inviting.

At the end of the meal, he takes the check but Sloane insists on leaving the tip in cash. They walk out of the restaurant. "Do you need me to call you a car," Pete asks.

"I took the subway," Sloane tells him.

"Do you want me to walk you to the stop?"

"You don't have to, Pete."

"I want to," Pete says gently.

Sloane smiles at Pete's thoughtfulness. "Thank you. Let's go."

They walk slowly, enjoying each other's company and talking. They arrive at the subway way too soon for Sloane's liking. "I had a really good time tonight," she says, facing him.

"So did I. Let me know when you get home so I know you're safe," he asks.

Sloane gets on her toes and he leans down. She kisses him gently on the cheek. "I will. Thanks." She walks down the stairs, not seeing Pete's wide grin. He takes a car home.

He leans against his door when he gets in, head back against it with a smile on his face. 'I'm home,' he texts her.

'I'll let you know when I am, too.'

Pete keeps his phone near him as he gets ready for bed. He stays up to do a few dishes. She texts him when he's finished. 'Home safe. Thanks, Pete.'

He smiles at his phone. 'Good. Talk to you later.'

'Talk later.'

Pete goes to bed with a smile on his face. "She kissed me," he whispers to the dark. He rolls onto his side and goes to sleep.

Sloane gets home and texts Pete, letting him know she's safe. After they finish up their conversation, Sloane texts Kensie. 'Just got home from the date with Pete.'

'Can I call,' Kensie asks.

'Go for it.'

Kensie does. "Hey," Sloane says.

"How was it," Kensie prods.

"Amazing," Sloane admits, putting her phone on speaker and unclipping her hair. "He was a complete gentleman. Walked me to the stop after I declined his offer to call me a car."

"That's awesome, Sloane. Did you kiss him?"

"On the cheek. We have time."

"Yes, you do. Night, girl."

"Night."

Sloane hangs up and gets ready for bed. She smiles as she curls up.

Pete texts Jeff the next morning as he has his coffee. 'The date went great.'

'Awesome, Pete. Did you have fun?'

'Loads.'

'That's great.'

Pete and Jeff get together with a few of their other teammates, including Canha. "I checked out Wehner's a few days ago. It was awesome," Pete tells him.

"I really liked that place," Mark grins.

"Did you take anyone special," Nimmo asks.

"You said you wouldn't tell them," Pete accuses Jeff.

"He didn't," Nimmo says. "You just have the look. So- did you?"

"Yes," Pete admits. "It's brand new, I don't want to jinx it," he cuts them off at the pass.

"Are they good-looking," Lindor asks.

"She's stunning."

The others rib him mercilessly.

Sloane picks out the next date- a diner in the city with retro decorations and has the servers dress up like they're in the 50s. Pete had assured her it was ok if he was recognized, but he isn't. He walks her to the stop again.

Sloane pauses and then gets on her toes. Pete leans down and she braces her hands on his shoulders and kisses him softly on the lips. She pulls away after just a second and he doesn't try to push for more.

"Goodnight," Sloane says.

"Goodnight. Text me when you get home."

"I will."

Pete grins all the way home now that he knows what Sloane's lips feel like against his. They're even softer than he had dreamed.

Pete is between Sloane's thighs, and he grins sexily up at her. He dips his head and licks her out, keeping eye contact until her eyes roll back in her head. His mouth is amazing, and his beard tickles her thighs pleasantly. She reaches down and rakes her fingers through his hair. He inches forward and licks deeper, making her whimper.

Sloane wakes up blushing and wet. She touches herself to the memory of Pete's talented tongue. She whimpers and cums.

Pete gets home from a long night out and rolls his shoulders as he gets in his apartment. He yawns widely and barely bothers to take off his shirt and pants before he collapses into bed. He goes right to sleep.

Sloane is sitting on the foot of his bed and wearing one of his white dress shirts. She's absolutely swimming in it, and it would be hilarious if he wasn't hard, imagining having it smell like her. The shirt is unbuttoned to show a lovely amount of skin, enough to tell she isn't wearing a bra. As if the shadows of her nipples through the material wasn't enough of a clue. Pete growls and approaches her, putting his nose to her neck and inhaling. She smells deeply of him already from the shirt, and he gets harder. He puts his hands on her sides and spreads his fingers. Sloane tilts her head back and hums, smiling. "Thought you might like this," she says smugly.

Pete presses her to the bed, not worrying about talking. He lets his actions speak for him. He nuzzles into her throat, inhaling. Sloane strokes his jaw, fingers dragging. He shudders. She pulls him up and kisses him deeply. He licks into her mouth and she whimpers beautifully.

"I wanna knot you," he growls when he pulls away to let her breathe. Sloane chirps and puts her head back. Pete takes the invitation, biting gently and then soothing with his tongue to mark her. Everyone who sees her will know she's his. "Can I," he asks against her skin.

"Yes, Alpha." She wants to take his cock, he can smell her slick.

Pete hums, smiling. He pulls back enough to see what he's doing and pulls his shirt up over her black panties. He touches her soft stomach and thighs. She's soft and smooth and just his size. She gasps at every touch. "Pete, please," she whines. Pete chuckles and scents her again. He's going to make sure she's dripping with his scent. He leaves his shirt on her and Sloane helps him undress. He grabs her hip and rolls onto his back, propping her up above him. Sloane whines. "Pete?"

"Want to see you ride me," Pete says, voice thick with lust. Sloane nods, blushing, and takes him in hand, directing him to her hole. He groans when he feels how wet she is. She sinks onto him slowly, mewling. He has to fight not to thrust into her. He wants her to take her time- he's not exactly small. But she accepts him easily into her wet heat, clinging to him without being tight. By the time he's completely sheathed in her body, they're both trembling. "How does that feel," Pete manages to smirk.

"Perfect," Sloane moans. "Like you were made for me."

Pete groans at the idea and touches her waist with his right hand, the other on her hip. She gets her knees under herself and lifts herself half up before dropping down. He sits up, supporting her, and kisses her. She sucks on his tongue, which makes him growl. They get into a rhythm, and he helps her sink onto his cock. She's wetter than anyone he's ever had- so much so that it makes obscene and arousing noises every time their hips meet- and it thrills him that she wants him so much. He gives a harder thrust than he means to, and she makes a high noise. He's about to apologize when she whimpers and grinds her hips against him. She pants. "Talk to me, baby," he coaxes.

"Fuck, love your cock," Sloane moans. "Gonna want it in me every day." She takes a gasping breath and releases it in a moan. "Want you to fill me and knot me up, Pete. Want to feel you dripping out of me." Pete snarls, imagining filling her with his cum. "Alpha, Alpha, Alpha, please," she begs. He slides his hand from her hip to her clit and rubs gently. She whimpers and cums. He has to grit his teeth to hold himself back, feeling her clench and flutter. Sloane leans forward when she's come down. She bites his jaw gently, her small fangs scraping against his stubble. "Don't hold back, Pete," she murmurs. "I want you."

"Not yet." Before she asks, he flips them. She hums and wraps her legs around his hips.

"Fuck me."

Pete obeys, making her cum twice more on his cock before he lets himself knot her. He cums into her, shaking. She moans at the sensation. He tries not to just collapse onto her- he's heavy. He gently lowers himself instead. He pants, tasting their combines scents and bringing them into his lungs. They taste perfect together.

Sloane licks his jaw, soothing him. He rolls them onto their sides. Sloane runs her finger gently down his nose and he smiles. They both laugh lightly.

"Thank you," Sloane whispers. She stretches, presenting. Alpha pride washes over him. She's almost asleep, he fucked her so well. He noses into her neck gently. "That was great," she says. She reaches down to where they're joined, and he's so hard that the light pressure of her trailing fingers makes him whine. Sloane makes an apologetic noise and takes her hand back. "Sorry, sorry," she whispers. She licks his jaw. "Just wanted to feel you." He hums, blushing. "I love how you feel inside me."

"You feel amazing," he replies quietly. She hums, pleased. Pete noses into her neck.

"Night, Pete," she mumbles. He pulls back slightly and watches her fall asleep, long eyelashes fanned against her cheeks. He goes to sleep still inside of her.

Pete wakes up hard and leaking. He checks the time, hoping he has time. It's time to wake up and he cancels his alarm before he gets out of bed, wincing and grumbling. He jerks off in the shower and gets ready for the day.

At the end of their next date, Sloane kisses him a lot longer than she has so far. She rubs his jaw with her thumb and slightly opens her mouth. He takes the invitation, sliding his tongue on. He holds her close and savors the kiss. She pulls away from his mouth. "I have to go home," she says, and he hears the regret in her voice. Pete nods and drags his hands off of her. She makes a tiny whimper when he's completely let go. Pete almost growls at the sound but reigns himself in. His jaw tingles pleasantly from the memory of her finger the whole night.

Sloane's mom calls her the next day. "Hey, Mom," Sloane says, taking off her shoes.

"Hi, sweetheart. Listen, your siblings asked if we could have a family dinner."

"Sounds good. When?"

"In two weeks, on Saturday. You can bring Pete if you want." She stills.

"Mom, it's still pretty early. We're not in the 'meeting the parents' stage."

"It can't hurt to ask. Besides, we never thanked him for saving you."

Sloane sighs. Her mother won't be swayed. "Fine. I'll ask on a couple of conditions. One- no one brings up the word 'saved.' It embarrasses him. Two- no one asks for a picture or autograph. Three- no one asks him questions about the team or what it's like to play baseball."

"Deal."

"Bye, Mom."

"Bye, sweetheart."

Sloane hangs up. She debates and then texts Pete. 'Hey. No pressure- and you can totally say no- but my family wants to meet you.' She bites her lip and sends it.

Pete looks at his phone and his heart stutters. 'Are you sure you want me to meet them,' he asks, nervous. It's been a while since he's been at that point in a relationship.

'Of course. But like I said- no pressure and you can say no.'

'I'd love to meet your family, Sloane,' he smiles as he types.

'Sweet! I'll send you the details once i have them.'

'Ok.'

A few days later, everything is finalized and she sends them to Pete. He confirms them.

The day of, Pete might actually be more nervous than he was when he was preparing for their first date. 'What should I wear,' he desperately texts Sloane.

Sloane looks at her phone and smiles. Pete is adorable. 'My family's pretty chill. I'm wearing a t-shirt and jeans.'

Pete relaxes. 'I'll do the same.'

Pete drives to Sloane's mom's house. When he gets there, he sits in the car for a second to steady himself. Then he picks up the flowers and wine he had gotten and approaches the door. The inner door is open, leaving the outer glass one open and he can see inside. He hears slightly muffled music and laughter. He knocks on the glass. Sloane comes to the door and smiles widely. His heart beats harder and he smiles softly back.

Sloane opens the door. "Come in, we're almost done cooking."

Pete follows her to the kitchen. There's a woman at the stove who looks like just like Sloane. "Mom," Sloane calls, and she turns. "This is Pete."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Barnette. These are for you." He hands over the flowers and wine. She smiles and takes them.

"That's so thoughtful, Pete. Thank you. Call me Blaire."

"Sure."

Sloane takes his hand and introduces him to her dad. "Sir," Pete extends his hand to the man who has Sloane's eyes.

"Call me Tony," he says with a smile and shakes his hand.

Pete also meets Sloane's siblings- her older sister Christine and her brother Max. Pete easily falls into a rhythm with them. It's as easy with them as it is with Sloane. The food is delicious when it's ready.

At the end of the night, Pete is worried about showing affection in front of her family, but she reels him down and kisses him softly. Her brother whoops and she flips him off without looking at him. "Text me when you get home," Sloane says.

"I will. As long as you do the same."

"Deal."

Pete steals another kiss and then leaves, smiling.

#pete alonso imagine #alpha beta omega dynamics #fanfiction #reader insert

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not-the-usual-suspects · 2 years

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His head was swimming, but he couldn’t remember how he got there. He let out a small groan and tried his best to ignore the wet nose pressed up against his face. After a moment he scratched the dog’s head before he managed to push himself up into a seated position.

“Oh, finally awake? Marley, down.”

Marley? ... right, the dog. The dog’s name was Marley. His name was Joe. At least he could remember that much. He looked over to where the voice came from, still a bit delirious, but didn’t mind the fact that the dog - which looked like a terrier of sorts - wanted to get up on his lap to cuddle with him.

But the woman that was there? Her skin was tanned, which was paired with almost dark blonde hair pulled back into a braid. It was a loose braid, and it harbored what appeared to be a few strands of ribbons, and she definitely looked like she was born to be in the middle of the desert.

He couldn’t get over how pretty she looked.

“Hello?” She waved her hand in front of his face, and he shook his head to get back to his senses. “You with me, bud?”

A small pause. “Yeah, I... I think so,” he muttered. “Where am I...?”

“My living room,” she explained. “You crashed your bike and had a pretty nasty meeting with the concrete of South District, so until you can get on your feet again and have your new cit ID, you’re stuck hiding out here.”

He blinked, a small frown on his face as he tried to remember. He could remember saying goodbye to the girl he’d been chatting up at the bar; fetching his father’s old motorcycle from the shed; finally getting it working before he sped through the streets of the City.

It was hazy from there, but he did recall that a strange light that appeared from the alley to his right. He’d turned the bike to head that way and investigate, but when he realized it was a large doorway of sorts he tried to get the bike to stop.

It hadn’t worked, and he’d fallen through the doorway. The next thing he could rationalize was being found by the woman and her dog.

“Right... yeah, it’s... it’s startin’ to come back to me,” he admitted.

The woman let out a small huff, and handed him a glass of ice water. “Here, drink up. You’ve been out for over a day, and honestly I was getting a bit worried.”

He took a sip, but couldn’t keep the smirk from his lips when she mentioned she was worried. “Aw, really? Worried ‘bout little ol’ me? I’m flattered, babe, but--”

“I’m going to stop you there.” She had pointed a finger towards him, and the smirk quickly fell from his face. “All these pet names stop right now. I could cut you some slack because you were delirious before, but it’s not gonna fly now. Got it?”

Seems I hit a sore spot... He nodded at her question, a hand held up in surrender. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “Sorry ‘bout that...”

She let out a sigh, and brushed some of the loose strands of hair from her face before she gathered up her shoulder bag. “I’ve got to get to work, so I’m leaving you here in good faith that you’re not going to wander outside. Or take anything that isn’t yours.” When he was about to protest that he wouldn’t do anything like that, she gave him a small glare. “And believe me, Marley fits the role of a guard dog very well. You don’t want to test him.”

Joe was left speechless as she walked out the front door, a small click as she locked it behind her. He hadn’t been expecting such a raw confrontation from her, but at least now he knew better than to try his luck.

He may have been reckless, but he sure wasn’t stupid.

#The Hopeful Native [Felicity]#The One Left Standing [Joe Wilson]

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codgod-moved · 3 years

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woah it’s just like that scene in toy story where andy is like “i don’t need you anymore” and throws woody away but instead it’s jimmy and he’s trying to fly out of the afterlife because he just died again so i guess it’s not like that at all

this is the 2k dtiys!!! i have completely forgotten how these are supposed to be run but uh. no real rules besides y’know. don’t just draw an entirely different drawing because that’s silly. but u can changed the colours/lighting and stuff like idc it’s ur drawing. and no deadline or anything if that’s something ppl do. one note i have is u can do ♥︎ hearts instead of the anatomical ones if you want i just wanted to be fancy lol. OH and tag me in them obvi i’m gonna reblog any and all that ppl do 👍

taglist even though idk if it’s weird to put this on a dtiys post: @veryfoolishgamers @minecraft-cow @empiressmp @the3rddenialist @moonlight22oa @rockydrago @funkily @renchanters @bugsprouts @popcornsalty @suurrii @thatonesheep @cabbagegunk

#3rd life smp #last life smp #3rd life jimmy #last life jimmy #jimmy solidarity #solidarity gaming #2k dtiys #.png #tw.gore #kinda with the hearts #if this flops like. well almost every other dtiys i’ve tried to do that’ll be embarassing #but oh well this is a cool drawing anyway so i’m glad i drew it #no image id #< sorry i’ve been slacking with those i just have no energy left by the time i post #eyestrain #also because of the hearts

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eternalduo-updates · 3 years

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eret is in his fashion arc!

#the eret #eret #id in alt text #twitter #SORRY for the spam i’ve been slacking </3 - bunny

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kate-komics · 2 years

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Your Mand’alor(s)

Sorry I’ve been slacking on Image descriptions lately, I’ll try be better folks ❤️

[ID: Comic style digital drawing of Din Djarin, the Mandalorian, and Boba Fett standing together in front of the Tatooine binary sunset. The sky a gradient of orange to purple from top to bottom with a white boarder to frame the 2 figures and the 2 bold yellow and red suns. Boba and Din stand in full armor, both adorning unique beskar crowns on top their helmets. These crowns do not rise in spikes as typical crowns, but slope down to frame the front of the helmet. Tusks spike around the cheeks in sharp edges to mimic the tusks of the mythosaur, an animal and symbol important to Mandalorian culture. Din’s crown is a metallic black, made from the dark saber, and Boba’s is a striking silver, made from the beskar spear. END ID]

#the mandalorian #star wars #din djarin #boba fett #comicart #the mandolorian fanart #katekomics #voices of the dark

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 years

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eat your heart out | s. hitoshi

➳ tags ;; 18+ mdni, femdom, escort!shinso, sugar mommy / client reader, fem!reader, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, porn with plot, mutual masturbation, sub!shinso, kinda bratty shinso, reader is rich n powerful, facesitting, unprotected sex / creampies, shinso is a lil insecure, wine / alcohol (both parties r mostly sober), heavy praise kink lol, no titles, mouth-spitting (u spit wine into shinso mouf)

➳ wc ;; 10.2k (i’ve lost my mind ..)

➳ a/n ;; inspired by the song ‘the hills’ by the weeknd. sorry it’s a little late!

➳ plot ;; shinso hitoshi is an escort and you are his favorite client. the weird thing about it is that well.. you’ve never actually slept with him before. after spending a day with you and the influence of a little alcohol - he can’t help but wonder why.

The elevator plays a familiar tune

It’s always a Frank Sinatra song in this hotel, on the eastern end of Kyoto. It’s a big building, reaching the heavens despite it’s almost unholy architecture. All glass, bulletproof windows that surround the lowest floor like a skeleton, and floors of hotel rooms stacked on top of each other like Jenga. Despite the time - somewhere after midnight but a little ways before dawn, every single room is lit up with familiar yellow lights. The city never sleeps, he supposes.

It’s always busy, the luxury hotel boasts more than just rooms and suites but a casino in the basement and a buffet somewhere towards the back. With all of the work under his belt, he still feels like he has to catch his breath when he enters here. The receptionist's desk is made of a stained, glossy cherry wood and hosts a big chandelier over the top of it. There’s a petite woman working at the front desk - she looks unusually relaxed.

A lingering scent of dark liquor is always the most obvious thing, mixed in with expensive cologne and cheap perfume. He watches older men with women half their age seated in their lap. The women in these places are always beautiful, no matter how much they cut corners for their job. All types of bodies in all types of clothes with little underneath them. The only difference between an escort and a prostitute is the material of their outfit, really.

They have hungry gazes when he enters the foyer. Like animals maybe, raring to go at the sight of him. Dressed in an expensive dress-shirt, slacks, and a blazer hung lazily over his shoulder. He can understand the confusion.

He doesn’t have the heart to explain they’re of the same profession so he normally gives them a soft wave and a wink - whatever gets them to smile quicker. And after that they giggle and go back to entertaining whatever rich man has bought their attention for the night.

He thinks he’s been in this field for too long for this to make him sick but he can’t help but wince a little every time. His stomach churns with something wide and vague, something that leaves a bitter feeling in his mouth.

He drapes himself over the receptionist desk with a lazy grin.

“Hello, here for a room under the last name L/N?”

The woman at the desk has her eyes widen at the sight of him. He doesn’t consider himself all that interesting looking but he knows he’s handsome. She blushes as she types something into her computer swiftly.

“Name and ID?”

He slips his wallet out from his back pocket before reciting his name back to her. A few more brief moments of waiting and slips him a slim and all black keycard. She can’t bring her eyes to look at him again.

“Y-you’re on the 7th floor,”

He gives her a quick smile, patting the desk with his palms and snatching some candy out of the little bowl.

“Thank you,”

He turns on his heel, popping a mint into his mouth before throwing away the wrapper in an overly glamorous trash can near the elevator. He presses the little button and waits - pleased to see that no one else would be accompanying him.

He slips himself into the empty elevator and immediately presses the button for the 7th floor. It’s Frank Sinatra - specifically ‘I’ve Got A Crush On You’, playing at almost full volume. The melody is soft and light. He hums it under his breath as the doors start to close in front of him, getting a final glance at the foyer before they do.

This whole place is surrounded by mirrors, so he steps back and checks his appearance. He looks a little more disheveled than he really wants too, given he was just with another client. His beard is scratchy per the request of his last one and he really hasn’t gotten a lot of sleep. His body is physically spent and he’s worn out beyond belief from last night.

The money in his pocket prevents him from being upset but he wishes he could look a little better for you. The thought of it has him blushing, skin faintly pink as he pokes and prods at his appearance. Straightening his slacks, fixing his button down.

He knows it’s entirely unnecessary. Acting brand new with you really makes no sense at all. You’re his longest client, and his favorite one of all of his regulars. It’d probably be an understatement to call you special but he knows it’s true.

It’s silly to think about it too hard, but he can’t really control it. His stomach turns and flips but before it can too long - the elevators pry themselves open. He’s greeted by a seemingly never-ending hallway. The floor is draped in a lush carpet, velvety red and the walls have the most expensive and white-gold wall-papers. He’s been in this exact position a million times, it’s always the same room and the same place. The same hotel.

Everything about it is exceptionally familiar to him but the nervous feeling in his belly is unrelenting. Unforgiving, really. He steps out of the elevator and walks into the main hallway - looking both ways only to find it devoid of any life. The air is stale and ice cold in his lungs as he walks towards the door.

727 sits pretty on the front, plastered on a cream-colored piece of wood and hung up. He knocks on the dark grey door 3 times, and taps his foot anxiously. There’s some shuffling on the other side and when the door swings open.

He’s seen this, done this, experienced this a million times before. But no matter how many times he looks at you - he feels like the air is being knocked out of his lungs. With his breath snatched from right beyond his ribs, he gives a soft and wide-eyed stare.

You answer the door with a lazy smile - nude lipstick softly smeared and dark eye-shadow partly smudged. It’s how you do your makeup when you’re going to parties, he’s come to realize. You must’ve just gotten here, the way you’re still dressed in your clothes. It’s a pantsuit - all black with a low-dip on your chest. It reaches a bit past the floor so it bunches at your slippered feet. He stumbles back, his heart hammering upon laying lavender eyes on you.

“Hey, stranger,” ― you greet, hanging off the doorframe ― “Nice of you to finally make it,”

Shinso gives you a sheepish smile as you move out the way for him to enter, shutting the door softly behind him. He can feel your eyes on his figure as you lean on the wall and watch him slip off his dress shoes and put on slippers. You take pleasure in watching him and he knows that, can tell as much.

If he didn’t feel so nervous around you - he might’ve been smug about it.

“Sorry I’m late,” ― he replies, slipping his blazer onto a chair before turning to face you ― “Finding an Uber this late on a Thursday night was rough,”

You shake your head as if telling him not to worry about it. You lock the door behind you as you step to him. Shinso is taller than you by a few inches, enough that you have to reach your hand up. You cup his face with your palm and he relaxes into it without so much as a second though.

That funny feeling stirs inside of him again, chewing on his lower lip as you greet him with such affection.

“No worries, Shin,” ― your voice is remarkably low ― “Are you alright?”

He knows this isn’t really about his mental state as much as it’s literal. You always ask him that out of instinct. He thinks you have a sixth sense about when he’s been with a client or maybe the exhaustion is just that obvious. He isn’t sure he wants to find out which one it is. He blinks at you, skin pink, almost nuzzling into your hands. That hungry feeling returns with no subtly as he nods.

“She was gentle with me,” ― he tells you, unsure of how to be in front of you, like always ― “I’m fine,”

You pat his cheek before removing yourself from him. And the affection and warmth is gone too quickly for his liking - he’s hoping he’ll get lucky tonight and that you’ll ask him to come lay with you for a while.

“Have you eaten anything?”

As if on cue, his stomach rumbles faintly causing you to break out into giggles as he blushes even harder. Without missing a beat, you hand him a book for room service and sit next on the edge of the bed, patting the spot beside you.

“Come here and tell me what you wanna eat, yeah?” ― you lean back, shaking out a crick in your neck ― “I’ll order it for you while you’re in the shower,”

He gives you a confused look but sits next to you anyways, flipping through the menu as he balances it on his leg and yours.

“I don’t have any clothes,”

You chuckle a little, patting his knees.

“I bought you some,”

A strange feeling settles inside of his heart upon your words. He squirms a little in his seat, scratching the back of his neck before clicking his teeth.

“Tsk, you didn’t have to -”

“Do that for you. Just tell me to bring clothes next time,” ― you finish for him, laughing lightly ― “Spare me the lecture, Shin - I’ve heard it a million times already,”

He glares at you playfully before sighing, dropping his head onto your shoulder. His head feels light, skin tingly.

“Whatever,” ― he huffs ― “..Thanks, though,”

This makes you laugh again and Shinso ignores the way his whole body reacts to the sound. The little pleasantry shouldn’t have this much of an effect on him. He hopes and prays you can’t hear the way his heart sounds.

“Yeah, yeah - you’re welcome. Now pick something out and go shower,”

You already know what he wants to eat but you watch with content as he goes through the menu anyways. It’s always the same - fried chicken and some form of potatoes and sometimes he’ll let him get dessert. Most of the time, you order it for him even though he never asks and it seems like today is one of those days.

He points out the same thing, like you had predicted before grabbing the bag of clothes and heading to the shower. You don’t look at him twice when he leaves, grabbing the remote and immediately getting comfortable in the wide, queen bed.

The bathroom is a nice reprieve to cool Shinso’s nerves.

It’s huge, this bathroom. Meant for a couple - given the way there’s a heart-shaped bathtub, rose-petals, and a large bottle of bubble-bath soap sitting on the counter, wrapped in ribbon. The ceilings are high and it’s well-lit like you could see every detail - but there’s a little knob to dim the lights too.

He stares at himself in the big, oval mirror. He can almost tell how flustered he is as he stares at himself for a long while. Silky purple locks now droop with the heaviness of the day, and his eyebags are worse than usual. It’d be polite to call him haggard and he finds himself embarrassed to look at his reflection.

Really, he just finds himself embarrassed to exist in your presence. For as long as this exchange has gone on, Shinso always ends up at his wits end. He checks his appearance with urgency and can’t help but zone out as he thinks about every single thing he’s done since he arrived with an ever increasing amount of scrutiny.

He decides promptly that these are thoughts that belong in the shower so he sighs and turns away from the mirror - stripping himself of his clothes. He unbuttons the white dress shirt and shrugs it off his shoulders, undoing his belt and ungracefully tugging his pants and boxer briefs down in one fell swoop. The sudden feeling of cold air all over his body makes him shiver.

He turns again to examine his figure. His body is muscular in its own right but he’s mostly lean muscle. His torso is thin and his stomach is flat but nothing about him is all that defined other than his upper arms. His forearms are thick and veiny.

His entire body could be described as an acquired taste he thinks. Even bare naked, he doesn’t think he’s all that bad to look at. He’s exceptionally well-kept thanks to his job - hair above his dick trimmed nicely. He’s clean everywhere. There’s nothing.. wrong with him physically he doesn’t think.

Shaking his head, he opens the glass shower door, turns the water as hot as it can go, and steps inside.

With a clean loofah hanging dry on the wall, he squirts some hotel shower gel into it and starts to scrub over every inch of skin. He showered before coming but he still feels grimy, so it’s a nice feeling. The hot water relaxes his muscles as he lets his thoughts drift again.

If he wasn’t entirely spent, he’d also probably have his dick in his hand. There’s a routine to all of this and that’s normally part of it but his body is at peak exhaustion right now. His eyes already feel heavy and he can only hope he doesn’t pass out in the shower.

Despite all that, his head is only filled with thoughts of you, the same thing he always thinks when he ends up here..

Why haven’t you had sex with him yet?

It’s funny, isn’t it?

For most escorts he knows, the part about having sex can be the worst part of the job. Even for high-end escorts like Hitoshi himself - ultimately your body is a product more than your work is a service. You’re being paid to be whatever your client wants and it changes all the time, varies from client to client.

He has it a little easier because he’s a male escort, and most of his regulars have been mostly women in their 40’s and 50’s with a lot of money who are looking for the ‘boyfriend’ experience. It’s really a stroke of luck, all things considered. All of the women in his field have to deal with old men who have a nasty reputation of being disgusting, no pun intended. Having heard even half of the things some of his friends have said about it - he knows it to be true too.

Some people don’t mind the sex part since they don’t really think that being an escort is more than that. A true professional knows that escorting is having to play a little bit of every role - the therapist, the partner, the temptress. High-end callboys and girls are responsible for being more than just a thing to fuck and take out their stress and the better you are at your job, the easier it is to find regulars.

Other people find it degrading but most people just consider it an often annoying part of the job. You are a fantasy on legs - and you get quite handsome tips for being filthier than you ever really plan on being at the start. The sex isn’t always to your liking. It’s too rough or too much and most of your clients aren’t exactly looking to be giving partners.

It’s easier than being on the street corner (safer, too) but he’d argue the mental strain is a lot more exhausting. He feels like he’s playing a role and it’s not one he always enjoys. A lot of his regulars are nice women- most of them lonely with husbands who rarely ever come home. Some of them are downright bad people.

But beggars can’t be choosers so Shinso does what he does best and slinks into whatever role they want him to play. Some nights he’s a mean and callous secret affair - he pulls hair and clashes teeth and lets them scratch his back up.

Other nights he’s a sweet and endearing lover, he holds them and whispers sweet nothings and listens to them complain about their problems like he cares.

Almost all of the time though, it ends in sex. It’s not particularly meaningful or particularly good sex. The whole act has essentially lost its meaning for him, especially in a casual way.

Sex is just sex. Part of the job. And he can have it with his eyes closed but it doesn’t really feel like anything. Mostly, he wants it to be over so he can go home and get some sleep. The whole field of work is exhausting on his spirit.

But it pays rent, and it’s food on the table - and he’s really not in any place to question it when it ends up being so important. He avoids thinking about it too hard when he can because there’s not really any reason to do so.

He finds it.. odd though. That despite knowing all of this, he gets this horrible discomfort at the fact you don’t seem to wanna sleep with him.

Shinso’s self-worth has never been all that high, but he can say with certainty he’s good at his job. He’s handsome enough to catch eyes everywhere he goes. He’s strong, always smells good, is witty and intelligent. Good in bed. He’s good on paper.

Maybe it’s because you knew him when he wasn’t any of those things. After all, you were his longest regular. He wasn’t as put-together about this whole ordeal, so nervous around everything that so much as breathed in his direction. He’d gone to a party that night to look for clients in the ballroom of a place just down the street from this very hotel.

You took him up on his services but didn’t sleep with him. You didn’t even kiss him or touch him. Instead, you sat in a hotel room together and drank the entire night. Shinso confessed to you his life story - why he’s here and how he’d never done this before. He expected you to take him on his offer and at least ask for some oral or something. But you didn’t. You simply shook your head at him and told him that wasn’t necessary.

Then you let him talk to you some more. You told him about yourself - you’re head of a big company and child of a powerful man. You have more money than you know what to do with so you came to this event. Apparently, you weren’t expecting much but you found him handsome and that’s why you’re here now.

He still remembers blushing at your words as you took another sip. The light flush in your skin as you giggled at his still shy demeanor.

You’re older than Shinso by three years. He was 22 and you were 25. It’s been three years since then and Shinso’s grown up a lot, he thinks. Maybe you won't sleep with him because you know all this is an act or maybe you never found him attractive to begin with.

He knows it shouldn’t matter. No matter what you do, you pay Shinso almost three times his rent every single time he’s with you. You do it once a month, just on time - and you never do anything more than talk. If you’re tipsy enough or tired enough, you’ll let him lay on your chest as you vent but never anything farther than that. Not once have you crossed the boundary with him of intimacy like that.

You’re just a client and this is just a simple relationship, an exchange of words for money. He knows that better than anyone.

But he can’t help but feel.. shitty about it . He can’t help but wonder what's wrong with him if you don’t want him in a physical way. Maybe it’s because you know about all his baggage so intimately you can’t bring yourself to sleep with him out of pity.

He knows it shouldn’t matter but it does. It matters so much to him he hardly knows what to do with himself over the fact you won’t sleep with him and you’ve never even shown any interest.

Romantic relationships in this field are something of a complete anomaly. It might work if you're dating your pimp or madam, maybe if you’re both escorts even - but with the way things tended to be, it was hard. Shinso had 0 expectations of a love life for however long he was at this job.

But if there are words to describe this never ending longing better than “love”, he’d be hard-pressed to find it.

It’s really a whole pain in this ass to admit it to even himself, in his head. Romantic feelings? For a client? He’s out of his damn mind.

But you treat him so.. kindly. So differently from everyone else. You always call him ‘Shin’ with a honeyed tone, and you let him sleep when he comes over if he’s too tired. You feed him and buy him clothes and play with his hair sometimes. You talk to him like he’s a person and maybe he’s just… unused to tenderness.

But even if that is the case, it’s been years and you have an iron-tight grip on his heart.

And from how things have been going and how he continues to feel - it doesn’t seem like you have any plans of letting go anytime soon.

When Shinso exits the bathroom, he finds you lying on your back watching some reruns of Love Island playing on the TV. You’ve undressed and wiped off your makeup - now in pajamas and settled in the sheets. When you notice him, you eagerly shift to the other side and pat it for him to lay down which he does without a second thought. You’ve got a bottle of wine and two glasses waiting - unusual since you rarely drink with him.

He plops himself down besides you, turning to face you as you do the same.

“Is there a special date I’ve missed or something? What’s all this for?”

He gestures his head to the wine on the other side. You give him a soft shrug.

“Ah, sorta. Not sure if you wanna hear about it though,” ― you look at him sheepishly, yawning ― “Nothing very interesting to you,”

He wants to say everything about you is interesting to him but that’s entirely too corny. So he flicks you softly, shaking his head.

“Shut up and tell me,” but there’s no bite to it. You turn to lay on your back, laying to look at the ceiling. You lightly trace the patterns with your fingers, shutting your eyes.

“Did I.. ever mention I was engaged?”

His heart falls into his stomach, blinking rapidly before staring at you. He lays on his back now too, voice gone quiet. Unsure of how to respond, he stops. He can feel his heart clench, forcing a reply.

“Uh.. no, I don’t think so,”

You chuckle a little.

“He uh.. we weren’t serious,” ― you explain clumsily, lips pressed into a thin line like it stresses you out to think of the details ― “He really liked me and our marriage was mostly PR but I was lonely. I thought I might grow to like him,”

The flickering ember of hope in his heart is enough to push him, aching to know more.

“Did you?”

You shake your head and laugh, letting your neck crane over to look at him.

“I didn’t. Something came up and suddenly, I had different priorities,”

He just barely masks the relief in his expression, coughing lightly and trying to distract from his reaction.

“Well then uh, what’s wrong?”

You turn over to face him with not much to say. You reach over and tuck some loose hair behind his ear before retracting your hand. The small bit of affection is enough to send him reeling.

“Not wrong really. He got re-engaged today and it feels weird since I haven’t really made much progress in my life,”

He rolls his eyes at you.

“Oh yeah, opening your own company is pretty boring,”

You frown at him before sighing, scratching your scalp.

“I guess so but uh.. it’s not what I want, really”

He seems confused by your reply. You wonder if he knows just how dense he really is at times, brows furrowed in confusion.

“What do you want then?”

You giggle a little and shake your head.

“Something I can’t really have,” you say with a shrug.

He gasps aloud sarcastically.

“There’s something like that out there? Seriously?”

He’s expecting a typically witty response like the ones he normally gets from you. A rolling of eyes and a gentle shove as you tell him to pipe down or something along those lines. What he isn’t expecting is the way your eyes go lidded, smile curved up - blinking endlessly. The mellowness in your gaze as you nod.

“The funny thing is, it's so close to me sometimes. Almost like.. I could have it if I just... reached for it,”

Your sincerity strikes a chord in him, and he finds himself responding again without thinking twice..

“What’s stopping you?”

You give him a shrug.

“It’s not really my place to reach for it, I guess,” ― you explain, half-heartedly, just tired from thinking of it ― “It’s whatever, really,”

He can tell you want to stop talking about it but he can’t help but be curious. Still, he swallows whatever questions he has and lets you lay like that for a while. Observing you comes naturally to him these days, silently but probably not all that subtle.

A silence stretches between the two of you like how a cat moves in the summer sun. A comfortable exhaustion, where neither of you can find it in yourselves to move from your spot. It's unlikely you'll drink tonight. You yawn a little, heavy eyelids as you look at him.

“Hey, Shin,”

He hums, tiredly.

“Do you wanna spend tomorrow with me, too?”

He isn’t really sure if he heard you correctly until he opens his eyes to your expression. You’ve caught your lower lip between your teeth, nervously waiting for his reply. Shinso’s eyes widen as he stares at you, completely dumbfounded.

“A-are you sure? Aren’t you normally uh.. pretty busy during the weekdays?”

“Yeah but I took some time off since everythings been going well. It’s been a while since I’ve taken a break,” you explain

“And you wanna spend that time off with me…? I heard that correctly?”

You laugh at it though you know his question is genuine. You nod.

“You did, actually. It’s okay if you’re busy - I just thought it might be a good change of pace and I’ll still pay you. I need to go run some errands but we could make a day of it,” ― your give him a soft smile ― “No pressure,”

He blinks at you, dumbfounded.

“No I.. that would be cool. I’d like that,” he chokes out, heart stuttering.

You smile at him.

“Good,” ― you lean over, pressing a kiss to his temple before getting up to dim the lights ― “You look exhausted so get some sleep in,”

“R-right,”

He feels your weight as you slip into bed again, still facing him but closing your eyes.

“Night, Shinso”

“..Night,”

How did things end up like this?

With a hand on his thigh, and the spike of warmth in his chest - that’s all he can think to ask himself.

After last night, he’d woken up to find an empty bed and a paper-note crinkled up on the bedside table. It told him to get dressed and whenever you came back - the two of you would go out. You had a list of errands you needed to run and all Shinso had to do was go with you.

And he was ready to do that - he showered, got dressed, and when you arrived, accompanied you all day to do whatever tasks you needed.

Your first stop was the bank to deposit a check and take out a hefty sum of cash - half of which you handed to Shinso with a not so subtle wink.

After that - you went to your office to drop off some paperwork, with Shinso in tow and then to the Shopping Centre where you bought him an excessive amount of clothes and a brand-new watch he absolutely didn’t need. You even made him give you a little show, telling him to come out of the dressing room so he could see him in each outfit.

If that wasn’t embarrassing enough, you’d paid for both of his meals after having breakfast. You’d spent the whole day together and you’d essentially sugared him the whole time.

It wasn’t like Shinso minded . But as a pining escort, having your attention like this all day was doing terrible things to his heart. The never-ending yearning only seemed to swell up further and every gentle touch - a hand on his knee or you holding his arm, only served to make it worse.

He was torn between wanting the day to end and never wanting it too but he knew it’d be terrible for him if it continued on.

You asked him if he’d like to drink with you tonight since you couldn't last night and Shinso had said yes like the love-sick fuck he is. So you get back to the hotel room, order an expensive few bottles of wine, and pour him a few drinks. He could sleep the night and leave the next morning with cash in hand and all new items and that would be that.

Shinso knows you rarely drink and given the fact you’re choosing to spend so much time with him, he’s certain you’re going through something. And he’s fine with accompanying you through it, comfortable giving you whatever you need.

But it’s oh-so bad for his heart. It’s bad to watch you drink and see your cheeks get flushed and glow in the dim lights. It’s bad to feel your hand creep-up on his thigh as the drinks loosen you and you get comfortable.

And it’s hard for him to shut himself up when he wants you so badly anyways. When you’re so close but so far all at once and he’s losing track of his sense of dignity or pride as you drink another sip, and rub your thumb into the meat of his thigh and he’s looking at you with so much longing .

You take a sip from your glass, stem between your fingers when your voice startles him out of his trance.

“You’ve been staring at me for a while now, y’know,” ― you tell him, tapping his leg ― “If you have something you wanna say, just say it. No judgement,”

He gives you a strained look. Chewing the inside of his lip, he leans forward with his elbows on the table, cautiously moving so nothing spills. His eyes focus on the cork, fiddling with it to calm his nerves.

It goes dead silent, like everything in the entire world has stopped. Not a single car on the street or life of any kind. Just you and him, alone in this hotel room.

“Why haven’t you..” ― he trails off, wincing at his own vulgar words ― “Why won’t you.. sleep with me?

Upon hearing his question, you freeze. Worried he’s upset you, he immediately goes to correct himself. Tell you that you don’t have to answer, he’s just being stupid but instead of getting angry, you laugh.

It’s a chuckle at first but it tapers off into full-blown giggles and eventually you put the glass down just to laugh. He’s not sure if he should be offended or not by it so he sits and waits for you to catch your breath.

You lean back in your chair, hands splayed on the table as you observe all the rings on your fingers. Silver and diamonds, manicured nails and all. You tap them on the table, sighing before shrugging.

“Well, not like I have any reason not to tell you,” ― you say sighing ― “Try not to think too hard about it I guess,”

“What is it?”

“Ah well, there’s two reasons,”

He squints.

“..Okay? What are they?”

You smile at him, cracking your knuckles before resting them on the table again.

“Well, firstly - I like you” ― you say casually, all too easily for him to even process. His eyes widen the size of saucers, shock punching him in the gut ― “And I felt like sleeping with you like this.. under these circumstances would make me like the rest of your clientele so there’s that,’

What the fuck .

“Wh-whats the other reason?”

You smile.

“I’m into some pretty weird stuff,” you say with a shrug.

He stares at you.. hard and for a long time as you sit and sip wine casually. Like you didn’t just drop a complete bomb on him. Like you didn’t just casually confess your feelings for him like you were reciting the weather.

“The first reason again.. can you say it again..? Slower maybe?”

You turn to face him, cocking your head to one side.

“That I like you?”

“What the actual fuck ”

You frown.

“I told you you didn’t have to think about it too hard,”

“That is not the problem”

“Then what is..?”

“That I like you back! Obviously!” he snaps, frustrated. You stare at him wide-eyed before falling into giggles at his flustered and irritated expression. He gapes before shutting his mouth, dropping his head on the table with a groan.

“Shit, I wasn’t supposed to - fuck me ,”

You laugh again, patting his back sympathetically.

“Take your time,”

He rolls his eyes at you.

“Why am I just now learning this? Like..? Isn’t this something I should know? Since when and why?”

You laugh a little harder at his distress.

“Uh.. I don’t know? Since we first met?”

He stares at you.

“ That long? ”

You nod softly.

“Why didn’t you… why are we just finding this out?”

“Remember last night when I was talking about something being out of my reach,”

He gapes at you.

“.. You were talking about me?”

“Yeah… I might’ve just been some client to you. Your job is hard enough and I didn’t want me having feelings for you adding any pressure so I just left it alone,” ― you explain to him awkwardly ― “Too far out of my reach, you know,”

“Oh, what the fuck,”

It grows quiet for a while as Shinso sits in the strange reality that you.. like him . He tries his best to swallow the relieved lump in his throat, shaking his head of any second thoughts.

“Okay well...we don’t have time to unpack all of that right so I’m not going to,” ― he says decidedly ― “But that second part..I doubt it’s that bad. I’m an escort, I’m sure I can handle it,”

You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Hm.. you must really wanna sleep with me huh”

He flushes.

“Gimme a break here,”

You let out another soft laugh.

“Sorry sorry, it was like.. right there. It’s not that it’s weird uh.. maybe a little.. unconventional? Even for you,”

He shakes his head.

“Highly doubt it. I’ve done it all. If it’s anything like spanking, choking, biting, hair-pulling, bondage - the whole nine yards and then some,” he explains. You hum.

“Well.. I guess it technically counts as all of that,”

“See, I told you -”

“The thing is.. I don’t really want you to do all that to me,”

He stops dead in his tracks.

“...What?”

“I uh.. don’t really sub like that. Not often, anyways. I’m into what you said - spanking, choking, biting, hair-pulling, bondage - all of that and then some but like… not for me,”

He pauses. Why is his dick doing that?

“..Oh. I see,”

You wave him off a bit.

“We don’t have to do anything like that, if you don’t want to. But that’s why I was hesitating,”

“I never said..” ― he trails off, flushing ― “I’m fine with it. I trust you I just.. don’t have experience subbing, honestly,”

Your eyes widen as a familiar heat finds you. You stare at him, trying to mask your excitement.

“We really don’t have too,”

“I want to. I’ll tell you if I want to stop so,”

You give him a soft stare before chuckling. Rising to your feet, you give him your hand for him to grab. He stumbles to stand as you drag him to the bed where he finds himself seated on the edge.

You force him down, hands on his shoulders. Wordlessly, you draw your hands up his clothed chest, stopping at his face. He rests his cheek in your palm and lets you drag your thumb across his bottom lip. Everything shifts in less than a breath, in the blink of an eye and suddenly he’s looking at you more intensely than he ever has before. The reality of having sex with you, touching you - for the first time suffocates him

“Fuck,” he swears, under his breath.

“Open your mouth, Shinso,”

You leave him there for a moment, grabbing the bottle of wine and taking a swig. You slide your palms down to his neck, tilting his chin back.

He does, eyes absently tracing your face. He leans back onto his palms, mouth open. He can feel your fingers curling around the sides of his neck, pressing softly as you lean over him and spit the wine into his mouth. It’s warm from how you’ve kept it between your lips. He lets it spill, the rich liquid spilling from the corners of his lips down to his chest.

“Now swallow, yeah?”

He does, one large gulp that leaves him gasping for air with an ache between his legs he doesn’t know how to handle. His eyes flutter open and he looks at you as you pat his cheek.

“You listen well, yknow that?”

He gives you a hazy nod as you laugh, setting the bottle of wine aside again before returning to him.

“Do you know about the green light system?”

He nods. You smile.

“Can you repeat it to me?”

“Green for go, yellow for slow down, red for stop,” he recites back to you. You settle your hands around his throat, humming.

“Smart and handsome, huh?”

He laughs a little at that, dropping his head forward.

“You’re gonna kill me,”

Your grin widens.

“But you’ll have fun at least,”

He can’t disagree with that. His whole body feels like it’s lit up. Fiery heat lays claim to every inch of his body, years and years of desire welled up inside him. He feels like he’ll melt at any touch. Keening, he sighs under his breath.

“It’d be nice if we got to the fun part faster,”

You raise your eyebrows, grinning.

“Someone’s bratty,”

You think he’s gonna fold but he doesn’t. He looks up at you, arms wrapped around your waist. He tugs you towards him, face buried in your torso.

“You’ll have to fix that on your own,” ― he takes a deep inhale of your perfume. You smell like sunlight ― “I’ve waited for so long, you don’t even know,”

“Are you asking me to go easy on you?” you ask, partially genuine. He shakes his head, tilting his head up to look at you.

“The opposite, actually,”

You can’t help but laugh at him again, you run your fingers through his hair - tugging it back until he’s looking at you again. You lean down this time, getting in his face.

“You should learn to be more careful, Shinso,”

“Hitoshi,” he corrects, mouth slick with a sleazy smile. You tug at his hair harder and he lets out a moan.

“You should really learn to be more careful, Hitoshi,”

“ Fuck ,”

You release him from your grasp stepping back. He can feel his heart in his ears as you stares at you with a Cheshire cat grin.

“Strip,”

“Why should I?” he challenges.

You raise a brow at him and shrug. He watches as you step out of your own clothes, how your fingers undo your blouse buttons one by one. His mouth goes dry, licking his lips as he settles on his ass to watch you undress. He watches the loose fabric fall to the floor gracefully - eyes soaking up the sight of your chest.

A pretty lace bra barely holds them from sight, he can see every single detail. His cock twitches. You don’t stop there, looping your fingers into hooks of your pants and shrugging them off. Your body is perfect - so much better to look at than he could’ve ever imagined. Every curve or stretch mark or hair sits so pretty on your skin he can barely breathe.

He’s aching to jump across and touch you but after you undress, you deposit your clothes to the back of a chair across the bed before sitting down. With your legs spread - he gets an almost perfect view of your cunt behind thin and lace fabric.

“You wanna touch me, right?”

“Y-yeah,”

“Then get naked and sit on the bed,”

He swears he sees stars. The way your voice dips, gets heavy and powerful. He nods a little, stumbles when he stands.

“What’re you gonna do?”

You grin, leaning back in your chair. You hand one hand brushing against your chest. Slender fingers rolling the nipple between thumb and forefinger as the other hand smooths down your navel to sit between your legs. He feels his knees buckle as you sigh, going beneath the snap of your waist band. You draw a ragged breath in as you play with yourself and Shinso watches you like he’s got hearts in his eyes.

“I’m gonna watch,” ― you pant ― “Give me a good show and I’ll reward you, Hitoshi,”

Shinso is decidedly out of his element here. He’s not accustomed to this treatment, all of this attention. It’s clear you’re asking him to present yourself to him - but Shinso’s never been the one doing this. He’s normally in your shoes.

But the way your eyes drink him in, lustful and wanting, makes him want to try. So he stands and he strips, both hands grabbing either side of his shirt and slowly peeling it off of his torso. When the cool air hits the bare skin - he shivers. He rubs the back of his neck and splays his hands across his body as reaches down to his pants. He watches you while you watch him, basking in this mutual voyeurism of the act.

He feels himself get impossibly hard underneath your eyes. He takes off his pants first, tight skinny jeans that drag off his thighs and steps out of them - leaving him to only his boxers. He hesitates, embarrassed to continue, but swallows his pride. When you stop ready to question him, he starts. Slender fingers dip into his waist-band and he wiggles his hips to take them off extra slow for you.

He’s a sight to see in your eyes - his body is pale and pretty, nipples flushed against strong chest and thick thighs. He’s toned and lean, body pure sinew - with dark purple carpet to match the drapes. His cock is pretty too, not big but curved left with the tip pink. It smacks against his stomach when he takes it off. Wet with precum that drools onto his skin.

You throw your head back when you see him naked.

“Fuck, you’re pretty Hitoshi,”

He blinks at you.

“Pretty?”

You nod, still touching your clit. Still staring at him like you’re going to eat him alive. A raspy moan leaves your lips.

“Wanna see you jerk off,” ― you manage to say through a series of moans ― “Bet you look so fucking good when you do it. Sit on the bed and show me,”

This is embarrassing . Shinso is humiliated, but more than anything he’s humiliated by the way he listens . He lets himself do it. He spits into his palm unceremoniously His hand wraps around his cock, fingers around the base when he gives it a long and slow stroke. He remembers the last time he got off but he’s sure it didn’t feel like this.

He can feel it in his whole body - the tenseness in his muscles and how his chest rises but never seems to fall completely. Short, ragged breaths leaving his lips. His throat stumbles on his breaths like he can barely get them to come out. It feels so good, he can feel it everywhere. Blood pulsating under his skin - it’s hot in his veins and he strokes himself off with enthusiasm. He’s never done this before but he understands why people do.

The feeling he gets watching you watch him sends chills up his spine. The desire that lingers, connects you two like a web. You want him just as badly as he wants you and there’s proof in the way your moans mix together. Soft pants with his slow groans.

He can feel himself get close - in his throat. He throws his head back when he moans.

“G-gonna cum if I don’t stop, hngh shit ,”

You laugh at him, instead of telling him to stop - you laugh.

“You’ll stop when I tell you to stop,”― you assert, spreading your legs even wider ― “Don’t you wanna cum inside me, baby? Think that would feel better, yeah?”

“F-fuck, yeah, god,” ― he bites the inside of his cheek, slowing down as he feels it. The soft strokes make him whine ― “Want to fuck you so bad,”

“Are you close?,”

“ Please,”

“How close?”

“S-so close, gonna cum soon if I don’t - haah , shit,” ― he takes a ragged breath, slowing as best he can “Don’t stop. If I don’t - ,”

You can feel how close he is. With a breathy laugh, you sit up.

“Stop, Hitoshi,”

He gasps, immediately removing his hands. Stumbling back onto the bed, he grips the sheets trying to catch his breath. The come down is miserable, you must know. You give him a soft look of sympathy as you approach him.

“You did good,” you praise, lifting your knee and placing it beside his thigh. “Bet you’re real sensitive right now, aren’t you ‘toshi?”

“Want a reward?”

He nods. You press your pointer and index finger to his lips and watch him open his mouth. His mouth is hot and your fingers rub against his wet tongue. He closes his lips on instinct, a deep groan leaving him when he realizes. what you’re doing.

“I was gonna tie you up, y’know? With a little tie but you behaved so well for me just now. You think you’ve earned a reward?”

He looks at you with misty eyes, cock pulsing with desire. You’ve broken him down thoroughly. The empty look in his eyes and the way he sucks on your fingers. He works his tongue on each ridge on your knuckle all the back to the tips.

“What is it you wanna do, Hitoshi?” ― you ask curiously ― “Do you know?”

You pull back, watching drool drip down the sides of his mouth and down his neck. He has his hands on either side of him, fists clench. Like he can’t decide what he wants to do more.

“Wanna feel you so fucking bad,” ― he says with finality, eyes pleading ― “Please let me feel you,”

“What do you wanna feel, baby? Just wanna feel me up or you wanna feel your cock inside me..?”

He shudders.

“All of you.. god - all of you,”

“That so… think you can behave for me then? Can you be a good boy so I can give you what you want”

He nods but you shake your head, holding his face in your hands.

“Good boys have good manners,” ― you inform, staring at his eyes with adoration ― “Tell me that you’ll be a good boy for me,”

He can feel his cock twitch almost like he’ll cum untouched. The way you hold his gaze doesn’t let him look at anything but you. All he can see or smell or think is you.

“I-I’ll be... a g..good boy for you,” ― he stutters, never having said something so.. submissive. It feels awkward but you smile, grow soft so he tries again, a little firmer ― “I’ll be a good boy for you..promise”

He probably doesn’t realize himself but he gets a soft look in his eyes when you compliment him. It would make sense for him to have a praise kink but you almost feel guilty exploiting it when he doesn’t even know.

“You’re such a good boy for me aren’t you, Hitoshi? Got such a handsome face,” you’re still looking straight at him. He squirms, body doing something unfamiliar.

“W-wait,” ― he squirms, backing up a little ― “Shit.. wait it’s..

Instead of pushing him, you pull back.

“Get up on the bed baby,”

And he does, scooting back towards the headboard with his back leaning into pillows. You crawl towards him, straddling him. Both of your knees are on either side of his thigh and your bodies are pressed so closely together.

Your hands rest at the base of his throat, before sliding around to his face. He can feel your core, wet and warm - hovering just above his naked torso. You lean forward, warm breath on his lips. You smell so good to him, breath sweet with alcohol. Everything about is so attractive and his heart is racing all over again.

It’s the first time he’s ever kissed you. He lets you take the lead on it. The way your bodies meld into each other and the gentle touch of your hands. Nothing can distract him from the kiss. Your lips are so soft. They taste sour and sweet and you kiss him feverish. Each time you pull back to kiss him again, you do it a little deeper and a little longer until it aches to stop.

You kiss him with tongue, and you lead. He follows. You let it drag across his lower lip, let your teeth tug and bite wherever you please. It sets off something feverish inside of him. Shinso moans as your clothed cunt drags onto his cock slowly, the light sensation making him shiver.

Heat splinters off inside of him, something slick dragging along his cock has him choking on his breath.

You let yourself pull away from his lips, moving to pepper kiss down his jaw all the way to pale neck. He can feel the sharpness of your teeth dig into the skin, mouth lapping over the marks before sucking them into bruises. A deep purple to match the rest of him - littered from his throat all the way down to his chest as you scoot down to get a taste of the rest of him.

“You’re so cute, Hitoshi” ― you greet, hands on his waist ― “Such a pretty boy,”

He whimpers when he hears your voice.

“Is there anything you want?”

“C-can I… I wanna uhm.. eat you out, maybe? If that’s alright”

You sit back up to look at him. He looks like it took everything out of him just to ask. You give him a quick kiss on the mouth before nodding.

“How do you want me?”

“Sitting on my face, please?”

“You even know to say please huh,” ― you chuckle, moving over so he can lay back. He follows with your instruction ― “You must really want it,”

“Y-Yeah, I do,”

“Then I’ll give it to you,”

Shinso lays flat on his back and watches you from the corner of his eyes as you slide off your panties. The only word his hazy mind can think of to describe you is pretty. Your pussy is pretty too - it’s slick and rests between your thighs, clenching around nothing. Shinso watches with great interest as you make your way over to him - with one knee on one side of his head. You spread yourself right over his face and he moans.

The heat of your cunt is a welcome invitation. He really can’t think of any way to describe it other than it smells like you, hot and heavy and thick in his lungs. He reaches his hands up and wraps around your thighs, dragging you closer to him. You're facing the wall - hand on the headboard to steady yourself. The other one threading through his locks.

“Go on baby,” ― you tease, settling some of your weight until your pussy is on his tongue ― “Enjoy yourself,”

He has a catty remark somewhere in him but right now he’s too desperate to care. Wet tongue drags between your folds, burying himself in your cunt as deep as he can. His nose bumps against your clit, resting against your mound as he laps at your clit with great effort. A full body shiver runs through you and above he hears the shuffle of fabric, the unclasping of your bra as it falls to the floor.

You lean back this time, hands splayed behind you. Shinso prepares himself for what's coming by digging his fingers into your thighs a little further. He moans into, mouth sucking and slurping at your pussy as you find your pace to grind against his mouth. All the blood is rushing to his cock as he feels you. The swollen bundle of nerves pulsates on his tongue as your hips rock into an easy back and forth. You grip at his hair, throwing your head back.

“Feels so fucking good, baby,” ― you moan, voice hoarse and heavy ― “Such a good boy letting me fuck your face like this, yeah?”

He groans against your cunt at the sound. It eggs him on, stretching his tongue out so you can get the most pleasure. His cock twitches haphazardly. He can feel every clench, every ridge in his mouth. You taste so fucking nice - arousal spilling down his cheeks and chin. He can’t breathe, can’t do anything but feel you.

You can feel him too. The way the pleasure builds in a steady crescendo as you continue rocking yourself on his face. Your thighs clench, muscles trembling - a bead of sweat dripping down your forehead and cheek.

“Haah, shit - gonna make me cum, gonna cum all over your pretty face baby,”

He whines into you like he wants it. When you reach your peak you almost scream, mouth fallen open as your pussy spasms. All you can see is white - pulsing white heat and sinful pleasure that leaves your breathing ragged and body rigid. It feels like falling into water, floating in it - completely weightless

You fall forward as it hits you in waves. Shinso can feel the rush of your orgasm, cum coating his tongue. He swallows it down with enthusiasm as you continue to ride out your high.

When you’ve ridden out your high, you dismount yourself from him - sitting on his chest. His face is flushed, dusted a bright pink across his nose. Saliva and cum make his skin shine in the lowlights. You scoot back then lean forward to meet his mouth in a lazy kiss. He moans, soft and easy.

“You did such a good job making me cum, Hitoshi,” ― you’re quick to praise, pressing a kiss to his nose ― “Sit up for me,”

And he does, propped up on his elbows. With a heavy mind, he sits back up like how he’d been before and watches as you crawl into his lap. His cock fucking hurts, the lack of attention making it hard for him to think straight. You place a hand on his chest and lift your ass up.

“I don’t know how long I can last,” he admits. You laugh a little.

“Don’t worry about it and enjoy yourself. Do whatever feels right,”

Shinso nods as he watches you reach between the two of you, gripping his cock and guiding it to your entrance. He’s mesmerized by it, lidded gaze staring at with such focus. As soon as the tip stretches you out, he’s a goner. It’s soft and wet and hot. An all encompassing and slick heat, like silk around his cock. His whole body falls forward in a shudder, cock pulsing. He wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your bare tits as you slide yourself down.

“O-ooh, fuck - please, please ”

“Feel good?,”

He’s too euphoric to get out a reply. Such great relief has him near tears, his body aching as he buries himself deep in your cunt. Even the slightest movement has him moaning, loud and shameless as the tip drags against your sensitive walls. The summery heat of your cunt has his voice trembling - his body shaking.

Taking the utmost mercy on him, you lift your hips until his cock almost slides out before slamming yourself back down. He cries out into your chest, as you ride him like your life depends on it. The constant motion - the slip of your pussy has him rutting his hips to fuck back into your rhythm.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,”

You feel encouraged to egg him on with some praise, an unexpected second wave of pleasure building in your abdomen. You feel his mouth catch on one of your tits as you ride him - laughing.

“Such a good boy for me, Hitoshi. Fuck me so well, making me feel so good. You can cum inside me for being so good, f-fill me up so nice, yeah?”

He grunts.

“Fuck, yeah ,”

He gives up on trying to do anything but chase his orgasm. With a heavy grunt, he fucks himself into with little effort on his part. You let him because he sounds so desperate . Heady moans and whimpers that taper off into swears. You can feel how bad he wants it. His cock stretches you nicely but it’s how deep you can feel it that leaves you exceptionally hazy. You let him fuck into you with a smile.

Your own orgasm hits you a second time and you gasp, then laugh a little at just how good he’s making you feel. You can’t help but think you should’ve done this forever ago as a lazy orgasm has you shiver, pussy gripping Shinso like you never want him to leave.

You take your face in his hand and watch him drool all over your palms. He really is beautiful. His lower lip tucked between teeth, voice brokenly moaning as he approaches his own orgasm.

“Gonna cum for me, handsome? Makin’ such a pretty face. Wanna feel your cum deep inside, okay? Can you do that?”

“Y-yeah, hnggh yeah - please, please”

“Cum for me, Hitoshi. Be a good boy and cum for me,”

With one last thrust, Shinso throws his head back and cums so hard he sees stars in his vision. He can hear your voice distantly as his body spasms and releases all that he’s been holding in for so long. A sob hiccups in his chest as he rides his high out, pouring thick and hot loads of cum inside of you with fervor. He’s beautiful for you, really.

“Good boy, Hitoshi,” you coo, soft as he cries into your chest “Such a good boy f’r me,”

After a particularly long session of holding each other post orgasm, you’ve managed to drag Shinso into the bathroom. He’s exhausted and you’re not that surprised. Even resting in the warm, floral scented water - he’s not so much as spoken a word. He’s got his arms wrapped around you, face buried in your shoulders.

The ambience is nice. He finally got to use the couples bath items - candles lit with rose petals dancing in the hotel bathroom. It’s romantic, he has to admit. It makes Shinso think long and hard.

His voice is raspy after he speaks for the first time. It catches you by surprise but it’s soft and gentle.

“So.. you like me,” ― he starts, drawing his arms even tighter around your middle ― “...And I uh.. I like you back so. What does that…?,”

You chuckle at him, leaning your head back to look at him before smiling.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it too,” ― you say first, before flushing. It’s the first time in the evening you find yourself flustered ― “But I’d like to take care of you.. financially and otherwise,”

He blinks a little, blushing.

“W-would that.. like would that make me your.. uhm? Boyfriend or whatever,”

You register what he says before breaking out into another set of full-blown giggles. No matter how smart of how witty Shinso may be, he still manages to make your heart flutter with how cute he is. You nod.

“Yes, that would make you my boyfriend. And sugar baby, technically,” ― you explain to him, wrapping your hands around his. ― “We can work out the details in the morning,”

He’s quiet for a while before nuzzling into you closer.

“Cool,”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling.

“...Cool?”

He nods and smiles too. That's all he could ever ask to be.

“Cool,”

#prettyboy.thirsts #shinsou x reader #bnha x reader #shinsou x y/n #shinso x reader #shinsou x you #shinso x you #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #formal #writing tag #bnha smut #shinso smut

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bnhabadass · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Bakugou x reader Genre: Smut, 18+, Mafia AU Trope: Woke up married Dialogue Prompt: “Aren’t we supposed to be working?” Warnings: overdosing on cold medicine, mixing cold medicine with alcohol, dub-con, mentions of sex while unconscious, vomiting Word Count: 4,480

This is my contribution to this month’s bnharem collab. I was so happy when I spun the roulette wheel and it landed on my favorite au, the mafia au. I hope you all enjoy and make sure to check out everyone else’s contributions here. Also a big thanks to @doinmybesthere for being my beta reader and putting so much work into creating the master list for this collab.

“A fever? Are you fucking kidding me?”

You winced at the voice coming out of your phone. You were curled up in bed, a heavy futon draped over your achey, chilled body. “I’m really sorry,” you croaked into the receiver. “I can’t get out of bed; there’s no way I’ll be able to come into work today.”

“You know how important tonight’s meeting is.”

You could feel the fire in the eyes of your underboss as he spat at you about how important tonight’s festivities were. You couldn’t care less. You hated the guy, but more importantly you hated your father for getting you in this mess.

A debt needed to be paid and your family couldn’t afford to take out a second mortgage on the house. So your father, as smart as he thought he was, went to the nicest restaurant on the far side of town where the boss of one of the most dangerous mobs in the city stationed his office.

A debt for a debt. That’s what he told you as he came home smiling with a big check in his wallet. No one in your family knew where he got the money, but he seemed confident enough that he’d be able to pay it back.

A month went by and one day, three scary men knocked on your apartment door. They said they were there to “collect”.

You were terrified. You thought they were there to rob you, to take the money you had been saving in a rainy-day fund. But no, they came to collect you. Now, it’s been four months and you’re still stuck doing odd jobs for them--grocery and coffee runs as well as spending reports and other money related things you are less than qualified to do.

You hate your job. You hate having to put up with the unorthodox hours and the unsavory jobs and the complaints about your work ethic and the having to do it over again because you didn’t do it right the first time. You want out. If you weren’t positive that if you left they would be able to hunt you down, you would have fled the country by now.

But your father’s debt still hasn’t been paid.

“Look,” you pleaded. “I can come in tomorrow and work double my usual time. Please, Kirishima-san, I just need the day to rest.”

“Not a chance. You’re coming in today and that’s final. If you don’t, well, then maybe we need to take an extra payment from your parents.”

Before you could even process what he just said, he hung up the phone.

Another payment from your parents. You couldn’t possibly let them take any more from your family. With a new threat looming over your head, you mustered up enough strength to push off of your futon and get dressed for the clients’ dinner.

By the time it was 7:00 in the evening, you had taken a large swig of cold medicine and were ready to spend the night serving these criminals.

Outside of the restaurant, two bodyguards were stationed at the front door and one at the back entrance. All three of them were dressed in black from head to toe. You, on the other hand, were tasked with serving your boss’s clients, so your outfit differed from theirs.

You were dressed in attire suited for waiting tables. Black slacks stretch across your legs and your pristine shirt was smoothed against your body. A tight black vest clung to your chest and pressed against your boobs, squishing them together. If it weren’t for the fever, chills, and headache, you would look like you belonged with this crowd of criminals.

You flashed your ID to the guard at the back door and he nodded you in. Your eyes had to adjust to the fluorescent kitchen lighting, but once they did you saw how busy everyone was. It truly was one of the most important nights for your boss, so you understood why you were needed. Still, this night would truly take the most out of you.

“Oi, (L/n),” one of your boss’s associates called for you. “Take these to table four. I’ve been covering your ass for the last twenty minutes.”

“Of course, Kaminari-san.” You bowed your head and skirted over to the table where two well-dressed men spoke with one another in a hushed tone. You placed their meals in front of them and bowed your head.

“Wait,” one of them called as you began to walk away. “I asked for a Jasmine tea. This is Sencha.”

“Yeah,” the other one piped up. “And I asked for a Sencha tea and this is Jasmine.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to yell into the abyss and slap those men across the face. But of course all you did was bow in apology and take the cups back. Kirishima’s words to you over the phone rang loud and clear in your mind.

“Anything they need, you get it for them. These are important people the boss works with and we can’t have idiots like you messing this up for us.”

The men smirked at you and as you turned around to grab their “correct orders,” the man who ordered the Jasmine tea leaned over to leave a hard, painful smack across your ass.

You froze but didn’t say anything and walked away.

It was still early in the night but you had run yourself thin. You needed to sit down or to at least take a sip of water, but there was no room for breaks as you bounced from table to table getting the people what they wanted. You had even left the venue a couple times to retrieve items like the proper creamer one client required in their coffee.

Your throat was so sore and dry and it was aching for a break. Your entire body was aching for a break. But as you saw someone sitting at one of the tables raise her hand to wave you over, you had to put all of your aches aside to tend to her needs.

“Good evening, ma’am.” You bowed your head. “How may I assist you?”

A small smile was on her dark red painted lips. She seemed to be searching for something as she eyed you up and down. “Do you happen to know when Bakugou-san will be joining us?”

Bakugou-san… Were you supposed to know who that is? You had never heard the name before, although you knew your boss had many ties throughout the district. It could be one of them.

“I’m not sure,” you answered honestly. “I could ask my supervisors if they happen to know.”

She waited a moment. She seemed to be searching for something in your expression. “That’s all right. You may go back to work now.”

You bowed and thanked her.

Bakugou-san.

The name did sound familiar, but you’re not sure where you could have heard it. It wasn’t until you were deep in thought, trying to recall where you had heard the name, that you could feel something pushing up against your throat. Oh god. Your stomach was churning.

You ran to the bathroom, pushing someone out of the way to get there. You’d probably hear an earful from Kirishima for pushing a guest, but you needed to find a toilet before--

Oh no.

You barely made it into the stall before emptying the contents of your stomach onto the white tiles of the bathroom floor. Your legs collapsed from under you and you kneeled in your vomit as you coughed up your stomach lining into the porcelain bowl.

Tears fell from your eyes as you struggled to breathe while hacking everything you had into the toilet. The black eyeliner you threw on before leaving the house had smudged into raccoon eyes around your lashes.

You rested your cheek against the toilet, ignoring all of the germs that were most likely crawling up your skin and into your pores. The toilet seat felt cool against your burning cheek and watering eyes. You thought you could die happily here, kneeling on the bathroom tiles in a pile of your slowly cooling vomit.

“Aren’t we supposed to be working here?”

Your eyes shot open, and in trying to stand up you slipped. Your ass landed in the smeared vomit. You winced and let out a drawn out, “fuuuck.”

It took you a moment before opening your eyes again and looking up at the man in front of you. And boy did your eyes widen. He was clearly a guest at the clients’ dinner. His blonde hair was slicked back and the bulge of his muscles under his crisp black button down didn’t go unnoticed by you. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his forearms and as he crossed his arms over his chest, his sleeves began to tighten.

“Who the hell are you and why are you puking on the floor?”

It took you a second to find your voice. “I’m, um...” you trailed off. “(L/n), sir.” You cleared your throat. “I am a worker for the person hosting this dinner.” You tried to stand up and bow, but he put a hand up to stop you.

“You work for them.” It was a statement not a question, but you nodded anyway. “Why? What do you owe?”

You’re not sure why he was asking, but his intimidating glare compelled you to answer his every question. “My dad owes them money,” you admitted. “And he wasn’t able to pay them back.”

“Who do you mean by them?”

You weren’t sure how to answer. You didn’t even know what these people did. For all you knew they were drug mules or assassins. You never wanted to know what they did when you were roped in. After all, the less you knew meant you could have more of a normal life. “The boss,” you finally answered. Who the boss was, you weren’t sure. You answered to Kirishima but he didn’t have much power aside from ordering around you and every other person unfortunate enough to be roped into working for them.

The man in front of you scoffed. “Get up.”

You scrambled to your feet, ignoring the wave of nausea that hit you. The man led you out of the bathroom, and as you walked behind him, people who passed the two of you stopped and stared. Oh no, it had to be from the vomit stains on your leg and down your shirt. You probably stank to high hell and your eyes wouldn’t stop watering from your fever.

The man stopped and you had to keep from bumping into him. “There’s an extra work shirt in the closet,” he said. “There should also be some slacks in there. Leave your dirty clothes in a pile and I’ll have someone collect them.”

His voice was demanding and it took you a moment to register what he said. It wasn’t until he snapped in your face that you moved.

“We don’t have all day, princess.”

You flinched and nodded before scurrying into the closet and flicking the light on. Inside the closet was the restaurant’s sad excuse for a boiler room. The low humming from the machinery brought you back into the present as you searched for the change of clothes you were promised.

There was a crisp white shirt folded on one of the shelves as well as a few different slacks in varying sizes. The shirt was a size too small, so you had to leave the first couple buttons popped open. Before leaving the closet, you tried to think about who the man was and why he was helping you. Was it possible that he wanted something in return?

When you emerged from the closet, he looked you up and down. You were too tired, however, to notice his lingering glare on your chest and the way the button down squeezed your breasts closer together.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, looking down at your shoes. You’re not sure why you were too scared to look into his vermillion eyes, but the way he called you princess earlier as he snapped at you had definitely made you tremble in your core, and you swore that if you looked up to meet his eyes, your fever would only go higher and higher.

“Why the hell’d you come here if you were sick anyway? Are you trying to poison everyone in the damn building?” His words were like little bullets that shot at every one of your doubts of coming in tonight.

You thought back to why you had come in the first place. You were huddled up in your futon that morning when Kirishima called. You begged to stay home, right? But you couldn’t. You squinted hard as you tried to remember why you weren’t allowed to rest. “I was threatened,” you thought out loud. It wasn’t directed towards the man but he nodded in any case.

“(L/n) was it, right?”

You finally managed to look up at him with bleary eyes. “Yeah, um...” You couldn’t seem to remember what his name was. Wait, he hadn’t told you. He had just led you around and given you new clothes, but he never properly introduced himself.

“Bakugou Katsuki,” he said as if he could read your mind. His lips turned up into a smirk. “But call me Katsuki.”

“Katsuki,” you mumbled. “Bakugou Katsuki.” You had heard that name before, but where. “Bakugou,” you mumbled again as if you were trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together. “Bakugou-san.”

He quirked an eyebrow up at you.

“Oh!” It hit you like a ton of bricks and as soon as you shot up, you had to recoil because of the ache in the back of your neck. “There’s a woman looking for you, Bakugou-san, er, Katuki,” you bowed.

He just chuckled. “There’s a lot of people looking for me tonight. Who was it?”

That’s a good question. You squinted as if you were looking deep into your memories to remember who it was who asked for him. “She was a woman,” you remembered. “With long dark hair and dark red lips.”

Katsuki nodded. “I see the Yaoyorozus are here.”

The Yaoyorozus. You weren’t sure what that could mean but you didn’t feel like questioning it, so you nodded instead.

Katsuki was looking down at you. His arms were crossed over his chest but a smirk that had been playing across his face all night wouldn’t seem to go away. “Feeling better?”

You didn’t feel better. Although you felt cleaner in the new clothes, there was still a throbbing in your head that wasn’t going away and the overhead lights made your eyes water. But the way that Katsuki looked at you like he was expecting you to say yes just drew you in.

He could tell that the way you nodded a yes in response to his question was a lie, and his face fell before pushing a hand up to your forehead, checking your temperature. “Have you taken anything today?”

You had to think back to earlier that day when you brought the bottle of cold medicine up to your lips, not even reading the recommended dose before downing what you could and leaving your home. “Yeah, um, I took some medicine.”

The grin that had been spread across Katsuki’s face returned. “Well I guess we’ll have to get you some more.”

He grabbed your wrist and led you through the halls and over to the bar. You didn’t pay attention to where you were going. The world seemed to be going too fast for you to keep up. What you were able to notice was that everyone’s eyes were on you as you gently swayed back and forth, trying to settle yourself down. As you were in your own head, you couldn’t start to picture what everyone else saw when they looked at you. You with your raccoon eyes due to streaky makeup that you couldn’t stop rubbing.

“Here.” Katsuki shoved a glass in your face. “Not necessarily traditional medicine but it’ll get the job done.”

You looked up at the whiskey glass in his hand. The ‘medicine’ was a deep brown color which swirled around as he handed it to you. Your fingers brushed against his thick ones as you took the glass. You lifted it up to your nose and took a deep breath in, gagging at the smell. “Um, I don’t think I should.” You had been warned about mixing alcohol with drugs and the dangers that came with it, but no one had ever told you not to mix drinks with cold medicine. Still, that couldn’t be right, right?

“Come on, it’s good for you,” he egged you on. “Besides, it’ll get that nasty taste out of your mouth.”

You had never tried whiskey before. You were used to lighter drinks, something bubbly with a shot of vodka or two in it. But this was almost too much. You lifted the glass up to your lips and tilted it back. Your lips stung as they made contact with the drink, but you didn’t want to seem weak to Katsuki. He’d taken care of you so far and seemed pleasant enough, albeit intimidating.

As you tipped it back further and took more of the drink into your mouth, Katsuki pushed his hand against the bottom of the glass so you couldn’t tear it away, making sure you would drink every last drop. It stung going down and the cubes pressing against your lip were colder than you expected. You gagged as a couple loose tears rolled down your face from the drink’s burning sensation. You bet you looked even more of a mess now.

“Good girl,” Katsuki said with a low demeanor. With his thumb, he wiped away a drop of whiskey that rolled down your chin.

“And this’ll make me feel better?” You didn’t think you were supposed to drink when you were sick, but you were far too tired to even think about what was wrong and what was right. If he said that it’d make you feel better, then that had to be a good thing. You’re sure of it.

“Sure will.” He placed a firm, calloused hand on your head and stroked down your hair. You nuzzled into his warmth.

It was such a nice sensation that it almost made you forget that you were supposed to be working. That there were people waiting on you to bring them their food and fetch their creamer, people who were ready to slap your ass and laugh as soon as you turned away.

“I have a,” you started, not really sure where that sentence was going. “I have to go back to work.”

As you began walking away, Katsuki stopped you, pulling you back over so your face was practically pressed up against his chest. “No you don’t. You’re sick, remember?”

Right, as if you hadn’t forgotten. But he was right. You were sick and your medicine hadn’t kicked in yet. You couldn’t risk spreading your germs and getting anyone else sick.

You watched the dinner guests from afar. You leaned in to hear conversations about hitmen and other rivaling mobs around town. Some were about money laundering and clients that needed to be taken out, whatever that meant.

At one point, someone asked to pull Katsuki aside and talk alone, but instead he just pulled you closer.

“The hell do you want, Yoarashi?”

Yoarashi was a big guy, bigger than Katsuki, but it was clear even to you that he was intimidated by the blonde in front of him.

“You owe me for what I let you borrow last month.”

“I don’t owe you shit.”

To you, they sounded like they were underwater and you weren’t sure what they were discussing, but you were curious to learn more.

“Come on, Bakugou. Work with me here.”

“I’m a busy man, Yoarashi. Now get out of my face before I have my men take care of you.”

Something about the raw power and the threatening tone behind Katsuki’s voice made you excited. You wanted to melt into his words, but you weren’t sure why.

“Busy man?” Yoarashi scoffed. “Come on, Bakugou. You’ve barely been seen all night. Where have you been, fucking this little lackey of yours?”

He didn’t mean you, did he? Before you could even comprehend what he just insinuated, Katsuki turned you around and pressed your face up against his chest. You could feel yourself growing even hotter as you were pushed into one of his pectorals. One of his hands cupped the back of your head. Was he protecting you?

“Listen here,” you heard him say. “Don’t contact us ever again unless you want to end up like your first boss did. I can make your life a living hell and I will, got that?”

“Don’t think I don’t have other contacts, all right? You aren’t the only one in this town with resources, Bakugou.”

You felt something jab into the other side of Katsuki’s chest. Did Yoarashi hit him? A few seconds went by before you heard the snapping of fingers and two men came over to drag Yoarashi away.

Katsuki released the hold he had on you, and you watched as the tall man struggled out of his hold. “You aren’t gonna tell anyone what you saw here tonight, right princess?”

You shook your head. You weren’t sure what exactly you felt when you saw that man being dragged away. You were scared, of course; scared for your own life and of the raw power that Katsuki seemed to hold. But on top of fear there was something else. There was a tingle between your thighs that wouldn’t seem to go away, and there was also a sense of excitement. Out of all the people here, this man was paying attention to you. You were far from Mafia material, but he clearly saw something in you and you wanted more of his gaze lingering on you.

Your mind felt hazy with Katsuki and you wanted even more. You didn’t know what to do when you felt him smooth his hand down your back. You didn’t know what to do when his usual smirk turned into something much more dangerous. And you didn’t know what to do when he leaned over and pressed his lips against your own.

His lips felt heavenly as they explored you. They were soft and welcoming despite his cold and dangerous exterior. His tongue probed its way into your mouth. He tasted like whiskey and something else which you assumed was just him. He bit your lip and it felt like he smiled when you let out a moan.

When he released, you felt as if the whole world was spinning with Katsuki. You wobbled around a bit and he chuckled. You tried asking if you could sit down, but the words refused to come out. The last thing you remember is seeing the world go black, the sound of the clients’ dinner fading out of earshot, and two strong arms carrying you away from reality.

You were in pain by the time you woke up. Your body, especially your head, ached tremendously and you wished the sun would stop shining so bright through your window. But wait, the window in your bedroom at your apartment faced another building. The sun never shined too bright in the morning when you were at home.

Slowly, you peaked your head out from under the covers and looked around. You weren’t in your bedroom, but you were in a bedroom. The bed you had been asleep in was enormous, but aside from that there was not much else furniture in the room or even any pictures to signify who the room could belong to.

It wasn’t until you sat up that you realized just how exposed you were under the covers. You couldn’t find your clothing anywhere. What were you even wearing last night? Where were you last night?

You remembered being sick and being called into work by Kirishima. You were stressed. You were nauseous. There was a beautiful woman who asked for someone in particular but you were too sick to remember what their name was, right?

And then you raced to the bathroom and met--

A groan from beside you shook you out of your thoughts, and as soon as you saw the person lying in bed next to you, all of your memories came flooding back.

“Morning, baby girl,” Katsuki said.

You didn’t know what to say. Your mouth hung open and you felt lightheaded.

Katsuki was shirtless under the covers and you were too scared to ask if he had anything on covering his lower half. “You put on quite the show last night.”

Last night. Where you met him. What did you do last night? “I...” You didn’t know what to say, and that made Katsuki let out a booming laugh.

“Come on, you remember at least a little of it don’t you?”

You shook your head. Then you shook your head again. You couldn’t stop shaking your head.

Katsuki put a hand on your shoulder and you stopped. He had a shit eating grin spread across his face that you wanted to both punch and kiss at the same time. “First throwing up at my party and then getting blackout drunk in front of all my guests.”

“What?” You could barely remember anything. What did he mean ‘his party’? The clients’ dinner was run by…

Your eyes widened as you realized just who you had found yourself naked in bed with. Who had found you puking on the bathroom floor. Who that stunningly gorgeous woman was asking for earlier.

You clamped a hand over your mouth and Katsuki let out another chuckle. “You really were the life of the party.” He grabbed your wrist and dragged you over to his side of the bed, and you let him. He dragged his hand up and down your exposed body and roughly cupped your sex. “I had a blast toying around with you last night, but now I want you to be able to remember what it feels like when I bury my cock inside of you, sweetheart.”

You hated the way he was grabbing you and the way he forced your legs to open up for him, but what you hated more than any of that was the way his words made your inner thighs ache and how they instinctively parted just for him.

You turned away as he leaned down to smother your chest with rough kisses, and as you looked over to your left hand, you couldn’t help but notice a diamond ring that wasn’t there the night before.

#katsuki bakugou #bakugo #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #mob boss bakugou!!!#mafia au #mha mafia au #bnha bakugo #bnharem #bnharem collab #tw: dubcon #tw: alcohol #tw: overdose

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mossy-rainfrog · 3 years

Photo

[Image ID: A digital drawing of Martin and Jon in season 1 of the Magnus Archives. Martin is seen out in the archives hallway, through the doorway to Jon’s office. Martin a fat Black man with short coily hair, round glasses, and snake bite lip piercings. He wears a blue sweater over a white collared shirt, and carries a brown satchel with him. Martin is looking over his shoulder with interest as he walks into work, and in a smaller panel to the side, we see Jon watching him with wide eyes. Jon is a thin Persian person with long greying hair tied back in a low bun, and rectangular glasses. He wears a red button down underneath a brown jacket, and is seated at the desk in his office. He stares out at Martin, looking flustered. There are small lines by Martin’s mouth indicating the piercings, and there are exclamation marks by Jon’s head indicating his reaction. End ID.]

I found an old fic in my notes about Martin dressing alt/punk outside of work and accidentally leaving on a small indicator of his usual fashion when he comes into the archives and I just. had to bring it back. Also, because I am still fond of it, please enjoy the aforementioned fic🥰:

Jon is having a difficult morning, to say the least. He had believed that coming into work an entire hour early would provide him with ample time to get a head start on today’s organizing, but that has decidedly not been case. He’s already had to take the statements of two utterly ridiculous liars who could barely keep the grins off of their faces as they recounted their ludicrous tale, and then listen to Elias subsequently dress down his so-called ‘attitude towards patrons’ for nearly half an hour, and suffice it to say, he would really like to get started on something that is actually worth his time.

He dislikes settling down with the more... difficult statements before all of his colleagues arrive, an attempt to keep them from interrupting his recordings to greet him, so once he’s finished his other menial tasks, he finds himself simply sitting and waiting for the ensemble of his assistants to arrive.

Tim and Sasha are the first - entering together as usual after having stopped for coffee on the way in - but Martin is slow to follow, taking nearly another fifteen minutes to arrive. It’s nearly ten past seven at that point, and once Jon hears Martin’s steps coming towards his office, he has half a mind to give the man yet another lecture on punctuality and work ethic. He gets as far enough as bracing his hands on the table to stand up, and then Martin appears in the doorway to his office, and he realizes something strikingly different about his appearance.

That is to say, Jon’s whole world narrows down very suddenly to the little black studs decorating the space underneath his bottom lip.

He’s staring, he knows he is, but Martin is busy looking down the hall for the moment, so Jon doesn’t force himself to tear his eyes away just yet. How long has he had his lip pierced, Jon wonders? Has it been there the whole time he’s known him? Has he only recently gotten it done? How? Why?

It’s hard to imagine Martin - soft, unassuming Martin who is far too large for the amount of space he crams himself into, always slouching, always pulling himself inwards as if he can make himself disappear - dressing in any way other than soft sweaters and slacks, but if Jon’s honest, he’s never actually seen the man outside of work. He has no idea how Martin chooses to dress himself when out from under the Institute’s rigid dress code, and this tiny window he’s been provided with is making him maddeningly curious.

He’s not... he doesn’t have feelings for Martin, aside from a general annoyance, occasionally marked with curiosity. He’s a professional, for God’s sake, not to mention that Martin’s very existence as a given is like a grain of sand in his eye, rubbing and irritating. Now he cuts clean through without even noticing. Jon itches to know more.

“Jon?” Martin’s voice tears him from his thoughts. “Is something wrong?”

Oh, shit. Jon can feel his gaze heat up as if he’s done something horribly wrong - how embarrassing that he can’t even keep a blush off of his face - but he still forces himself to open his mouth and stutter out an excuse. He means to remark on one of Martin’s missing reports, or the fact that he’s coming in nine minutes late, but what ends up leaving his mouth is; “Your lip is pierced.”

Just a sentence, not a question. He thinks he’s positively beet red. Martin freezes, the tips of his ears darkening visibly against his brown skin as his hand shoots to his mouth and his eyes widen.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I must have forgotten to take them out,” the poor man looks like he’s about to panic as he whips his gaze around as if to see if anyone else has noticed. “Don’t tell Elias, please, I’ve seen how he gets after Tim for the dress code, and there is no way, I mean no way—”

“Oh, n-no, it’s- I- it’s fine, really,” Jon raises his hands in defense as Martin rambles, for some reason inclined to reassure the man. “I won’t- I’m not- I’m not going to tell him.”

Martin hesitates, wringing his hands, apologies visible on every pore of his face. “I- Thank you. I’ll- I’ll go take it off. Christ, that’s embarrassing.”

“Only if you want,” Jon shrugs, which is definitely not the correct thing for him to say as a boss, and it definitely comes out a little gentler than he intends it to, and Jon is three seconds from screaming if he can’t figure out how to make himself react normally to this. It’s a non-traditional piercing in an academic institute of research; it’s against the rules, however dated they may be, and further than that, there is no reason for it to completely undo his composure the way that it has. He tries to get a hold of himself. “I-I mean, that’s likely for the best.”

Martin is giving him a funny look - probably a response to seeing the whole spectrum of human emotions flash across Jon’s face in a millisecond - but he still nods and says: “Sorry again. Thank you,” and then disappears down the corridor.

Jon immediately buries his face in his hands and sighs.

What is wrong with him? For God’s sake, he’s just seen Martin with a lip piercing, it’s not like he’s witnessed the man undressed. Besides, he works in an archive where he has to read statements about the intricacies of monsters that rip off people’s skin and suchlike every day, he should know how to keep his composure better than this. He should just move on with his day and focus without a problem, just like he does every morning.

Except, his mind keeps wandering back to it; the way the little studs had followed the shape of his mouth, the way they had quirked up when he flashed one of his nervous smiles, the way Jon is still desperately curious about what brought him to get them done, and also what it might feel like to brush a thumb, or perhaps even his lips over them.

Jon sits up so fast his head actually smacks against an open filing cabinet behind him. His mind is too busy reeling to notice the ache that fills his head, and he stares straight ahead with wide eyes and utterly scorching cheeks. Absolutely not. He absolutely did not just think about kissing Martin Blackwood. that was- that would be...

He blinks hard, clears his throat. It doesn’t matter what that was. He’s decidedly not interested in Martin Blackwood romantically, or in any other capacity given his truly ridiculous academic competence and his obnoxious habit of interrupting seemingly every stable thing Jon has in his life. He crushes the feeling down hard, locks it up in a box, stuffs it down under his lowest two ribs, and resolves himself never to open it again.

He is not going to keep thinking about this all day. He has work to do, and if something as simple as a pair of metal studs can distract him this badly, then he needs to make absolutely certain it doesn’t happen again.

He tells himself he’s not disappointed when he sees Martin without the piercings later that day.

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #tma s1 #tma season one #martin with piercings my beloved #tma fic #tma fan art #mossy art #man i wrote this concept back in december but ohg i'm still so fond of it #alt/punk martin my angel my sweetheart my light and love #if you read this fic MWAH i love you

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arinbelle · 3 years

Text

Suits (Nessian AU)

Notes: Hello! This was an unexpected update. I didn’t think I’d ever finish this chapter, but lo and behold, it’s here! I don’t know much about law school and lawyer life, but I’ve been lovingly helped by @moodymelanist and @kingandfireheart and am very grateful for all of it. I’m also looking up a bunch of things and trying to stay as completely accurate as possible, but if you are a law student or lawyer and I mess something up, I’m sorry in advance. Anyways, I hope you all like this chpater. It’s not much “plot” mostly angst and vibes and setting up the background if nothing else. Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist- I’m pretty sure I added everyone who asked to be added, but this was surprisingly a large taglist so if I missed anyone, please don’t hesitate to let me know. As always, I hope you enjoy and I’d love to hear about what you’re thinking when you’re done!

Suits Masterlist

~*~

Chapter 2

5…4…3…2…1

Thank the Gods.

Nesta shot out of her seat as soon as the clock struck 9:30 AM. She was done. It was done. She could get the hell out of here, away from this cursed day and cursed building and cursed life and just-

“Alright everyone,” Cassian announced, glancing to the clock on his left. “That’s it for our first day. If you check your online modules, you’ll see the chapters that I’ve assigned for your reading. Be prepared for discussion next class. I’m not assigning write-ups because it’s your first week but you better not slack off on reading because of it.”

People began filing out and Nesta, bag already ready to go, also began rising, hoping to shuffle out with the tide and avoid any interaction.

“Nesta Archeron?” Cassian called out.

Nesta froze in her path while the rest of the class began leaving. She looked at him but unlike her, Cassian seemed the picture of calm, collected and utterly aloof to the disaster happening in her head. In fact, he’d been completely normal throughout the entire class period. Nesta had almost hurled up her guts when they were ten minutes in.

“Nesta? Archeron?” Cassian looked around again until finally he saw where she’d stopped. A few feet from his desk, body stll angled towards the door as more students made their way out.

“Come here please," Cassian said to her.

"Come. One more time, baby. Come for me. I know you want to," Cassian had whispered to her as he'd pushed her through climax after climax after climax, and she'd become a boneless mess on his bed.

Nesta shook her head of the image of him dipping his head over and over between her legs. She didn't need her brain doing this to her. Not right now. Not as she came to stand right in front of him.

Nesta noted quite a few students still ambling out of the room, taking their time to likely listen to whatever Cassian wanted to talk about.

Busybodies.

Cassian cast a cursory glance behind her shoulder, noting the same thing and likely thinking the same as her too.

Cassian moved then, bringing his laptop and typing something in. Without looking up at her, Cassian said, "I got an email from the registrar that there's been an issue with your scheduling in this class. Can I please have your full name and student ID?"

Nesta hesitated, not sure if he was telling the truth or using it as an excuse to talk to her.

Nesta rattled off the student ID number she'd just memorized that morning, assuming she wouldn't need to but wanting to be careful either way.

"Nesta Katrina Archeron."

Cassian nodded as she spoke and typed a bit more.

"And what's your birthday?"

Nesta almost snarled, telling him it wasn't his business. But there were still two other students in the class that hadn't left yet.

"June 19."

Cassian didn't type anything in, and Nesta followed his gaze as it landed on the last of the stragglers exiting the room.

Almost like a switch flipping, that calm, professional demeanor that Cassian had adopted for all of class time, easily dissipated.

In it's place was a look of anger so deep, so cold, Nesta had no idea how to respond. She'd never dealt with Cassian's anger when it wasn't for something dumb that he could easily over. When it wasn't from a place of laughter and faked irritation. He was genuinely upset in this moment, and Nesta didn't know how to go about it.

"What. The. Hell?"

Nesta's lip curled back of its own accord.

"Don't you dare take that tone with me. I'm just as much fucked in this as you are."

Cassian opened his mouth to say something back, retort with just as much spite as she'd all but hissed at him. But then he stopped, reared back as if in shock, and sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging.

"I'm sorry," he apologized hoarsely, bracing his palms on the table between them, head hanging lowly. "I just don't get how this happened."

I do. We never told each other anything useful about ourselves.

But Nesta kept her mouth shut.

Cassian looked up after a few seconds of awkward silence. "You didn't tell me you got into law school."

Nesta swallowed, not wanting to meeting his hazel eyes in declaration of the painful truth. "I didn't tell anyone except for a few people," she admitted reluctantly. She hadn't even bothered with a phone call to her two sisters when she'd gotten the news. Just a text into their group chat and two "Congratulations" in quick succession had been the response she'd gotten to finally getting her life together. She wouldn't begrudge them for the behavior, even if it did hurt to be snubbed.

"You didn't even tell me you wanted to go to law school."

Nesta shot back her own grievance. "You didn't tell me you were a lawyer."

Cassian looked at her in confusion, brow furrowed, and Nesta resisted the urge to smooth it out with her fingers.

"I thought you knew."

"How the fuck would I know?"

Cassian flinched and his eyes darted around them again, in the empty room.

Right. She needed to stop panicking. Trying again, Nesta lowered her voice and stepped closer to the desk separating them. “Sorry. But how I would have known? You never said anything.”

Cassian opened his mouth and then shut it again, eyes widening in some sort of realization that he wasn’t about to share. Shuffling some papers into a stack, he muttered down at the floor. “I just thought you did.”

Nesta shook her head. Sighed. “Okay. I’m going to go speak to the registrar and get this class changed.”

“No. You can’t.”

Nesta scoffed. “I can and I will. It’s the first day. They can’t stop me.”

Cassian moved around the desk until they were properly face to face. Too close. This was too close for any respectable professor and student to be around each other. Nesta took a step back and Cassian seemed to realize his mistake, cringing slightly before also stepping back.

“Sorry,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “But they won’t let you drop the class. Crim law is a requirement here for every first year.”

“Surely there are other...teachers.” She wouldn’t say professor. That was too weird for her.

Cassian nodded. “Yeah, but Nolan's a piece of shit and known for being a hardass with his grading. You can't get higher than a B and that's if he tolerates you."

"I'll take my chances," Nesta snapped, turning on her heel and making her way towards the door. But a firm grip on her wrist pulled her back.

Nesta forced herself to calm her thoughts and emotions. Let the cool mask slip on that she’d mastered for so long. Let him see that version of her instead of the confused, heartbroken mess she had suddenly become inside the minute Cassian had put his name and “Professor” into the same sentence.

“What?” It was a biting question and Nesta knew that if it were any other man, they definitely would have flinched away from the stare she was leveling at him.

But Cassian wasn’t like any other man that had been in Nesta’s life before. Not in the ways where it mattered at least. Where others would have realized just how dangerous a game they were already playing, Cassian seemed to be ignoring it. Pulling her just enough that she had to come closer. Had to feel his breath fan across her face one last time. Knew that this would be the true end to whatever they may or may not have become one day.

“Stay. Don’t drop this class. You need to do good this year.” His words were softly spoken. Almost coaxing her gently into acceptance, but Nesta heard the underlying meaning.

“I don’t want a good grade in this class because you fucked me,” Nesta retorted sharply.

That did get to him. Cassian jerked away, releasing his hold on her. His eyes turned cold and Nesta felt the animosity hit her like a slap. She knew all about slaps. And Cassian’s expression hurt her more than any of them before. She’d always known she’d push him away one day. Her indifference, her attitude, that callous cruelty of her mouth. But she hadn’t realized how much it would hurt to see his reaction to it.

Cassian held her stare with a firmer one of his own. “You won’t. You’ll earn it just like everyone else in your class. But unlike with Nolan, you’ll earn what you get fairly. Don’t drop the class, Nesta. I won’t tell and if you choose not to either, well, nothing happened then. Nothing has to happen.”

Nesta knew then that later on she would replay his words over and over in her head until she may cry. Knew that they had left a profound impact on her in a way that she never wanted him to.

Nothing happened.

Sure she’d kept it that way, with her rules and arrangement. But it clanged around in her mind, how Cassian saw what they’d been doing together as.

Nothing.

She was nothing. They were nothing. And that was all there was to it.

But Nesta wouldn’t do this in front of him. Lose her mind and have it be pointed out just what a crazy bitch she really was. Not by Cassian. She couldn’t bear that. And she sure as hell wouldn’t go and tell on him, even if he had spoken as if he were unsure about her decision.

Instead, Nesta squared her shoulders and nodded.

“Nothing happens.”

Cassian hesitated, for a bare, fraction of a moment, but she saw it all the same. Then he nodded too.

“Nothing happens.”

~*~

Nesta leaned back against the chair, as Gwyn looked at her wide-eyed. She’d been overwhelmed by the fiasco of her first class. Had barely focused on anything the professor’s said throughout the rest of her day. She hadn’t even bothered to take out a pencil in the later afternoon classes and had fumbled around in her bag for one when an attendance sheet passed around in one of her smaller classes. Had it not been for the man sitting next to her who’d silently handed her a pencil with a small smile, she would have faced even more embarrassment on an already shitty day.

She’d seen him in a few other classes of hers, vaguely remembering his face from Cassian’s class as well. Nesta had sneaked a peek onto the sheet when he’d taken it after her, signing “Lucien” after impatiently pushing his red, waist-length hair out of his face. He’d given her another smile after he’d passed the sheet on and Nesta had returned it tentatively. She wasn’t one to smile at strangers. Barely did it with people she knew well too unless they were her friends or...Cassian.

So she’d called up her friends, praying to the Mother that they wouldn’t be too busy for her. Emerie had already graduated law school. Was already working for a legal clinic in the downtown area and loving every minute of it. Gwyn was usually always busy completing her postdoc program for psychology, but she too had made time for Nesta today. Had likely heard how rattled she sounded on the phone and had picked Emerie up on the way to their favorite bar to meet Nesta there.

"So..." Gwyn started, her eyes darting towards the bar for a second, "What do you call him?"

Nesta scoffed. "Nothing. I'm not going to talk to him or address him if I can help it. Just going to keep my head down, do my work, and get through the semester."

Emerie sat back down then, another margarita in hand and wordlessly handed it to Nesta, who accepted gratefully. She'd need another one soon with the topic at hand.

"Okay but valid question. What if you have a question? I know you're a genius or whatever, but you're going to raise your hand and talk. And either way, he’s going to cold call eventually. You can’t get away with not talking to him. So, what’s the plan to talk to him? Professor? Cassian?,” Emerie asked matter-of-factly.

But then with an evil smirk, she added in with a sultry tone, “Daddy?”

Nesta smacked her friend’s shoulder faster than Gwyn could stop her. Gwyn who was currently howling with her head thrown back, not a care in the world at everyone around them watching. Emerie rubbed the spot where Nesta had landed a hit with contempt but Nesta narrowed her eyes right back at her.

Gwyn eventually wiped tears from her eyes, slowly catching her breath from the laughing fit Nesta thought really wasn’t necessary.

It wasn’t that funny.

Gwyn placed a comforting hand on Nesta’s shoulder and Nesta leaned slightly into it. The last thing she needed to hear were jokes about this horrifying situation. Comfort was all she wanted.

“Leave her alone, Emerie,” Gwyn chided. “You don’t know what you’re talking about saying things like that.”

Nesta sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

Finally, someone understood how she felt.

Gwyn nodded. “No problem Nesta. I’m on your side don’t worry. You just need to keep your head down, avoid speaking as much as possible, and whenever you absolutely do need to talk, just call him Professor Daddy.”

“Bitch.”

Emerie joined Gwyn as they laughed even louder.

Nesta hissed, "You two are useless. I’m having a dilemma and here you two are cracking jokes about it.”

“Because it’s funny!,” Emerie insisted. “Who would have thought, Cassian, the guy you’ve been seeing, the one we haven’t even met yet by the way, is not only a lawyer, but your new professor. I mean honestly, it’s like a match made in heaven.”

Gwyn muttered under her breath. “Hell. It’s a match made in hell.”

Nesta went to smack her too but Gwyn nimbly got to her feet, announcing that she was going to go order their food.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know he was a lawyer. Goes to show just how smart miss perfect is going to be in school.” Emerie chuckled again and Nesta reigned in a mean comment that wouldn’t bode well.

Nesta rolled her eyes instead. “Fuck you. I’ll manage. And besides, it’s not like I didn’t Google him. I did.”

Emerie raised her brows, as if to say, “But did you really try hard?”

“I did!,” Nesta insisted. “I looked up Cassian and his address but I couldn’t find shit.”

Emerie furrowed her brows in confusion. “You just put in his first name. What about his last?”

Nesta shrank back in her seat. “I...um...I didn’t know his last name until today.”

Emerie didn’t show her surprise at that. Nor did she show any judgement. Both her and Gwyn knew that her and Cassian’s relationship was more based on sex and less on private and intimate details. She also didn’t say how pathetic that was of her, or how stupid considering this was someone Nesta had let into her house and her bed.

Indeed, what if he had been a serial killer like Gwyn had warned about all those months ago?

Emerie pulled out her phone, flicking her eyes up at Nesta after putting in her password. “Okay what’s his full name?”

“Cassian Virin.”

Emerie looked like she was choking. A strange fizzing noise seemed to be coming from her lips but she looked more on the verge of screaming rather than laughing.

“You’re fucking with me right?”

Nesta glanced at Gwyn as she sat back down, putting away her credit card and the receipt of the meal she’d just ordered for them all. Nesta peeked at the bill. Tacos. Thank the Mother. Gwyn knew exactly what she needed in that moment.

Snapping her attention away from dinner, Nesta shook her head at Emerie, knowing she hadn't heard wrong when Cassian had spoken earlier that day.

“No. I heard him say it. Cassian. Virin. That’s his name.”

Emerie stared and stared and stared.

“What?” she finally snapped.

“What? What? What do you mean what? You don’t know who he is?”

Nesta stared blankly. Emerie let out a sound of exasperation before typing on her phone and shoving it towards Nesta.

On the screen were images of Cassian. Cassian with the men whose photos littered his home- his brothers most likely. Cassian with some leggy blonde who Nesta admitted secretly she hated on sight just for how close she was posing next to him. Cassian in picture after picture, article after article.

Nesta’s eyes scanned impatiently over the words on the screen, devouring every news report and article until finally she realized what she’d missed completely. Cassian wasn’t just any lawyer. He was known as one of the best criminal defense attorneys in the state of Illinois.

“How did you not know this?,” Emerie demanded once Nesta explained her revelation.

Nesta was mildly affronted at that. “I...don’t really know. I’m not from here like you two are. I lived in California for most of my life. I wouldn’t have known anything about him. And it’s not like I went to law school for four years to figure out that he’s a celebrity,” Nesta added on, shooting a look at Emerie with her last sentence.

Emerie leaned back in her chair, not at all affected. “Yeah I know. I keep forgetting since you’ve adapted so well.” Turning to Gwyn, Emerie asked, “Remember how she came here sounding like a Valley girl before.”

Nesta gave her the middle finger as Gwyn giggled.

Nesta had met Gwyn and Emerie as a freshman in college during her first shift at a local bar. Gwyn had been a senior, well on her way to graduating with honors and starting her Masters program in Neuropsychology. Emerie had come from Evanston after her undergraduate years and was attending The University of Chicago Law School. Nesta still considered it fate that five years later, it ended up being the same school Nesta ended up being accepted to and attending. The two older girls had taken Nesta in, under their wing, and the friendship had been easy and safe. For the first time in Nesta’s life, she felt that she belonged somewhere. After her sophomore year, Nesta thought her life was almost close to perfect. Especially when she met-

No. Not going to think about that today.

Nesta ignored the dark train of thought her mind had almost taken her to and instead tuned back into the conversation that was happening around her. Gwyn was doing an impression of Nesta’s apparent valley girl accent and Emerie was doing a horrific, overexaggerated Chicago one, with both girls asserting that Nesta switched between the two of them all the time.

Nesta smacked them both before digging into her tacos.

Damned witches.

~*~

Nesta kept her head down as Cassian spoke to a student in the front row about the assigned case readings. Her previous night’s swagger had been kindly reduced to smithereens after she’d gone home and taken in the readings she needed to finish for Cassian’s class...

And every other class she had too.

Nesta had been ready to quit the night of, regretting the night out she’d stupidly had with Gwyn and Emerie, no matter how fun she’d found it to be. She’d powered through on spite alone at the thought of messing up on only the second day, in Cassian’s class no less. The rest of her work for her other classes had only been helped by espresso shots. Nesta was wired for the better part of early morning, but not the fatigue was finally beginning to catch up with her.

Nesta was writing down the spare few words that she was able to pick up on, but her sleep deprived brain could do little in terms of actually paying attention and creating concrete notes that would make sense if she revisited them. She’d definitely regret it whenever she sat down to study, but Gods she was so tired.

Nesta got a vague sensation of being stared at. Of being watched. But she ignored and continued writing nonsensical words onto her paper. A sharp jab in her side caught her attention.

A panicked Lucien beside her whispered frantically to her, “He called on you twice already. Say something!”

Nesta was confused. She looked at Lucien for a little longer, his words still not quite processing with her.

“Archeron.” Cassian’s voice cut through the fog in her head and she snapped her attention to the front of the room. Cassian was glowering at her and to Nesta’s horror, her feeling of being watched had been completely accurate. Everyone was staring at her.

“Yes?” Nesta cleared her throat, not liking how meek and disoriented she sounded.

Cassian sighed. “I asked you what you thought of your classmate’s response. Do you agree or not? And why?”

Fuck her. She hadn’t heard anything useful. Hadn’t been paying enough attention at all.

Nesta chanced a glance at Lucien sitting next to her, and he had what she thought to be a mirroring expression to her own on his face. Horror, panic and absolute embarrassment.

“I...I don’t know,” she finally admitted. Didn’t want to say she hadn’t been able to focus long enough on whatever he and the other student had been saying to even fake an answer. She simply didn’t know.

Cassian nodded a few times, more to himself than anyone else. “Do you have any opinion at all about what you were assigned to read last night?”

She did. Tons actually. But suddenly, Nesta felt the eyes on her narrow in scrutiny. Could practically hear their thoughts out loud.

Not good enough. Not smart.. Useless. Not worthy.

You don’t belong anywhere, Nesta.

Nesta couldn’t bring herself to say no, knowing that admitting defeat rather than trying to overcome the nerves was the better option. It didn’t matter that she did know what was going on in class. Or that she wasn’t an idiot like it looked like to the entire class. Nesta simply shook her head, tightening the muscles in her face as tears began blurring her eyesight. She would not cry. Not like this.

Cassian’s face flickered with some sort of emotion, one she couldn’t place, but it was there and gone.

“Disappointing,” he announced, stare still leveled on her. She could feel the tension crackle through the air. It would have been better if he’d yelled at her or kicked her out of the class. Instead, he’d all but called her a failure, and now she’d have to sit through the rest of the class with that hanging over her.

Which she did.

Painfully. Angrily. Upset and barely composed.

But she did it.

And as she began packing up her things at the end of the period, Lucien giving her a small pitiful smile that she barely returned, Nesta contemplated how quickly she could run out of the room without looking directly at Cassian.

Except, as fate would have it, she was not a favorite in the world by whatever Gods had created it.

“Nesta,” Cassian called out softly, just as she began walking by his desk in the front of the room.

Nesta steeled her spine, sighing in defeat as she made her way over to him.

Cassian didn’t speak to her as she came to stand in front of his desk. Didn’t even look up from his computer screen, typing in Gods knew what. Nesta was about to leave, rules and proper manners be damned, but the last student finally walked out of the room.

Finally Cassian looked at her.

“What was that?,” he asked lightly, crossing his arms across his chest.

Nesta decided to feign ignorance. “What was what?”

A sly smile played on his lips. “Cute. But not wise. Why couldn’t you answer today?”

“Because I didn’t know the answer.”

Cassian cocked his head a fraction, examining her. As if the entirety of her was wrong, not just her response to him.

“I hope you understand there was no right or wrong answer. It was a discussion to help orient your thought process and how you analyze the material. Which you would be able to participate in as long as you read what you were supposed to.”

“Well, I didn’t finish the readings.”

The lie sat and tasted bitter in her mouth. She hated it. Hated admitting weakness in such a horrible way. In a way that wasn’t even truthful, just to save face and not have to admit the profoundly large effect Cassian had ended up having on her.

Cassian chuckled. A dark, sinister thing that Nesta hadn’t been privy to witnessing ever. He walked around his desk until they were again closer. Again with far too little space between them. Again with those glinting hazel eyes peering down at her.

“Now that’s funny. Because it’s almost believable except you’re not the person that doesn’t do your homework. In fact, according to what I saw from your records and application, it’s not in your nature to do so.”

“You read my application?,” she demanded, furious with a touch of panic. "How did you even get it?”

Cassian scoffed. “One, I didn’t read all of it. I just saw your coursework, your grades, and your letters of recommendation. I didn’t read your personal statement, don’t worry. And two, all the professors have access to student records.”

Lie. That had to be a violation of some sort. He so didn’t have access to shit. What he did have, Nesta would begrudgingly admit, was a beautiful face and a great smile. and way too much charm for anyone to be oblivious to it.

Nesta didn’t respond, so Cassian continued.

“Great grades. Stunning observations about your work ethic as a student and determination to come to class prepared by almost everyone who wrote you a letter. So, I don’t think you’d fuck around on your work. Especially not on the first week of classes.”

Nesta couldn't deny it any longer. “Fine,” she expelled in a quick breath. “I finished the readings.”

“All of them?” Cassian confirmed.

“Yes. All of them.”

“Then why not say something today?”

Nesta sighed in defeat. “Because I wasn’t paying enough attention the first time around with whatever you and that guy were talking about. And then everyone was staring at me and I...”

“You panicked and forgot what you had to say? And even if you did, you knew it would come out completely wrong and be mortifying?”

Nesta nodded miserably, looking at her shoes, biting her lip.

A cool set of fingers grasped her chin and tilted her face back up. Cassian forced her to look at him. Wouldn’t let her run away from it.

“it happens,” he said softly. “You’ll learn. You’ll be okay.”

She half wondered if he was telling her more for himself or for her. Nesta didn’t dwell on it, knowing full well how this was going to end. Carefully, she pulled back from him, from the hand that was still grasping her chin, and Cassian seemed to remember who they were and what they were doing. Or, what they weren’t supposed to be doing.

“Thank you,” she said awkwardly.

Cassian gave her a small smile and she returned it weakly.

“Well, I should go,” she announced after a few awkard seconds.

“Of course. Don’t be late,” Cassian let out in a rush.

Nesta had almost made it to the door when Cassian called for her again.

“Yeah?”

Cassian looked at his laptop before glancing back at her again.

“You did really well in your undergraduate years. Except for junior year, your grades were terrific. You took the LSATs on time too and you scored really well,” he summarized neatly. Nesta could feel bile climbing up her throat as Cassian added in quickly, “And you scored even higher than me!”

Nesta didn’t know what to say, knowing where the question was likely heading.

“So why take a year in between college and law school? I saw that you worked as a paralegal, but with this application, I can tell you, you would have gotten in without it.”

She’d been right about what Cassian had been going to ask her. She also knew that this was not the question she would be answering today. Not today, not with him, and likely not ever. Nesta decided on a simple lie instead.

“I couldn’t afford the tuition. So I decided to wait the year, work more than I can ever do right now and get a head start on loans and saving money. It also helped me settle down into my apartment rather than a college dorm.”

“You’re still working?,” Cassian asked surprised, not commenting on what she’d revealed about her tuition. She could have handled it but that year had been nothing to do with money and everything to do with Nesta’s personal turmoils.

Nesta shook her head. “I quit once I got accepted, but looking at that bill every month is making me worry that it wasn’t smart to do that. So, not currently working, but I want to soon. Somewhere closer to school though. The other firm was too far away from here for me to make it work.”

Cassian’s brows raised slightly at the confession. “Most students aren’t advised to work during 1L. You can do it if you really need to, but it’s not a requirement and it makes classes horribly difficult to get through.”

Nesta thought about it. Knew he was right but that she didn’t exactly have a choice. “I’ll be fine,” she told him.

Cassian looked at her with a more pronounced smile than before. “Of course you will sweet-....um...Nesta. You’ll do great. Have a good rest of the day.”

“Thank you.” Nesta ignored his slip-up, his pet name for her that she’d acted irritated by but secretly loved. Ignored the pang in her chest as she turned away from him.

Nesta walked out of Cassian’s classroom, not sure if she felt lighter or heavier from the moment that she’d stepped back into it.

~*~

Tags:

@spoilersteph @rhysandswingspan @purpleglitterypinecone @pixieelea @absolution-s @sv0430 @positivewitch @royaltykxx @moodymelanist @stardelia @gwynberdara @charming-butt-insane @cassiansbigwingspan @a-court-of-milkandhoney @bookstantrash @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @queenestarcheron @nessiansimp @cassianscool @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @courtofjurdan @vasudharaghavan @sayosdreams @moe8 @arielle-reads @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @nahthanks @oversizedbats @swankii-art-teacher @inardour @rowaelinismyotp @starryblueskies7 @nestaarcher0n @vidalinav @nessiantrashh @lanyjoy-13 @iwastoowildinthe70s @nessianlordandladyofillyria @ladygabrielli1997 @moonlitchandeliers @vanzetanze @generalnesta @drielecarla @moodymelanist @wishfulimaginings @amaranthas-whore

#nessian #nesta archeron #nesta archeron fanfiction #nessian fanfiction #nessianmonth #nessian au #acosf #acosf fanfiction #acosf au #cassian

275 notes · View notes

sukirichi · 4 years

Note

a little think i thought of today:

reader who’s ranting to some man at the bar (toji) that their boyfriend (megumi) isn’t able to please them anymore. toji knows it’s megumi’s significant other and takes the reader home to show them that that fushiguro dick should be like. mans just absolutely puts the reader in a mating press and RAW DOGS them (doesn’t have to cum in them but certainly could👀). ends with toji dropping the bomb that megumi is her son and gives the reader an absolute shock factor. reader is distraught but doesn’t have the heart to tell megumi.

enjoy my thirst & sorry for the horny (10 bonks for me)

-🐌

warnings: nsfw under the cut, dub-con, rough sex, don’t read if you’re uncomfortable!

Oh my gosh, this idea is SEKC. I took long to respond because I wanted to give a scenario or small drabble for this, but my eyes are worn out and screw it, I’m jumping on thirst land with you. first of all, HELL YES. you’re just so tired and stressed out that you’re just not attracted to megumi anymore, and you wonder if maybe you’re falling out of love, or really, the sex is just really bad. it isn’t that Megumi is bad in bed, but he’s so stressed from work that sex with him is mostly just lame fucking for release, and you like to savor your time, you know?

you don’t want a “cheap fix.” so just as megumi passes out after an orgasm beside you, you clean yourself up and go to a nightclub, dressing sexily because you NEED to feel sexy after that lame excuse of a fuck.

then you meet dilf toji.

he’s dark, tall, handsome, and funny. easy to talk to as well. tyou share a few drinks and you’re lost in each other’s presence, the grinding and sexual chaos of typical nightclubs just fading into the background, THEN you finally get to the topic of why you’re there.

toji is there simply because he’s taking a break after a long day of work (aka being a hitman lmfao) and then SHYLY, but also desperate to tell someone because your friends would make fun of you if you told them, you admit you don’t enjoy sex with your partner anymore. that you’re mostly just being used to relieve some stress and you don’t even get to cum. you’re annoyed, irritated, and with all that pent-up sexual tension, you’re fucking horny.

meanwhile, toji is just there like, “oh, really? he’s not even making you feel good? not even a little clit rubbing?” it makes you flustered with how he’s teasing you but you’re like, “yeah, it’s just awful. i can’t even look him in the afce without wanting to punch him.”

toji goes, “well, i can always help you, if you’d like.”

and yeah the uber driver is SCARRED because you’re dry humping in the backseat and you’re like ohshitohshit but also, his body is so big and warm and he makes you feel AROUSED and WANTED and you’re really horny, so you can’t really care anymore.

toji is just cocky that you can’t keep your hands off him, and you go to his house because ofc, megumi’s asleep in your home.

you make out and strip clothes all the way to the bedroom, so eager to fuck each other that your bra is on the chandelier, panties are on the countertop, and your dress is somewhere under the coffee table. it’s a mess, but a hot mess.

toji is a PLEASER. he’s the type to show off his strength and how good he can make someone feel, and he’s determined to give you the dicking of your life, and also to set a standard that, “this is how fushiguro dick should be like.” you both go at it so hard that you don’t even notice the framed photo in his living room with toji attending megumi’s college graduation.

he fucks you RAW. after assurance that you’re on the pill, ofc, but also because he wants you to feel every ridge and vein of his cock. wants to feel you creaming down on him and walls tightening around his fat cock and he is BIG.

you aren’t a virgin, but it sure does feel like you are because of how his fat cock stretches you. and when he bottoms out? you can barely breathe.

he’s just starting tho. he will press your thighs on your stomach and have your knees planted beside your head just so he can have full access to your pussy, and the squelching sounds are so pornographic you’re putting an adult star to shame. you’re screaming and squirting all over his cock, but his sex drive is so high that he’s not even close, so he just keeps pounding into you until you’re drooling and fucked out in his sheets. body sore, love bites everywhere, but you’re not complaining because it’s been such a long time you’ve been fucked good, and you’re still not satisfied.

doesn’t really cum in you because he’d rather see your pretty face covered in him and would most likely bust a nut just from seeing you swallow his thick cum, and when you’re panting and about to pass out from the best fucking of your life, you see his ID peaking out from his discarded pants, and it reads toji fushiguro.

“wait, fushiguro?” your heart drops from your chest, and you slowly peek at toji who’s also still trying to catch his breath. he DID just make you cum six times after all, and he’s had a long day at work, so cut him some slack. “would you happen to know a megumi fushiguro?”

the grin on his face is absolutely shit-eating. “yeah, he’s my son,” he finally drops the bomb, and you feel like you’re about to explode. “i hope i’ve done our family name some justice. i must say though - i’m surprised megumi has a really pretty girlfriend.”

#toji x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #tw:dubcon #asks #THIRSTS #anon:🐌#i love your big sekc brain 😫😫😫💖💖💖

732 notes · View notes

mrs-gucci · 3 years

Text

Anything Goes {Maurizio Gucci x Reader}

anonymous (half of their request):

I think the world needs a Maurizio x Studio 54 fic 👀

author’s notes: hello, hello! YES, I think we need this...and now we have it! thanks for sending it in <3 I really enjoyed researching a bit and whipping up this piece! a special thanks to @babbushka for being the resident Studio 54 expert! Mauri isn’t as ‘soft’ here as he is when I write him usually, but I honestly loved exploring this sort of ‘wild side’.

warnings: smut. porn with some plot. masquerade. I think Studio 54 is a warning of its own. dancing. grinding. p in v. unprotected sex. fluff at the end.

(possible) tw’s: some alcohol consumption. cigarette smoking (canon for character). (!!) implied infidelity/extramarital sex. public sex. (!!)

word count: 2.46k

terms to know

Bellissima means ‘beautiful’ in Italian (an affectionate nickname). Dio means ‘God’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece). Cristo means ‘Christ’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece). Cazzo means ‘fuck’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece).

maurizio’s taglist peeps! @icarusinthesea @eagerforhoney my general taglist peeps! @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-zimmerman @dirtytissuebox @thepalaceofmelanie (if you’d like to be added to or removed from any of my taglists, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist)

Muffled tunes bump from the concrete walls as you and your small group of friends walk past the blocks-long line. You flash your Gucci company ID to the bouncer, who lets you in immediately, getting a few envious mutters and groans from the line-goers.

Studio 54 is the place to be these days and luckily for you, working at the House of Gucci’s New York branch gets you premiere access, since the CEO is a huge investor in the club.

Tonight’s a masquerade theme, so all patrons are wearing a variety of different masks, from whole-face masks to only eye masks. But, each was very much their own, a sea of colors and sequins and feathers as their wearers stride about.

You’re clad in a risqué disco getup, wearing a metallic silver tube top and matching skirt with some small heels that you’re sure you’ll tire of rather quickly. But Studio 54, from what you’ve heard, is all about the looks, the glitz and the glamour. Your eye mask is made to match tonight’s look as well as resemble cat-eye glasses, black with small silver wings coming off the pointed edges.

Your winter coat is checked and then you head up to the dance floor, music getting louder and louder as you ascend the staircase. Your breasts bounce a bit with each step, nipples peering out from beneath the silver fabric. Studio 54 is known for its ‘anything goes’ rule, and you fully intend on taking advantage of that freedom tonight.

It’s jam-packed, just as you’d expected it to be, sweaty bodies dancing and grinding together in a large group on the floor. The stale air is hazy with cigarette smoke, smells of sex and drugs linger all throughout the thick, humid air. Your senses are overwhelmed while at the same time aroused by the sights and smells of Studio 54.

While your friends head over to the bar to grab drinks, you head right onto the dance floor, beginning your night of wild, passionate fun. A few guys come and grind with you for a few minutes or so, but they leave shortly after. Your eyes peer through the holes in your mask, lingering over the talent standing at the sides of the floor, scouting and waiting to devour their scantily-clad prey.

Your gaze pauses on a man leaning against one of the pillars, lighting up a cigarette. He looks in stark contrast to all other club-goers who sport the metallic, the feathers, the sequins, the avant-garde. He’s so abnormally normal with his crisp, classy 007-type tuxedo. His chestnut brown hair drapes down to just below the brilliant white collar of his button-up, neatly moussed and styled. He’s disguised by a bright white half-face mask, making him appear almost ghoulish when paired with his handsomely pale skin.

His eyes suddenly dart over to meet yours and your cheeks heat up as you look away, biting your lip softly. He smirks, taking a drag off his cigarette before heading over to the bar. He’s going to need some courage juice in him before he approaches you.

The night wears on and you start to get a bit discouraged. You’re still having fun, of course, you just wish that it was going more according to your fantasy and imagination. Perhaps you should head to another club, see if you fare better there.

Deciding in favor of checking out other hotspots in the area, you begin to make your way off to the side back towards the door. Suddenly, a set of large, strong hands slide onto your waist and pulls you back, forcing you to collide with a large body. The scent of expensive cigarettes enveloping you as he steps up behind you and goosebumps instantaneously erupt down your arms as the tall man leans down, lips now at your ear.

“Ciao, bellissima.” His voice is slightly husky and thick with Italian origin, alcoholic breath hot on your skin. “The party’s out here on the floor, not down at coat check.”

You chuckle. “It seems that no one wants to party with me for more than five minutes tonight. I was gonna try my luck at another club.”

He pulls you back a bit further against him.

“Well then, it’s lucky I caught you. I’d be just kicking myself if I missed the chance to dance with a beauty like you.”

“I think you overestimate my talents, sir.” You’re wondering if this is a dream, something to cope with the real-life disappointment of the night.

The man chuckles, running his nose along the side of your neck and inhaling your sweet perfume. “And I think you underestimate your talents, miss.”

A slower, more sensual song begins to play through the speakers and you reach up to wrap your hand around the back of your unknown dance partner’s neck, keeping him down near your head.

“Let’s find out who’s right, then, shall we?”

His grin is obvious, even though you can’t see him. “Yes, let’s.”

You start by leaning back against him, simply feeling out the slow and steady rhythm of the beat. You’ve never felt so relaxed, so carefree before and it feels really, really nice. He drops his hands from your hips, but sways along with you, trying to keep his lips away from your up-done hair.

He ends up having a few of your hairs catch on his plush lips a few minutes later, causing him to have to try spitting them out subtly and quietly.

It doesn’t work.

You laugh softly and he blushes, chuckling awkwardly along with you. “Sorry about that. You must’ve caught some of my flyaways.”

“Yes, it seems that way. I feel guilty for ruining the mood, though.” His nose nudges at your temple, hands coming back up to hold your hips as he senses your motions grow a bit quicker.

“Don’t. I’m sure we can manage to bring it back to what we had before. In fact, I think we can make it even better.”

Your hips begin to circle back against him at a more aggressive rate of speed, moving the fabric of his dress slacks all over his hardening crotch. His breath is shaky as it comes out through his nose, fingers digging a bit tighter into the flesh of your hips.

The humid air practically suffocates the two of you as the other patrons dance all around, causing a slick sheen to quickly cover your skin, the roots of your hair soaking through steadily. Your fingers gently massage his scalp as his lips move and suck red marks into your tender skin that’ll surely turn purple by the end of the night.

Soon, he begins experimentally rolling his pelvis in time with your motions, grunting against your neck at the sensations this new move is creating. He’s almost fully hard beneath his suit slacks by now, already planning out how he’s gonna get with you tonight. Patrizia doesn’t have to know about this.

“So, are you ever gonna let me see you, mystery man?” You ask, chuckling.

He blushes beneath the mask. He’s extremely hesitant to let you see him, an instinct born of being in the spotlight since youth. But then he remembers, he’s in America and he has a mask on.

His hands pull away from you and a small kiss placed on your exposed shoulder. “Look upon me, then, bellissima.”

Suddenly gripped with nerves, you turn around slowly and look up. He’s handsome; the epitome of men, warm brown hair and endearing ocean blue eyes. His gazes roam your masked appearance in a similar manner, relieved that you don’t seem to recognize him. A sudden feeling of familiarity washes over you as your eyes meet once more.

“Your eyes, your gaze...they’re familiar to me. Is there a chance we’ve crossed paths before?”

His nostrils flare in fear, eyes going wide for a moment. A soft, cautious breath leaves his lips and he shakes his head quickly. “No, it’s not likely. I’ve been told I have one of those faces, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean. That’s probably it.” You step back up to him, hands smoothing over his broad chest. “Now, where were we?”

“Hmm, I think it was...” Maurizio smirks, leaning down so that his lips hover just above yours. “Right about here, if I recall correctly.”

Pressing yourself up on your toes, you connect your lips to his just as the last of his sentence passes through his velvety pink lips. Your arms snake up around the back of his neck, fingers toying with the rich brown locks. They certainly won’t be so neatly styled when you’re finished with him tonight, that much you’re sure of.

He smiles against your lips, stepping up a bit closer to you, body now pressing right up against yours. The two of you remain that way until he pulls away softly, breathing slightly heavy as his eyes look over your face.

“Can I take you upstairs? To the uh, balcony, perhaps?”

Oh, you’ve heard plenty of things about the balcony and the heat has already begun to pool in your loins. You nod, a small but devious grin stretching across your face.

“Absolutely. Lead the way, handsome.”

The two of you make your way towards the staircase, dodging and weaving through the crowds of dancing drag queens, salacious skaters, carefree celebrities and various other perky patrons.

“Do I get to learn your name before we reach the balcony?”

His breath hitches. “Mauri, you can call me Mauri.”

Your brows furrow slightly. You’ve never heard a name like that before, but maybe it’s some kind of nickname.

“Mauri, got it. I’m Y/N.”

Y/N. A beautiful name, fit for a beautiful woman.

He smiles and nods, guiding you up to the balcony. When you arrive, there are already plenty of people inhabiting the space, all in various stages of either sex, undress or getting high.

This is definitely where a majority of the sex smell downstairs is originating from.

Mauri keeps his head tilted downwards and you swear you can see a bit of a blush on his cheeks as he takes you over to a relatively secluded corner. He undoes his belt quickly, sloppily kissing you as he does so.

You gasp sharply into his mouth when he suddenly scoops you up and slams you against the wall, lips working your neck while his hands free his hardened arousal from where it’s trapped beneath the restrictive suit fabric.

Your skirt is promptly pushed up to rest on your hips, your panties are pushed to the side, and Mauri’s cock is sheathing itself inside you before you can even process it.

“Ohhh christ.”

His jaw slacks against your neck, eyes squeezing shut while his hot breath spreads over your taut skin. Goosebumps erupt where the invisible warmth falls. “Dio.”

He stays still for a moment, then buries his face into the crook of your neck before his hips begin to move. There’s nothing slow or intimate about what the two of you are doing, it’s carnal. It’s sloppy and rough, the sweat mingling especially where your skin is pressed against his.

The smell of sex that permeates around you only makes the whole experience that much more arousing. Your eyes looking around the room to see other couples getting off, shuddering and whining as you make eye contact with a young woman currently getting fucked on the ground. Your insides clench around him instinctively, earning you a small grunt while your hand takes hold of his silky brown locks.

“You’re tight, cristo, so hot and slick for my cock.”

Your head falls back against the wall with an audible clunk sound and you cringe in acute pain for a quick moment, but the pure lust and hunger flowing through you provides the adrenaline needed to ward off the pain. It’ll surely be sore come dawn, but really, you couldn’t care less at the moment.

“So big, Mauri, fucking me so good.”

Mauri fucks you harder, then, crooked teeth scraping against the taut flesh of your neck, panting softly. You reach down into the humid space between your bodies until your fingertips find the engorged bud nestled neath folds of delicate flesh.

A wet sound soon emerges from between your legs as your fingers swipe back and forth over your clit quickly, bringing yourself right up to the edge within only a minute or two.

He grunts into your neck, pace rapidly devolving into one that’s erratic and desperate, shaft pulsing under the tight grip of your insides. His breathing grows quick and shallow, hands pushing at your spread legs to push them further into a spread eagle position.

“Where do you want it?”

You moan along with his motions, pitch heightening slightly with each of his powerful thrusts. “Fuck, I--”

Suddenly, you’re thrown over the edge, a powerful orgasm hitting you like a truck. An avalanche of pleasure rolls over your body, nerves buzzing with warm feelings of release. Your hand wraps around the back of his head, lips near his ear to catch the chorus of whimpers, whines and little mewls that leave your lips.

“M-Mauri.”

His brows crease, knitting in the center of his forehead as he fucks you through it, finding it a nearly impossible feat to stave off his own climax, but he manages.

“Cazzo, I--wheredoyouwantit?” He’s barely holding on, now.

“Outside, a-anywhere.”

Balls pulling up, Mauri moans and pulls out quickly, just as the first thick rope of creamy release spatters onto your fleshy inner thighs. A long, shaky groan leaves his lips before he crashes them onto yours to muffle the rest of his sounds.

You move with him, lips liquid with his, fluid motions so effortless that you’d think the union was one entity. He pulls away from your lips slowly, then out of your tingling cunt, a smile on his face the whole way along.

“I apologize for the mess, bellissima.” He pulls out a handkerchief and wipes the creamy liquid from your thighs before helping pull your skirt back down. “There we go.”

You offer him a small smile, biting your lip as the unsureness of what to do next takes over. After a moment, you clear your throat, chuckling softly.

“I’m not really sure what to do next, if I’m completely honest.”

“Me neither.” His cheeks, of what you can see of them behind the mask, turn a shade of pink. “How about I buy you a drink at the bar? That seems like a good place to start.”

Your lips instantly curve upwards into a smile and you offer him a soft nod.

“A drink would be great.”

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