Thread by @iiastriferii

drink me down, spit me up // a #shinkami fic

cw// fantasy au, prostitution, dub-con, orgy, voyeurism, masturbation, begging, overstim, virginity kink

https://twitter.com/fuckme_kat/status/1539034242927181826

⚡️⚡️⚡️

The door flap flies outwards, letting in the late desert sun, dust, and the answer to all of Aizawa's money troubles.

"Start us on some wine, you cheap fuck!" calls out Katsuki's rough voice. "And none of that amber shit from last time!"

His companions all fall in behind him, tripping and pushing past each other to get themselves into the massive brothel and out of the sun.

Aizawa's seated at a low table next to the entrance, a box full of coin at his feet and a scowl darkening his face.

He gestures to the table, halting all of them in their tracks.

"House rules first."

They all look at him like he's just shit in their dinner and called it seasoning, but he doesn't budge. This is a semi-respectable business, and neither Katsuki nor his trigger happy cronies are gonna ruin it.

One by one, weapons thunk onto the table. Swords and daggers, caltrops and cherry bombs filled with gunpowder and some kind of unholy, corrosive slime that Ashido alone knew the formula for.

Hanta drops ropes and whips spiked with acacia thorns, sharp as his reedy little smile and the vials of manchineel poison that go with them.

Aizawa suppresses a shudder. He's seen what that shit can do and wants no part of it.

Kirishima's warhammer comes next, shaking the table with a heavy thud. It's a massive, two handed thing that only he can wield; covered with iron spikes and solid enough to turn a thigh bone to dust.

He motions for wine to be brought out at last, watching them disperse among the room to fall onto pillows and rugs and reach for whores.

They come round every few months, when the thrill of a good raid heats their blood. Bakugo and his ilk are degenerates, but well paying ones.

He leans back, looking at all the weapons they've laid out, and narrows his good eye.

"Wait a damn-" he murmurs, looking up just in time to catch the runt of their group trying to sneak in among his brethren. "Kaminari!"

The blonde freezes. Slowly turns on his heel until Aizawa can see the top half of his face smeared with kohl and his impish smile.

"Aizawaaa!" he tries. Aizawa points to the table.

"You know the rules."

Each member of Bakugo's little band of raiders had their own niche. Mina and her poisons, Kirishima's brute strength, Hanta's agility.

Denki?

Out come throwing knives, a rapier, brass knuckles, arrows, needles, a goddamn boomerang with teeth from god-knows-what stuck on the handle; little tied bags that smell of sulfur and glass vials emblazoned with runic magic and lightning bolts.

He grins, holding out empty hands. Aizawa cocks a brow. Denki sighs, pulls a dagger from his boot, and throws it onto the table.

"Happy?"

Denki was just crazy.

"I'll be happier when you get out of my face."

He feigns hurt, wincing as he squats in front of Aizawa's table. "Oooh, ouch. C'mon, 'Zawa, is that any way to treat your favorite customer?"

"Of course it's not. It's why you don't see me talking to Kirishima that way."

"HA!" Denki barks, rounding the table and grabbing the goblet of wine Aizawa has been sipping from. He's too quick, taking a long draught and licking it up from the corners of his lips. "Mm! What vineyard did you raid for this one, old man?"

"Give me that!" He snatches his cup back, deflating at what little is left. " I don't raid like you and your friends. I do business."

Denki flops over onto some pillows, gesturing for a nearby servant to hand him a new goblet of wine. "Does said business involve breaking some kneecaps? Because if it does, that's still raiding."

"Fuck off, " he says with little fire, gingerly brushing all of their weapons to the side so that he can go back to doing his balances for the month.

For a while, things settle. The tent is filled with the raucous laughter and cursing of the party recalling all of their escapades from the last few months. Hands wander up silken robes, and Hanta has already loosened his trousers to get one of the girls mouthing at his cock.

Everything is as it should be, until Shouta hears Denki choke and sputter on his wine.

"If you're going to die, go do it outside." He doesn't look up until Denki grabs him by the elbow, gold eyes wide and staring across to the tent's opposite end.

He follows the look, all the way to his newest boy. Tall and mostly leg, with an exotic head of purple hair and tired eyes. Denki's practically drooling.

"He new?" he finally chokes out, watching as the boy bends to pour some wine and the thin silk he wears clings to his ass.

Shouta nods, going back to his work. "Came through a couple days ago, actually. Him and his sister. The girl's too young to put out yet, but he promised to be a good worker."

Denki presses his lips together, and Shouta can hear him swallow. He knows that sound. The sound of money about to be made.

"He a virgin?"

That gives him pause.

Owning a pleasure house is more than picking up workers, more than playing nice to clients and managing books.

It's knowing the things about people that they would never dare to say out loud, the fetishes that expand into every part of their being whether they want it to or not.

This band is no different. Mina likes to whip men around, make them call her 'mistress' and 'goddess'. Bakugo gets off on pain, and Kirishima gets off on inflicting it.

Denki?

Denki has an appetite for virgins.

He nearly soils himself at the thought of deflowering Aizawa's new workers and has, on more than one occasion, physically fought Sero for the chance at getting to them first.

He's shameless about it, and shamelessness is profitable.

"Not sure," he replies, as casual as possible. "He wouldn't say, but I'd wager so given how red in the face he gets when he watches the others work."

Through his teeth, Denki grinds out a short "Fuck."

True to form, the young man stands off in the corner, holding a jug of wine with his head down.

They don't miss the way his eyes flick up to the girl sucking Sero's cock, the way his hips roll into her mouth and the line of his throat as his head falls back in ecstasy.

The thin silk he's draped in does nothing to hide his arousal, and Kaminari licks at his teeth like a starved animal.

"I'll fix that for him," he says distantly, rising to his feet and approaching where the rest of his band is sat.

Aizawa silently puts aside his quill and parchment, folding his hands over his mouth and catching the boy's attention.

He flicks his gaze over to Denki, nods, and leans back to watch.

Denki never takes his eyes off of his mark, not when he sits back onto damask patterned cushions and not when he kicks his boots off and pulls his feet under him.

He lets his head rest on his knuckles and pats his knee.

He approaches, cautious as a fawn on light, bangled feet that jingle with each step. The silk he's wrapped in is only a shade lighter than his hair, held together with a gold belt and a thick, golden collar around his neck.

Gods, he's prettier the closer he gets. Denki adjusts himself in his pants; conspicuously, so that the young man's eyes are drawn to the prominent line of his cock against his thigh.

"C'mere, pretty thing," he croons, shivering when that weight finally settles on his lap. He's divine up close, eyes like the amethyst beads he'd once cut from the neck of a country lord. They caught the sun so perfectly, and Denki has no doubt these eyes would do the same.

He's still holding the jug of wine, and Denki offers his empty cup to be filled. The young man does it, and Denki presses the cup into his hands as he takes away the jug and sets it off to the side.

He pauses a moment to just take him in, the miles of pale, unblemished skin and pink nipples he can't wait to bite until they go rosy.

Denki raises a knee, just enough to press it into the skin behind his balls, and his smile grows wide and hungry at the way he gasps.

"What's your name, beautiful?" He urges the servant to bring the cup to his lips, to hold it there while he takes a long drink and then curls his hand into the wispy purple hairs at the nape of his neck.

He gasps into the kiss, eyes wide and lips parting to swallow the wine Denki spills into his mouth.

Some of it runs down his neck, and his chest heaves as Denki's tongue follows the rivulets all the way down to his nipples.

"T- Hitoshi-" he breathes.

Denki grins into his skin, sucking up the wine and leaving marks that will darken to its color in due time.

“Toshi,” he croons, digging his fingers into the warm flesh of his ass. “That’s real pretty, baby.”

Gods, the poor thing’s hands are /shaking/, the remnants of wine sloshing around in the cup.

The tip of his cock presses into Denki’s stomach, a little spot of arousal there to darken the silk.

He has mercy on Hitoshi, just a little, and downs the rest of the wine before throwing away the cup.

It leaves him free to fit both hands around Hitoshi’s waist, to draw him in closer and kiss the corner of that petal pink mouth.

“Your boss told me something interesting, baby.” He licks the shell of Toshi’s ear, feels his cock jump and thighs tremble.

Over Hitoshi’s shoulder, he can see the rest of his band watching.

They’re interested, amused, well accustomed to Denki’s tastes ready to see what he does with this soft, untouched body.

“What?” It comes out on a quick breath. His hands falter in the air, not knowing if he’s allowed to touch.

Denki presses his thumbs into the divots of his hips. “He said you were fresh. That I could fix that for you. You want that?”

Hitoshi’s answer is a mess of little sounds like the mewling of a cat, at the bottom of his throat and running off on a breath.

He moves like he doesn’t know what he wants, whether he wants Denki to keep suckling bruises into his skin, to touch his cock, or to pull away.

It’s enough for Denki to decide for him. He links their fingers together, bites Toshi’s cheek as he guides the whore to palm him through his pants.

“You’ve never touched a cock before, huh?” he breathes, more for himself than seeking a genuine answer.

If Hitoshi has, he doesn’t want to know. He wants to live here, in this ‘now’ where he’s taking his every first.

The boy humors him, cheeks flushing again as he feels over Denki’s cock and ghosts a finger over the head. He shivers.

“I’ll show you, sweetness,” he says, undoing his pants. His cock smacks against his bare skin, drooling milky precum over the lines of his stomach.

Around them, the sounds of mounting pleasure are many and varied. His band are all enjoying themselves, and he wants his turn.

“Aizawa said he’d find a lord to pay for my first time,” says Hitoshi. He’s unsure of their playing field, whether the advantage is on the house or the guest.

Denki leans back a bit more, curling some of Hitoshi’s hair around his finger.

“I can pay like a lord, pretty, and I’ll fuck you better than one.”

He pulls aside purple silk, taking Hitoshi’s cock in hand and giving it slow strokes as he continues to speak.

“All they’re obsessed with are their tiny, fat cocks and convincing themselves that anyone they’ve ever stuck it in /didn’t/ fake their climax.”

He loathes those types of people, concerned only with their own pleasure with no desire to actually make their lovers fall apart. Downright selfish.

Hitoshi’s already panting. He leaks hard into Denki’s fist, makes the strokes quicker and more wet.

The stagger in his breath gives him away, and Denki slides that hand around to feel at his soft, loose hole.

“Aw, now what’s this?” he croons, slipping a finger inside and relishing the moan it pulls from the boy on his lap. “Were you touching, baby? Trying to make yourself feel good?”

He turns Hitoshi around as he says it, pushes him down onto his elbows and hikes his ass up to slide two fingers inside.

“MM!” Pre drips onto the floor. “H-had to,” he tries, choking on another sound. “Wanted to feel the inside-!”

“Oh /fuck me/,” says Denki, eyes rolling back. He stretches that pink pucker with his thumb, taps the head of his cock against it a few times and watches liquid pearl at the tip and turn the skin of Hitoshi’s ass glossy.

Hitoshi’s whimpering and pushing his ass back and /gods/, he’d give Aizawa all of his spoils if it meant keeping this one on his arm for a long, long time.

“Relax, baby,” he says through the din of Toshi’s quick, breathy “ah, ah, ah!”s when he pushes in. “Just the tip, it’s just the tip, love. Loosen up, let me in.”

And this, here, is why he loves fucking virgins. The wet gasp as he pushes all the way in, Hitoshi’s strangled “oh /gods/!” and the clench of a body that can’t decide if it wants to suck him in or push him out.

He runs a flat palm down Hitoshi’s back, all the way to the back of his neck.

“That’s it, sweetness, let me in. Feels better than fingers, doesn’t it?”

Hitoshi is ruddy and in tears, mouth open and saliva pooling in its corner.

He lets out a gasp like drowning, and Denki takes that for “yes”.

Sero’s watching in open envy, even as he guides one of Aizawa’s girls to bounce on his cock. “You gonna share that one, Denks?” he breathes, already hot and close to cumming at the expression of Hitoshi’s face.

Denki’s answering smile is mean, and he thrusts hard. Hitoshi claws at the ground, and through his whining Denki says, “Not a chance.”

For all his bravado, he’s almost scared to pick up the pace. Hitoshi is perfect around him, crying so sweet and leaking so much that a little puddle has already formed.

He massages his thumbs over those hips, and chokes when Hitoshi pushes back and looks over his shoulder with watery eyes.

“Please-“ he says, small and drawn out. “Good, feels good-!”

“Shh, baby, I know.”

He guides Toshi to spread his thighs more, rising up on his knees and thrusting downwards. /Holy shit-/

Denki’s fucked his share of people; young, old, virgins and experienced, and he’s always been able to keep an air of cocksure arrogance about him.

Knowing that he’s a good fuck, knowing he doesn’t cum selfishly.

But /fuck/-

There’s a little hum on the crest of every breath Hitoshi takes, accompanying the sweetest moaning and cries of “-going, keep going, mm-mm-MM!”

It stokes the fire low in his gut, and he gasps around the realization that he’s about to cum.

His fingers slide into Toshi’s hair, grab a thick handful and tug. He reaches around to stroke his cock, leans down to bite at the shell of his ear.

“Gods, your perfect,” he praises. His hips stutter. He presses his face into Hitoshi’s neck and bites. “Everyone’s looking, love. You’re showing off so /good/ for your first time.”

He can hear the tears in Hitoshi’s voice when he says, “I-I feel…m’gonna-!”

“Mm, let it happen, love, go on. You’re gonna cum?”

“MMF, mmhm!”

“Cum, pretty boy, lemme see it-“

Hitoshi bucks when he cums, shaking and violent till Denki has to hold him down as he wails through it with his spurting cock pressed against the floor.

It’s hot, tight and so perfect that Denki can hardly contain his own cries of “That’s it, that’s it, oh /f-fuck/-!”

He watches it pool out around the base of his cock, smears some of it across Hitoshi’s ass cheeks and keeps his cock pressed in until the final waves are finished.

He pets Hitoshi’s sweat soaked hair, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck as he says, “That’s a good boy.”

He’s dumb and sated, a far away expression on his face as he stretches out underneath Denki like a pampered house cat.

It’s the look of being well fucked, and Denki realizes he wants to be the only one seeing that look on Hitoshi’s face from now until forever.

He waits for a while, kissing Hitoshi’s shoulders and ignoring teases from his band mates as he massages the boy’s slick skin.

“I can’t let anybody else at you,” he admits into Toshi’s shoulder. “I’d have to kill them.”

All he gets in answer is a pleased hum, and that seals it.

Aizawa’s not too particular about parting with Hitoshi’s contract, given how new he is and that fact that he has a young sister to support.

He’s more than pleased at the gold Denki drops onto his table the next day when he gathers up his menagerie of weapons, an amused glint in his good eye.

“I thought you only fucked them once?” he asks, gaze flicking to Hitoshi holding onto Denki’s arm.

Those purple eyes look sly and pleased, a depth to them that tells Aizawa Bakugo’s raiding party is about to gain a valuable new member.

The raider gets that wild look in his eye, tugging Hitoshi close and pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“All dogs get leashed someday, old man,” he says. “And I don’t mind one bit.”

⚡️F.I.N⚡️

(This one was fun! Thanks again to @fuckme_kat for letting me build off his amazing art!)

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