Enji
Your job was not something you would have put on a resume.
It’s not something you proudly told your parents was paying for your graduate school on top of the studio flat that held enough room for three more people and yourself. It’s not something you brag about openly to new friends you make when they wonder how you could afford your purebred Husky and the training that came with him between the hours of your job and schooling. It’s not something you’ll tell over Thanksgiving dinner when your family praises you for taking the initiative.
But it is something that pays all of your bills and leaves you with enough spending money to live comfortably without much worry.
The college has been an issue you’ve worried about for years. Ever since you had moved away from home, with several hours currently between the two of you, it had been a source of stress that left you missing meals and unable to keep the power on periodically until the company was almost unwilling to work with you anymore. You had been at your ends, barely able to keep up with anything that was crawling its way towards you, let alone college itself. Having been at the very edge of giving up, going back home, and finding a job to coast through life with, you would still consider it a miracle until today when your classmate, who had been tutoring you in the History class you had been struggling with, asked you if you needed help. Your family wasn’t prideful, but they were stubborn, so when you were asked this you at first denied it, but you doubted just how stubborn your classmate was.
And when she offered you a job that would, and you quote, ‘Keep you comfy’, you had decided to check it out.
You wish you had asked more before you walked into the building, but when you saw the latex, the leather, the men crying, the women begging, those standing over others with these sadistic grins as they hold a primal power over whoever paid them to do this to them would you be exposed to an entirely new world. You would learn shortly after that your classmate, who was now a close friend, was a Dominatrix, and she was the sole reason behind you being introduced and invited into this world where you were currently standing in your room, back against the wall as you tapped lightly at your phone.
Your next appointment was with a man you had seen in news articles plenty of times. A Hero amongst Heroes, now seated as the number 1 in the rankings; Enji Todoroki. He had been a figure that had demanded absolute silence from the establishment you worked at, offering not only a large sum of money for you and your secret services, but he also offered a grand amount of money to the business itself to take precautions you had not seen done before. It made you realize you were servicing what was essentially a celebrity. Someone with a name so high up and well known that if it got out you were the one making him cum, the backlash on his reputation would have been beyond any damage control. It shouldn’t really matter what the man does in his spare time, but you knew how delicate his familial and work relationships already were.
So, you just took the money and granted him the piece of silence and relief he craved.
“Mistress Lilith?” The working title, helpfully suggested by your friend, was familiar when a soft hand knocked on the door. You stopped your gazing, sliding your phone away from you and onto the desk tucked away where you handled most of your final prep work. On cue, you waited for several seconds, smirking when the door wasn’t thrown open like the first time you two had met. He’s learned manners since then.
“Enter.” And the doorway was not built for a man of his size and build. Enji had to crouch and turned when he entered, wide shoulders brushing both ends of the doorway with his first step, eyes trained immediately onto you. Those bright eyes followed how the suit you wore, cast from leather and latex, flexed with every breath you gave, your own gaze admiring how the casual clothes you directed him to wear to these affairs clung to him. Even in clothes not like his Hero costume, he looks too big in them, making the fabric stretch until the stitchwork is threatening to fall apart. With his face revealed, stubble and glare open, and his muscles emphasized even through the loose shirt he wore, you felt your heart hammer away.
Enji was handsome.
“Hello, Enji. Come crawling back so soon?”
And he thrived on this.
A spark of his Quirk almost appeared on his upper lip, eyes narrowing even more as he shifted, arms curling as he shut the door behind him. You were both left alone in the room then, with a single chair the only thing separating the two of you as you take slow, easy steps forward. You stopped at the chair’s back and patted it.
“Standing there so tense.” You started, the words so natural as they slipped out. This was when you felt most at home. When you held this power balance between you and whoever entered that door. Your peak always came in these moments, when even someone such as Enji would bow to your words, shoulders scrunching tight as he stepped forward. He always acted as though it was a burden to act on the desires you dug out from him. Treated it like it wasn’t something that flustered his cheeks whenever you reached out and took him by the front of his shirt, pulling until either of his large legs were spread over the chair, thighs digging into the wood. Chest to your face, you looked up at him and pulled him down, smirking when the chair creaked as his entire weight settled on it.
“Did you wear those pants I told you to wear?”
“Yes.” He sounded annoyed you were still speaking. But when you cleared your throat he backtracked slightly. “Yes, Mistress.”
“Good boy.” Eyes narrowed, he practically snarled as a first reaction, then he settled and stared at you. Even when sitting like this, he was taller than you by a few inches, which made him have to look down to keep your gaze. “Has work been stressful again?”
He didn’t answer. Just grunted.
“Aw.” Your hand curved, catching into his hair to stroke it back, watching how his eyelids fluttered briefly, arching into the touch almost needily. “My Hero needs help with relaxing then, doesn’t he?”
“Get to it.” A sharp inhale was your only response when you jerked his hair hard. “....”
“Now, Enji, come on. You should know how to properly ask me for something now.” And while he had struggled with it since the first day he had entered your room, Enji had come to accept that the only way to get the relief he had wanted was to abide by the rules you had set up.
Including the terms specified in the contract.
“...Please.” And he swallowed his pride long enough to see that pleasing look as your hand dropped, tracing down his front between him and the wooden back of the chair, feeling his muscles flexing with every reaction. While his face never changed, you had handled his body enough times to know the subtle reactions he couldn’t hold back. Like how his thighs twitched, spreading open even more when you dipped, bunching the cloth over his half-erect cock under the cloth. A sharp inhale and you grinned.
“Good boy.” Another tug at his hair with your free hand. “Looks as though you came right after work. Filthy and sweaty as you are, you probably ran straight here.” The glare he gave told everything. “I’m right, aren’t I? So desperate for a release from a stressful day you ran right over here.”
“Please.” He said it again, like a trained dog looking for a treat before he snarled again, legs flexing when your hand cupping him rubbed at the tip.
“I don’t have all day for you today, Enji.” You said so offhandedly, so casually. As though he wasn’t a customer and instead a pest poking his nose into where he shouldn’t be. And he growled lightly, then, body tensing as his hands grasped the chair for leverage to keep from grabbing at you. “I’ll get you off, like always, and you better thank me afterward, but if you’re looking for a longer session. Well, my room is open Monday. Same time as today.”
And Enji didn’t respond. You and him both already knew he would be claiming the room Monday, expecting the usual treatment of your underwear shoved deep into his mouth to muffle his moans as you ride him. For now? Your hand had pulled his cock free from his pants, your other hand now curving down to hold up his shirt as the tip brushed high up his stomach muscles, precum already starting to leak in fat droplets. The noise he let out was beautiful, chest rumbling tight as he cocked his head down to watch your hand, much smaller than the massive cock in your grip. It pleased him to see how much bigger every part of him was compared to you. Especially when your fingers couldn’t fit around his cock, the prominent vein along the length almost as thick as one of your fingers. And when you bit your lip, your own gaze focused as it twitched in your grip.
He was hypnotized by your reactions alone.
So, the moment you started to stroke his cock, thumb digging in under the tip to milk more droplets of pre from him, he couldn’t hold back the groan. Every stroke produced a new noise from him, something you were literally pulling from him. Tender strokes, with a twist cupping over the tip to swipe the gathering droplets to lube up your hand movements, had his thighs quivering. His muscles flexed, his heart started to hammer, and he could feel the heat gathered deep in his abdomen, twisting and coiling as the gathering pressure started to gather. It had been weeks since he had seen you, so he wasn’t going to last long. The pressure and stress from his life had built on his spine like a heavyweight, adding to the building pressure your hand on his cock brought out. Squeezing and adding to it until he couldn’t keep himself from digging his nails into the chair’s back, making the wood start to splinter under his strength.
And he came.
It had caught both of you by surprise, your mouth barely moving just as you were about to start speaking to him, hoping to urge him on more and more. But you realize he must have been beyond tense with how short of a time it took for him to splatter over your hand, ropes of cum covering the chair, your hand, and your arm as he threw his head back, voice breaking into shattered groans. He shook, a full-body shiver coursing through him before he was gripping your filthy wrist and smearing his own seed in the grip. A gasp, a jerk, and he was done, still flexing in your grasp as he looked at you with wide eyes.
“T...Thank you.” That was all he said, voice breathless as he visibly sunk before you in the chair, grip releasing on your arm and the chair. You smiled, both out of pride and amusement, as you caught his hand before he could pull it back, tongue catching a dot of seed from between his fingers.
“Good boy, Enji.”