Denki knocks on her door just as she's organizing her planner. She's got dates with appointments filled in with a dying pen, with names and prices in each box. She prefers to take her clients one day at a time. At the end of her weeks, she has her gross income, then her parents rent along with her own monthly rent and bills, and finally an expected net profit of that month's work.
She tucks away her agenda and walks over to let him in. Denki gives her another appreciative smile before stepping out of his shoes to enter.
He nods over at the painting taped on the wall. "You made that?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Like, ten years ago." Probably more. She'd painted a nebula over a failed self-portrait because she couldn't afford to throw away that sheet of watercolor paper. Her teacher praised her for her resourcefulness and economic ingenuity. It's the only piece of art Ochako has in her entire apartment.
He gives an approving nod. "I dig it."
"Really?"
"Yeah, I'm an artist myself."
"Oh, I'm not an artist. It's just something I made in school."
"Oh, wow," his eyebrows lift, "You know, I'm actually in school for graphic design."
"I meant middle school."
He shrugs. "Still pretty good."
Ochako shifts her weight to her other leg. The small talk isn't terrible, but she'd rather not have strangers in her house for longer than they need to be.
"Oh, by the way," he says, fishing his phone out of his pocket. "Bakugou told me to ask if he could come by later."
"Who?"
"You know, my friend who was in the back, screaming and shit."
She frowns. "The… crazy one?"
He swipes through his phone distractedly. "Yeah."
"Um. For what?"
He shrugs again. "Sex, probably. But first he wants to know what your body count is."
"My body count?"
Denki double taps something on his screen. "Like how many guys you've fucked before." he mutters offhandedly.
Ochako can't believe a guy desperate enough to pay for sex is asking about that. "Tell him a hundred thousand." she sneers. "Million."
He finally looks up from his phone to glance at her. "I'ma just say a few..." he mumbles, going back to typing on his phone. "Hey, you got anything to drink around here?"
She blinks. This dude's making himself oddly comfortable. "There's water."
"Could I get some?"
"Alright." she says, rising to fill a recycled boba cup in the faucet.
By the time she comes back, he's sitting on her couch, accepting the cup absently. "Thanks."
She wipes her hands on her jeans. "No sweat."
Ochako waits until he's drained the cup and sets it down on her table. "So, should I tell him you said okay?" he asks.
She gets a glimpse of their conversation when he shifts his phone.
kacchan
idk im at her place rn
Is she clean?
pretty sure
PRETTY sure or you're sure?
didnt ask for her bloodwork if thats wym
rip
bruh -_-
u tryna fuck or what?
Drop a pin
Oh wow, she can't stand either of them. "He has my number. he can just text me himself." She shakes her head dismissively and leads him down the hall, into her room. "Let's get started."
She shuts the door behind them and puts her hair up.
"Woah," Denki blushes, sitting himself down on the foot of her bed. "You don't wanna like, make out a little?"
Fuck no. She hates how wet his kisses are. Too wet and sloppy and drooly like a puppy's. "No, I like to cut straight to the chase."
"Down to business, I see." he grins, "Alright. Do your thing."
She pulls a tiny bottle of lubricant from a drawer and sinks down between his socks, then proceeds to shimmy the straps of her halter down her shoulders.
He's already hard by the time she pulls him out of his fly, hissing at her touch. She tries not to let the disgust be as apparent on her face and lathers his dick in lube. She hates being watched.
Ochako rubs her slick hands on the valley of her breasts and slides him in, pushing her cleavage together.
"Here, I'll do that," Denki sighs, "You jerk me."
She doesn't really know how to do this... from what she's seen, it's just sliding a dick between her boobs. She wants to say this, but she always goes silent during her jobs.
"Got a nice pair of titties," he gleams, weighing them in his tacky palms. She looks away when he starts rubbing his thumbs over her nipples.
"Give it a kiss," he says, thrusting himself further up until the head of his dick nudges under her chin.
She turns away and caps his tip with her hands. "You didn't pay for that." she reminds him.
"C'mon," he moans, "I'll eat you out. What do you say, huh?"
She shakes her head and continues dragging his shaft between her tits. If that noise was anything to go by, he must be close.
"Or, you know what, this is fine for now. I'll save up, okay? Then we can fuck." he babbles, "My next paycheck's got your name on it, ya hear?"
Sometimes she loses sight of what exactly she's doing with her life, then she remembers the payoff and toughs it out. Money doesn't make you happy, but it does make your life easier and substantially more comfortable. Even though she's saving up until she's set for retirement, she's still allowed to hate what she has to do in the meantime. After she takes her parents to Hawaii, she's taking herself to therapy.
Denki doesn't take long at all to come. Three hot spurts of come streak her chest, and one hits her face. He taps his leaking dick on the bud of her nipple when he's done and collapses on her bed. Ochako shoves his come off her cheek. "Excuse me? You just came on my face."
"Fuck," he says, completely spent. He looks sorry for a split second before dozing off.
"Hello?" she shakes him, "You can't sleep here. Pay up and leave. Now."
A round of impatient knocking interrupts her. Ochako curses as she rushes over to the sink and cleans herself off so she can go answer it. She dries herself with toilet paper and drags her top back on before opening the front door.
The same blonde that wanted her to lower her prices, reduce her body count, and be available for him on Denki's day stands outside.
"What took you so long?" he snaps.
Her fist clenches around the doorknob. "What are you doing here?"
"Denki said you said I could come over," he explains in an increasingly irritated tone. "Now fucking let me in."
"First of all, don't talk to me like that. Second of all, I didn't say you could come over." she says. "I said you could text me since you had my number."
He stares her down. The miscommunication is definitely Denki's fault, but he still should've asked her himself. "Well, I'm here right now, so move." he says, stepping forward. She has no choice but to backpedal and let him in.
"This place is a mess," he comments, walking himself into her living room. What is it with these guys and their terrible manners?
"Um," she clears her throat, ready to let him have a piece of her mind before he grabs her by the chin and tilts her face.
He narrows his eyes. "What's that on your jaw?"
She slaps his hand away and reaches up to wipe her jaw. "Denki's come," she grumbles. "And don't ever touch me like that again."
"Denki? That asshole's still here?"
"He fell asleep," she snaps. She's ready to call her landlord over and formally evict both of them.
Bakugou looks at her like she's fucking with him. "The fuck?" he shakes his head, storming down the hall and into her open bedroom door.
"Stop!" she calls after him, "You can't just barge in here like you own the place."
"Go take a shower," he tells her, walking over to Denki's indecent body. "And you," he snaps, "Get the hell up. This isn't some fucking hotel room. Go home."
Ochako watches in begrudging delight as Bakugou hauls Denki up and walks him out of her home. Denki pulls his pants back up, promising he's going to see her again as soon as he gets paid.
Bakugou stares down at her after he kicks Denki out. "Why are you still here?"
"This is my house." she points out, on the brink of hysteria. What on earth is happening? Did this fucking guy just walk into her house and forcibly remove some other guy?
He grabs her by the elbow, ignoring what she'd said. "Where's the bathroom?"
"Huh? O-over there. I said don't touch me!" she cries as he kicks open the door to her bathroom.
"Just bathe already," he says, reaching into his pocket.
Ochako screams into her palms and takes a few breaths to collect herself. "Bakugou, listen to me. I am not having sex with you today."
"Why not?" he snaps, "I brought the money."
"Because. I. Said. No." she snaps back.
He looks insulted. She's ready to call the police.
"Oh, fuck this," he pulls his wallet out. "Here's one, two, three, four, five, six hundred," he counts and slams the bills down on the bathroom counter.
"I said—"
"I heard you," he shouts, leaning down to look her in the eye. His words hit her roughly. "Here's six hundred fucking US dollars for you. Go get yourself something nice to wear. None of these old tattered clothes. I'll text you. I'm picking a time and day and you'd better not say no. Understand?"
She looks over at the money on her wet counter and nods. "Fine."
"Alright," he sighs, walking himself out of the bathroom and to the front door. Before he leaves, he looks at her once more. "And don't let me catch another guy in here again."